Super Bowl XLIX (all I took from three years of studying Latin in high school was how to call someone an annoying boy – puer molestus in case you’re wondering — and how to decipher Roman numerals. Yay for the Indiana public school system!) honestly turned out just about as well as I could’ve expected. Meaning, much like the season as a whole, I went in with low expectations, then shit got surprisingly exciting right up until all my hopes and dreams were immediately DASHED by one single call.
Though, at least this time, no one could blame the refs. Or deflated footballs. And let’s be real, the Super Bowl XLIX pigskins (if only that “I” were an “A” and we could all call it Super Bowl Ex-Lax) were probably the most closely scrutinized set of balls since Lance Armstrong’s.
Instead, all of the blame has seemingly fallen upon Pete Carroll’s play-calling. Because people like having someone/thing to blame. Always. See, the Seahawks were 1 yard away from New England’s end zone on 2nd down and, instead of handing the ball to Marshawn “I’m Only Here So I Don’t Get Fined” Lynch to run in, he had Russell Wilson toss a slant pass that, because Bill Belichick sold his soul (and morals) to Satan fifteen years ago, was promptly intercepted by Malcolm Butler.
END OF GAME. RIGHT THERE. ONE FREAKING PLAY.
Because football, like life, can be a hard-fought battle swiftly and astoundingly obliterated by… okay, honestly, it was not THAT terrible of a decision given Russell Wilson’s record in the red zone, I AM JUST SAYING.
Also, I’ve apparently gotten way ahead of myself.
Back to the beginning.
To be honest, the game AND the commercials started off pretty boring. (Though, in the spirit of full disclosure, I did find the Kim Kardashian T-Mobile one pretty amusing.) It wasn’t until the Seahawks intercepted Tom Brady with only a minute and some change left in the first quarter that shit started to get real. The Bradys — I mean the Patriots — were still the first to put points on the board, however, thanks to a touchdown pass to Brandon LaFell. The Seahawks countered with their own touchdown care of Marshawn Lynch minutes later, quickly followed up by Patriots’ tight end, Rob Gronkowski catching his own touchdown. Then, with only thirty seconds left in the half, the Seahawks managed to march down the field and tie the game going into the half.
YAY WE FINALLY HAD A GAME.
By this point, I was well on my way to drunkeness so everything from here on out is fairly fuzzy. (Aside from the bitter disappointment that is.)
I hazily remember the halftime show. Translation: I remember Katy Perry transforming into the More You Know star. I don’t remember if that was before or after the dancing sharks. I do remember flipping out over Missy Elliot and explaining to my friend’s father-in-law just how important she was to a generation of 90s kids and suddenly feeling REALLY damn old.
And then the game resumed, hurray!
Or well, not hurray because, as we’ve already established, the Patriots did not lose. THEY ALMOST DID. In some other universe out there, some wonderful alternate dimension where good things happen to good people, the New England Patriots did not win their first Super Bowl in a decade.
Alas, that is not this universe and, after two hilarious weeks of Deflategate BS and Chris Evans and Chris Pratt making brotastic bets with one another, the New England Patriots are winners of Super Bowl Ex-Lax.
But at least, somewhere out there, Captain America (and a lot of kids at Seattle Children’s and Christopher’s Haven) are happy. And that’s really not so bad at all.