It's that awkward time between the last playoff game and the Superbowl, when the media (yes, including the lamentable sports media) has to fill up nearly every minute of airtime talking about what will be--barring Barack Obama dropping an c-dash-f-bomb during a guest spot on The Voice--the most-viewed program of the year. Sure, it's a fairly important event that the vast majority of Americans are at least tangentially interested in, but most of those people are more interested in Geico commercials and buffalo chicken dip than they are about whether David Akers is going to muff yet another kick.
As I mentioned at the beginning of the season, I wasn't particularly interested in football this year. Unlike in previous years, when I bitched about football and then after a week or two slobberingly crawl back to the league, I more or less stayed away from football this year. I did watch a few games here and there, but I couldn't work up enough interest to watching nearly four hours of commercials and useless commentary and forty-five minutes of sloppy play. I am sure a lot of it was lack of confidence in the Steelers this year (and, as it turned out, rightfully so), so as much as I hate to be a fair-weather fan I won't lie that I'd rather play four hours of Team Fortress 2 on a glum autumn Sunday afternoon than watch a game my favored team will most likely lose.
Of course, the fact that the Baltimore Ravens are in it--supposedly the mortal enemy of the Pittsburgh Steelers--should get my interest up, but I can't work myself into a lather about a pretend rivalry. I get the need for emotional competition, and I won't lie that I am much more concerned about the Steeler's success when the Ravens are on the field, but I've never understood the scorched-earth piss-on-their-pantleg rabid-mouthed hatred two teams of any set of cities have for each other. At the end of the day, who gives a shit?
As a continuation of that, of course, is that I'm not particularly interested in the Superbowl this year. Oh, don't get me wrong--I'll watch the game, and I'll watch the actual game without irony while eating pepperoni rolls and laughing at the dancing bears in the Pepsi commercial. And I quote-unquote hate the Ravens so I hope they lose, but I care even less about a West Coast team in the NFC that I get to see about once every eight years. Aside from the fact that they have a straight-up murderer* on their team, there aren't any stories to follow or heroes to root for. All I can hope for is that one very specific team beats the spread.**