Soup or Bowl?

 I've never made it a secret of my total disdain for football. (I used to hate it, but there's only so much of it I can spare anymore, so I've downgraded it) This could apply to my feelings about sports in general, but there are some I can actually tolerate and a select few I have found myself enjoying. 

But not football. I'll avoid it as if that is a sport all its own. I attended a live game back when I was in my early teens with my folks who had won a contest through our local Dodge dealership. (I've chronicled this tale before in a little post I call: DOWN MEXICO WAY) It never did much for me, not like the excitement of an indoor basketball game. 

I will admit to have some good times with my circle of Pollardville friends on various Sundays, though those were only more occasions to party hardy, an extension of our weekends when that were already in overtime play. My entertainment was watching my pals and their over-the-top antics. What a bunch of loons.

Over the years, I had relationships with women who shared my scorn for America's Sport and discovered the joys of an empty world while everyone and their mothers were watching the Really Big Game, that is the Super Bowl. It's been said that it's great day to go to Costco, though I'd prefer to explore other avenues as I have in the past.

In 1995, the Bowl fell on my birthday and the San Francisco 49ers were playing, hoping for their 5th victory (I Googled it). My wife and I thought it would be the perfect day to visit The City itself and, saints be praised, we called it. San Francisco was a veritable ghost town. Since it was my day, I chose to visit the Museum of Modern Art which featured the very first display of authentic Star Wars memorabilia from Lucasfilm. This is before the franchise still meant something before the Special Editions, pre-A New Hope designation and Greedo shooting first. The museum's presentation was indeed fantastic which even included non-stop showings of classic sci-fi films in a small theater. We sat and caught The Day The Earth Stood Still, really something special even on that smallish screen. After that we had dinner at the iconic SF restaurant called The Stinking Rose with its garlic-centric fare. All in all, a near-perfect day until...

The game ended just as we left the restaurant. The Niners had won and the streets began to fill with The City by the Bay's great unwashed, all celebrating their team's triumph over their adversaries. Our dilemma was dire. How the hell are going to get out of town in this chaos? We made our way back to my car, dodging crazed fans as if we were on a obstacle course in a minefield. Basically. were problem free until I had to get into traffic. So I merely rolled down the window and yelled, "Yeah! Go Niners! Wooo!" If you can't beat 'em with a tire iron, join 'em. My lifeless cheers were effective enough for joyful fans full of love and respect erroneously recognized me as one of their own, allowing this fraud to join their their parade and make a fast getaway away from their celebration and toward home, sweet home. Thank God the 49ers won that day. I'd still be there, lost somewhere in the Haight and asking an ancient Deadhead for directions to the nearest freeway on-ramp. Best Super Bowl Day ever.

As for what I am going to do this year, it's hard to say. I only know for certain what I'm NOT going to do. Some things will never change. Ever. 

So I'll take the soup.