Every year I look forward to the Super Bowl. It's one of the best days of the year filled with football, great friends, good food and bad commercials.
This year was like every year leading up to Super Bowl Sunday. For two weeks men who look like WWE wrestlers in suits dissect every little aspect of the game while men soak in as much as possible so we can regurgitate it to our friends like it is our own knowledge.
"I think the Ravens will be vulnerable to the read option on the weak side because the safeties tie their left shoes tighter than their right."
"That may be true but I don't think the 49ers will have the speed to cover the Ravens' receivers on the hitch-and-goes because their shoes don't get good traction on the turf they are playing on."
While I'm soaking in any bit of information I can find on the game to make an educated pick on who will win, my girlfriend is spending her time buying Super Bowl cups and plates and napkins that look like footballs.
The Friday before the big game is always the same. Everybody asking everybody else who they think will win.
"I'll take the 49ers 27-24 because the Ravens' defense is prone to be sucked in on the play action and they will be eating low fat sausage at their team breakfast instead of the fatty kind Baltimore will eat."
Meanwhile, girls in my office began debating on who they thought will win by who had the best looking coach. Opinions differed until a Google search was done comparing the two coaches in many images.
"Oh you are right, John IS better looking. I hope the Ravens win."
Everyone was making their pick. My girlfriend chose the Ravens. Why? I'm not sure. She mentioned something about a more experienced quarterback and them having a good defense. It could have been because she liked the purple in their uniforms or simply because I chose the 49ers.
Either way we ate too much and laughed a lot with friends until kickoff time and all of a sudden the game got serious. I'm talking to my guy friends about the pistol formation and the pros and cons of having a running quarterback. My girlfriend asked me if the bottom of the 49ers' shoes were gold.
As the Ravens raced out to a big lead my girlfriend became the wisest football fan ever and was quick to start talking trash to me and her daughter who had also picked the 49ers. And the Ravens kept scoring and she kept smiling at me. I had nothing to say except the common comeback, "I really don't care who wins." Yeah, right.
Then the lights went out and when the game resumed the 49ers made their comeback. I started to cheer for the 49ers who I honestly haven't liked since the great Joe Montana was their quarterback.
As the game got closer the cheering became more intense. One friend pretended to throw a fake flag every time he thought the refs missed a call. My girlfriend had her head in her hands with her eyes glued to the television like she had rooted for the Ravens her entire life. Or maybe she was just staring at their "cute" coach, who knows.
I was jumping up at every touchdown and groaning at every incomplete pass. Suddenly I cared who won again. My girlfriend would start to talk trash and then decide against it and go quiet.
Then the 49ers were down to their last play and a poor play call by the coach who wasn't as cute gave the cute brother a Super Bowl title and my girlfriend bragging rights. And she did brag.
But that's OK, I really didn't care who won anyway. I just wanted a close game and good time, which is what I had. Another great Super Bowl with many happy women that the cute coach was victorious.
Maybe next year I will just pick the winner based on who has the cutest coach. Or I'll just ask my girlfriend. Ugh.