So the Los Angeles Rams won the Super Bowl. Someone should tell Los Angeles.
I have lived here more than two decades. I’ve seen this town lose its collective shit over the Lakers, Dodgers, even the Galaxy, one of L.A.’s soccer clubs.
But when I went to the grocery store on Sunday for pre-game sustenance, there wasn’t a single Rams t-shirt on a body in the store, no Rams banners, pennants or paraphernalia in the aisles, no bumper stickers on cars clogging parking lots.
Maybe it was COVID. Maybe diehards stocked up early. But the day had all the excitement of watching an apple brown. At least in the town.
In terms of a game, SB LVI had some highlights. The game was close. There were some good commercials, like the Coinbase ad, a wordless, floating barcode that bounced like a Pong video game on autoplay. It would have been a terrific ad — had it not sparked so many scanners that the site crashed. Not exactly the vote of confidence in cryptocurrency the commercial hoped to foster.
And who knew the Scientologists had enough cash for another Super Bowl ad? I thought Leah Remini put a stop to that silliness. Xenu is a baller!
But my favorite moments of all sports championships are the praises of god that immediately follow. Defensive star Aaron Donald was reduced to tears and kept calling out to the sidelines TV reporter ”God is good! God is good!”
Super Bowl MVP Cooper Kupp had a better tale. After the Rams lost the 2019 Super Bowl to the Patriots, he said as he walked off the field ”and it was revealed to me we would come back and win and I would be the MVP.”
Wow. That’s pretty specific. He mention anything about a pandemic? No? Just the game?
Such holy after-the-fact predictions after are common in sports. And I guess it’s good when any celebrity acknowledges a higher power other than the self.
But, just once, I’d like to see an athlete share his communications with god before the big game? Any predictions? Any plans for a dink field goal?
Or better yet, just tweak a reliable favorite.
“God is good! And clearly he thinks the Bengals and their fans are a bunch of sinners who deserve to have their prayers crushed. Praise Jesus for believing in the nickel defense!”
In honor of the holiest of all Sundays, a FactSlap Super Bowl edition:
The first Super Bowl game was played on January 15, 1967, as a playoff between the AFL and NFL champions. The game was called the “World Championship of Professional Football.”
No network footage exists of Super Bowl I. Apparently it was taped over for a soap opera.
At every Super Bowl, two Lombardi trophies are present in the unfortunate event that one is accidentally destroyed in the celebrations.
Super Bowl day is the second-largest U.S. food consumption day, following Thanksgiving.
Mike Ditka and Tom Flores are the only two men to win a Super Bowl both as a player and a coach.
Each Super Bowl trophy is handcrafted by Tiffany & Co. master artisans at their workshop in Parsippany, New Jersey, and is valued at $12,500.
The lowest amount of points scored in a Super Bowl is 3, scored by the Dolphins in Super Bowl VI.
Each Super Bowl trophy takes approximately four months and 72 man-hours to create.
The name ‘Super Bowl’ came from AFL founder and Kansas City Chiefs owner Lamar Hunt. He had jokingly referred to the proposed interleague championship as the “Super Bowl” after seeing his daughter playing with a toy called a Super Ball. The ball is now on display at the Pro Football Hall of Fame in Canton, Ohio.
The original Super Bowl XXXVI logo was re-designed following the September 11, 2001 attacks.
The Minnesota Vikings have played in four Super Bowls, but has never led a Super Bowl for even a single second.
Chuck Howley, the MVP winner from the 1971 Super Bowl, is the only player from a losing team to be named MVP.
The last true day game (one which ended before local sunset) was Super Bowl XI in January 1977.
In 1978, both Randy White and Harvey Martin were co-winners of the MPV award.
The only player to win a Super Bowl ring and an Olympic gold medal was Bob Hayes. He won the 100m at the 1964 Olympic Games, and was part of the winning Dallas Cowboys team of 1972.
The record crowd at a Super Bowl game was 103,985 in 1980 at the Rose Bowl stadium.
In what is now known as the Philly Special, during the 2018 Super Bowl Philadelphia Eagles quarterback Nick Foles caught a touchdown pass, and became first player in Super Bowl history to both throw and catch a touchdown.
