Georgetown University’s Newspaper of Record since 1920

The Hoya

Georgetown University’s Newspaper of Record since 1920

The Hoya

Georgetown University’s Newspaper of Record since 1920

The Hoya

Super Bowl XXXIV: A Titanic Waste

Super Bowl XXXIV: A Titanic Waste

By Tim Sullivan Hoya Staff Writer

EVERY YEAR IN LATE JANUARY, I GET pretty wrapped up in the hype that is The Big Game.

It’s a special time of the year; people order food by the foot. I do my best to catch SportsCenter for Chris Berman’s latest witticisms and attempt to sort through the mounds of expert analysis that abounds.

Not this year.

The Super Bowl will simply have to make do without me; though I’m sure it will march on, leaving millions of Americans asking themselves Monday morning where their Sunday night went.

Not me. On Sunday I’ll find something better to do than watch the Titans and the Rams tousle.

What went wrong? Did a semester in Academia turn me into the cynic I vowed I would never become? Has schoolwork overtaken my life to the point where I can’t take a four-hour break to watch what will certainly go down in the annals of sport as the greatest game ever played by mortal men?

Hardly. I saw this coming months ago. Professional football this year was an extended 18-week joke. Retirements and injuries created a diluted product and left us in this horrible predicament, stuck with what, in any other year, would have probably been two mediocre teams and a bumper crop of potato skins. Aside from the fact that the NFL resembled the World League of American Football (remember the New York/New Jersey Knights?) more closely this year than ever before, there are a host of other reasons why I won’t be on the couch this Sunday pulling for my favorite team, Bud Light.

The Rams against the Titans. Surely this game is destined to be remembered as one of the greatest rivalries the game has ever seen. Raiders-Chiefs. Cowboys-49ers. Rams-Titans?

Five years ago, neither of these teams even existed. Don’t the Rams play in Los Angeles?

The Tennessee Titans? I thought Tennessee called its football team the Volunteers. Can someone please explain to me how when there is no team in the second largest market in the country, L.A., someone thought there ought to be one in Nashville?

How can I be expected to watch a game that sounds like it should be being played in the Arena League? Speaking of the Arena League, that brings me to another beef I have with Super Bowl XXXIV. (On a side note, when are they going to stop writing the Roman numerals on the stupid logo? Someday it’s going to make people who watched Super Bowl I feel really old.) Kurt Warner will be calling the shots Sunday for the Rams. In a former life, meaning a couple of years ago, the NFL’s Most Valuable Player suited up for the Iowa Barnstormers of the Arena League.

The Iowa Barnstormers.

Granted, he had a phenomenal year. And I know it’s become almost an American tradition to worship guys that go from zero to hero, but for the Super Bowl, can we please get someone who’s never been checked into the boards while scrambling around the backfield?

Another reason why the Super Bowl disgusts me this year is its location. Every year, the league puts the game in a warm-weather locale to make sure that the quality of play won’t be affected by the elements. This year, its Atlanta’s Georgia Dome, replete with its lime green artificial turf. If the game has to be played out of its natural element, snow and ice, does it have to be played indoors? What, like there’s going to be an ice storm in Atlanta on Sunday? Somewhere, some wiseguy who’s up on his weather forecasts is smirking with the knowledge that, in fact, snow and ice may be in the cards for Georgia on Sunday.

Shut up. That’s beside the point; the Super Bowl shouldn’t be played on turf, dammit.

With the on-the-field product so bad, the commercials and half-time show had better be really entertaining. Nah-with our luck this year, there will probably just be commercials featuring Bea Arthur hocking prescription drugs and the Bud Bowl will end in a scoreless tie.

I had hoped the half-time show would be pretty good until I heard Madonna was doing a cover of “American Pie.” I’m not making that last part up, though I really wish I was. In honor of one of the most famous residents of the Titan’s adopted home, I may just have to shoot at the damn TV, a la the King himself.

As for the game, it’ll be a pretty tight one. Whichever team can do a better job of “scoring” will emerge the victor, bringing to an end the most uninteresting season of professional sports since the introduction of the shot clock.

Commissioner Paul Tagliabue, confronted with the lowest ratings in Super Bowl history, will promptly announce that only the Giants, 49ers, Cowboys, Packers, Broncos, Steelers and Dolphins will ever be allowed to compete for the Lombardi Trophy again. Americans from coast to coast will unite in one gigantic, apathetic shrug. Lack of interest will plague the NFL until next year, when Super Bowl XXXV will resurrect debate on the quality of play as well as just exactly how funny that Taco Bell dog is.

So let me know how it ends. I’ll probably be taking a nap, so knock loud. Unless someone gets a keg for the game, at which point I will be busy all day painting my face silver and blue.

Go Titans! Or Rams.

Or whoever.

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