Tryna strike a chord and it’s probably A-Minor.
Goddamn if that isn’t the best joke I’ve heard in a long time.
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I am aware that what the rest of the world calls American football, we, as Americans, call football. What the rest of the world calls football, we call soccer. I will do the same because I’m American. Not in the fuck-you-I’m-American sense, but that this is the language I speak. Yes, the British call soccer football, but I also would never ring my solicitor or put u’s in words where they don’t beloung.

Of all the things Swedes could be critical of, the only thing about America that they consistently give me shit over is soccer and football. “You should call it hand-egg!” they say with glee, thinking no one ever thought of that before. Another chesnut is, “There’s only eighteen minutes of action in a three-hour long NFL game!” True, but you know what the key word is there? Action. My Lord, I’ll take that over watching a ninety minute soccer match any time.

To be fair, I’ll take that over watching baseball, too. And basketball. And tennis. And any other sport, because I am not a sports guy. I could not give less of a shit about sports, which makes expecting me to be a big defender of football even more ridiculous. Sports bore the living fuck out of me. However, I have seen many sports live and had a great, fun time, every time. Except one time, when I had amazing seats at a soccer match and I was equally bored to tears. I guess what I’m trying to say is, fuck soccer.

And fuck everyone who says, “Oh, they’re such pussies, wearing all that armor!” The quarterback is built like a muscular stick and there are eleven guys on the opposing team, each built like a dumptruck, hoping to slam into him so hard the ball flies out of his hands and his teeth from his head. I think we can excuse the padding, especially considering the average soccer player will fall to the ground and writhe with pain if the wind changes direction.

The only reason I developed even a passing (no pun intended) interest in football is Tom Brady. I was living outside Boston when he took over as QB for the Patriots midseason. I remember him being asked in his first press conference if he thought the Pats had any chance at all of making the playoffs and he said, “We’ll have to win every game left on the schedule for that to happen,” and then they won every game. This was so unexpected, their stadium had been scheduled for demolition before the season was over, and had to be postponed. I watched them defeat the LA Raiders in a home game, at night, in the snow, and it remains the greatest game I’ve ever seen.

Turns out, cheating and taking advantage of every possible loophole had a lot to do with their success, but why would I care about that?

Well, you’d never catch me watching any football game other than the Super Bowl, but I’ve made an effort to see that every year. Not so easy, considering the fact that I live six hours ahead of the East US Coast. After Brady left the Pats, what little interest I had in football waned, and last year, four days into a new job, I made the executive decision to not stay up until the wee hours watching TV. This year, securely employed, I figured, why not?

My interest was piqued this time thanks to the Philadelphia Eagles. Growing up in South Jersey, the Eagles should’ve been my team, but I wanted them to lose because Philadelphia fans are the fucking worst. I knew they’d riot if the Eagles lost and riot if the Eagles won, and guess what happened this year? Fun facts about Philly fans (and people in general):
– Santa made a special appearance during an Eagles game one year. Fans threw ice balls at him.
– Fans have thrown C and D batteries at opposing teams and referees.
– The Beastie Boys participated in Lollapalooza one year and MCA brought a gaggle of Tibetan monks to bless the stage at the start of the day. Attendees were given free bottles of water because it was so hot. I think you can guess the rest here.
– Also, the Beastie Boys put a basketball hoop on stage and made shots now and then during their performance. This basketball hoop was stolen by the end of the night.
– HitchBot, the hitchhiking robot that successfully navigated across several countries, did not get past an alley in Philadelphia.

Boston Red Sox fans are a close second to Philly as far as horrible people are concerned, and I was always torn about the prospects of that team. Again, these are fans who riot no matter the outcome. Ultimately, I was happy when the Sox finally won a World Series, because a major aspect of their identity – that they were cursed and could never win – was taken from them. Now they were just yet another team.

While I went into this Super Bowl hoping the Eagles would lose, that feeling was destroyed in minutes. The last Super Bowl I’d watched, a lot of people criticized it as boring, because each team’s defense was so strong. Kansas City just got humiliated by the Eagles, over and over again.

But I couldn’t tell you who I felt worse for, Kansas City, or the Hollywood celebrities who showed up to be part of the pregame and introduce the teams. It reeked of desperation, actors begging to stay relevant in a country where populism has swung so hard to the right (indeed, King Trump was even in attendance, the first sitting US president to do so). I likely feel worst for Drake, that poor Canadian. Bad enough that the crowd at the Grammys sang along to Not Like Us, this time an entire arena roared the A-Minor line.