Hi, my name is Scott Bowles, and I am a Dallas Cowboys fan.
If you’re even a casual observer of the NFL, you know this is no easy admission. I’m from Detroit. An out-of-towner pulling for the Cowboys is like a non-resident pulling for the Boston Celtics (which I do) or the New York Yankees (which I do not).
The Celtics are easy to explain; that’s an inheritance from Dad. The Cowboys, though, are harder to explain. Dad hated the Cowboys. Maybe it was teen rebellion, maybe it was canny teen marketing, maybe it was the Roger Staubach-signed pennant Dad got me when I was in the hospital contracting diabetes. Whatever the reason, the bond was sealed.
I know this union is morally wrong. Sometimes, I feel like Melania Trump. No matter how much cult fans chant I’m doing the right thing in the marriage, sometimes I’ve got to admit I’m with a loathsome creep.
Or was. I’m officially switching allegiances this season. This year I’m rooting for the Baltimore Ravens to win the Super Bowl. And you should, too.
I know I know. It’s heresy to switch bandwagons, especially mid-season. But hear me out. Dallas has always been known as “America’s Team,” thanks to the organization’s slick and ubiquitous self-promotion. But I suggest the Ravens best represent this country, both in toughness and underdog-ness.
Consider:
Miracle turnaround. No one thought the Ravens a serious contender in 2019 — particularly when the hapless Cleveland Browns shelled them early in the year. But a turnaround came primarily thanks to Lamar Jackson, a 22-year-old quarterback who has set the team on fire. Half quarterback, half running back, Jackson was considered a bust of a draft pick last year. This year, he’s led the Ravens to a record of 10-2, the best in the NFL. He’s also the first quarterback in history to pass for more than 250 yards and run for 120 in one game.
Dethroned a king. Last month, the Ravens played the vaunted New England Patriots, home to Hall of Fame quarterback Tom Brady and head coach Bill Belichick. The Patriots, who many consider Super Bowl favorites, were undefeated at the time and expected to roll over the young Ravens. The Ravens shellacked them 37-20.
The political intrigue. This is reason enough to pull for the Ravens. Traditionally, the victorious Super Bowl team gets a trip to the White House and a visit with the president. Last year, the Patriots and owner Robert Kraft happily took up the invitation. (Side note: Kraft, 78, was later arrested for asking a young masseuse to give him a happy ending. Trump is a true ally of pederasts; he doesn’t drain the swamp so much as dunk people in it.)
You remember Trump and “Charm City,” as the state has nicknamed it. Baltimore was targeted by Trump in July, when the president lashed out at Rep. Elijah Cummings, a Democrat whose district included parts of Baltimore city and Baltimore County.
Cummings’ “district is a disgusting, rat and rodent infested mess,” Trump said of the city and the Representative. “If he spent more time in Baltimore, maybe he could help clean up this very dangerous & filthy place.”
Cummings later died, but not the city’s memory of him. When Melania Trump — whose single platform as First Lady is an anti-bullying campaign — showed up in Baltimore for a photo op, the irony was not lost on residents. They swamped the appearance, delayed it for minutes with protest chants and loudly chatted among themselves during Melania’s speech. Charming? Not at all. Of course, neither is taking shots at the dead and dying (insert McCain citation here). Be best!
What theater that would make! Will he invite the team? Will the team accept? How long before Trump mistakes the team for the help?
Whether it was Trump’s diss, Cummings’ death or simply fatigue from marginalization, the Ravens have been a team possessed. Two weeks ago, when the Ravens were making a rare appearance on national television (Monday Night Football), a commentator made a brilliant observation as Baltimore dismantled the glitzy Los Angeles Rams, who hosted the game with stars in the stands and sporting flashy yellow uniforms. As the Ravens mashed the Los Angeles’ uniforms from lemon to dirt-stained coffee brown, the analyst noted “This is The Wire going up against Dancing with the Stars,” a reference to the gritty Baltimore-set crime drama considered one of the greatest shows of all-time. “And the Ravens don’t feel like dancing.”
No, the Ravens aren’t here to dance. They’re here to follow the wisdom of Omar Little, the anti-hero of The Wire: to walk with some swagger; whistle The Farmer in the Dell; and send dope boys scrambling.
