Super Bowl is this Sunday and it’s a big freaking deal.
This year it’s being played at Levi’s Stadium, right here in the Bay Area, so Americans in our near vicinity are even more excitable than usual. In total, it’s expected that more than 120million people will tune in, just to catch a glimpse of Janet Jackson’s nipple.
But what is the Super Bowl, and why is the biggest prize in American Football named after a serving dish? Surely you want a trophy to have gravitas, not gravy…
If, like most non-Americans, you haven’t got a bloody clue what it’s all about, here’s all you’ll ever need to know.
Over here, it’s just known as Football – but no self-respecting Brit can call it that. The game is like rugby, with fewer welsh accents and better trash talk.
This is where fans get to the stadium early, and sit in a dusty car park drinking beer. Which is what the homeless do every day. Except on matchdays people pay $100 for the privilege.
To win the game, you have to score a touchdown. Except, you don’t actually have to touch down to score a touchdown. Obviously.
When the team’s playing badly and the coach has had enough, he can call a timeout. The team has to sit on the naughty step for up to 2 minutes, and think about what they’ve done wrong. Afterwards, they say sorry, he gives them a kiss and a cuddle, and sends them back on the field.
I don’t think anyone actually knows how many players make up a team. There’s hundreds of them; an army of men wearing shoulder pads that Alexis Colby would be proud of. And they fall into one of two camps:
1. The fat ones, who congregrate in the middle of the field, and spend the whole game sumo wrestling.
2. The skinny ones, who run around, jump about, make whooping sounds and do other macho things like bash their helmets together. This may or may not be a euphemism.
They’re the ones dressed as Foot Locker employees, who regularly bust out the moves to YMCA.
The good looking one.
The only human beings who can still cartwheel in their thirties. Cheerleaders are there to distract you from the boredom of the main event. And to distract the players from their wives.
In the UK, halftime at a football match is the pinnacle of a man’s productivity. In just 15 minutes, he can squeeze in a pee, a pint and a pie, and be back in his seat for the second half. At the Super Bowl, halftime is the event. This year it’s Chris Martin’s turn to flash his vegan parts.
At the end of the game, someone usually pours a bucket over the winning coach. They do this so the fans know who won – the game goes on for 3 hours, so by this point they’re either asleep or too drunk to remember their own name.
Nothing says Bowl-winner quite like some hideous bling. Every year they make a custom-designed ring for the winners, which looks like it came straight out of Wembley market.
Notice they all say “World Champions” on them?
I don’t know about you, but I’ve always thought an important part of being a world champion is having to actually compete against the world.
But yet the Super Bowl is contested by American teams, playing American Football, in America.
So who’s going to win it this year?
My money’s on America.