Yeah, so none of us know anything about football. I hardly think this is a bad thing, all told.

What's so Super about the Super Bowl?

[Note:  This rant has been recycled from the original HoF. It was written on 26 January 1998 -- Super Bowl Sunday for that year. I was at work, and OSB readers will notice that I was no more enamored with my job three years ago than I am today. But anyway, I think this is still a good rant topic, certainly one that is pertinent for this Sunday, and I thought that the rant deserved resurrection for it. The content is unchanged from the original, excepting the specifics I mentioned about my workplace, as well as some formating changes. Although I have since learned the rules of football (had to in order to play NFL2K), the underlying feeling of this rant is still the same. Enjoy.]

I am not a sports fan. To say that I destest sports would only be a slight exaggeration. I occassionally enjoy playing tennis, but those moods are rare. I used to pitch for a local baseball team, however the interest waned quickly when I was told that I should stop aiming for the opposing team. I do enjoy miniature golf, which must be a sport if "real" golf is. There's just something oddly appealing about trying to whack a ball up a tiger's ass. But I digress.

Not only do I hate to play sports, but I also hate to watch them (with the shining exception of the Olympics, which I am an ardant fan of ... but that's another rant altogether). Again, baseball I can tolerate, but the true focus of my sporty disdain is professional football. There are several reasons for this, which you are no doubt going to hear because I'm getting on a roll now.

Yes, that's correct, football fans, probably the number one reason that I hate football. If you fall into this catagory and don't fit these following generalizations, then I apologize. As an AFSM regular poster's sig read at one time, "No generalization is true, not even this one." And if you do fit in ... <shrug>

We have now entered the realtime portion of our program. You see, I am at work today, as I type this. I usually work on Sundays, so this is nothing new. For those of you who don't know about my employment, allow me to take a few moments to fill you in. I work for an answering service, located in Louisiana, where I used to believe the heart of ignorance lived. Now, I'm not so sure. Oh, I'm definately of the opinion that there is a significant percentage of stupid people in my dwelling ... but the totality of stupidity? No, not anymore.

I won't go into too much ranting on the twits that I speak to almost daily. Mainly because that's bound to be a future topic of discussion. (Though I shall indulge in a brief example of what stirling intellects these people are. *ahem*

For eight hours a day I do this. Life is happy.)

Where was I? Oh yes, I am at work today. I was not looking forward to work today. As one of these petals of wisdom informed me when there was a reception problem on their television, "Did you know the Super Bowl was on today?" Golly gee, is that why people like you are calling in? That comes as a complete surprise to me, but THANK YOU for filling in that gap. I've been puzzling it out all day. </sarcasm off>  Many of these systems that we answer for aren't particularly good. Cable outages are a daily problem, and, understandibly, these customers are aggrivated with this poor service. What I DO have trouble accepting, however, is the fact that they take it out on me.

Apparently there is something intensely confusing about the phrase "This is the answering service, I don't work for (fill in the blank), but I will get this problem reported to the technicians for you." And believe me, this explaination is even less effective when there is football on the line. Heaven forbid that anything come between Joe Hick and his football (or wrestling, but again, that is another story). I recall fondly a few weeks ago when cable was out for one of the playoff games, much in the way I recall fondly having my wisdom teeth extracted. These memories did not make me anticipate today particularly. Take a pissed-off group of cable customers, add in THE football event of the season, a cable company with a considerably unimpressive track record, and a room full of surley operators who are sick of being abused and accused of enacting a personal vendetta against the cableless, and shake vigorously. Add a thin layer of alcholic influence, serves 12.

Equipped with my "bloody, gaping hole shot into the smiley face" t-shirt which summed up my feelings for the day, I strode, fearless into the workplace. Doing a lot of complaining before leaving home, mind you, but this is a detail that can easily be glossed over. To my complete and utter surprise, I find it's dead. No cable outages, just a few reception complaints ... nothing. This is both a blessing and a curse. The blessing part should be obvious. The curse being that now, here it is, 7:45pm CST and where as this rant should be filled with colourfully annoying tidbits of my place o' employ, instead I'm left a bit empty-handed. Oh, I still have things to complain about (Super Bowl related things, really, I promise), however the day has been supremely lacking in terms of interesting stories to share. I find it ironic that by NOT annoying me, these people are annoying me. I guess I was just fated to be annoyed today.

Back to the topic of football and all its splendor. The game started, and I sat in my prime televisual viewing spot (which I savored for no other reason than because the football fans in the room couldn't sit there), marveling about the vast number of players that were required on each side to grapple with each other over an oddly-shaped, air-filled sphere. And the stands went wild as I watched many grown men screaming like women and wearing wedges of cheese on their heads. And then I decided that I was not going to waste any more brain activity interpreting the images that danced on the screen.

Obviously, I've missed something along the way. The spark that makes one become obsessed with a sport so innane. The fire that burns deep within for watching men running up and down a fenced-in square of grass and leaping upon one another, which makes a fan treat their fellow human as a sort of unattractive slime that develops underneath a gas station toilet when they can't tune in. But you know, if it keeps me from wearing oversized foam representations of dairy products on my head, I don't think I'm missing all that much.

I'd ask someone to explain the fascination of football to me, but I think that I'm just happier not knowing. I can think of nothing that telelvison could provide me with that would become such a focal point of my life, least of all a football game.

However, the ridiculously hyped event is over for yet another year. Denver fans are happy and drunk, Green Bay fans are sad and drunk. (I know who won purely because of my fellow co-workers, I'm not being that hypocritical.) Advertisers are out millions and millions of dollars in the hopes of making millions more on reptilian assassins and Pepsi-drinking geese. The media are STILL reporting on the same stuff that they'll be reporting on for the next week. I missed the the AbFab marathon airing on Comedy Central because I was outvoted for turning the channel (no, it doesn't matter that I'd seen every episode five or six times already). All for the sake of four hours of football.

But at least I'm free from football complaints for some time. Next up ... Uhm, baseball? Basketball? Some other money-hoarding, temper-fraying, stress-inducing pasttime, to be sure. Ahh, sports industry, however may I thank you?




Hear Jet Wolf bitch about more stuff.