When I got home from the Santa Barbara Film Festival this afternoon, the game was in the third quarter. I said to my husband, “They have quarters in football? Like New Orleans has quarters?”
He rolled his eyes and tried to explain.
“I don’t think it’s fair that we’re not having a Super Bowl party,” I said. “Everybody’s probably eating Super Bowl food.”
“Knock yourself out,” he said thoughtfully.
I went out and bought some guacamole and chips – and stuffed myself. If this is what watching football is all about, I’m so in.
Next, I tried to concentrate on the game. The Saints were ahead but it was close. Suddenly, a penalty.
“Unnecessary roughness,” I mused. “Is there such a thing as necessary roughness?”
“No, but there’s flagrant roughness,” said Michael, as if that would clear things up.
I decided to focus on the players. Peyton Manning did something bad, according to the announcers, but he wasn’t charged with an error the way he would have been in baseball. And speaking of the announcers, they were boring, as if they were calling a golf tournament. Shouldn’t they have sounded more excited, especially after the Saints won?
I really enjoyed the part when the Saints quarterback, Drew Brees (my new favorite name, by the way) held his little boy on the field after the game. Why isn’t Brees a baseball player? A Yankee, to be specific? I bet he could play left field.
The other thing I wondered was why E Trade got rid of the original baby. Did you see the commercials? The old kid was much cuter than the new kid. I guess the old kid grew up, but am I wrong on the cuteness scale?
Anyhow, congratulations to Saints fans and the people of New Orleans. I don’t need to hear “Who dat” ever again, but I’m glad I watched at least a little of the game. Sort of.