Okay this is it.
There’s a little over two minutes left in the game. The Patriots have the ball. If they score, they could win. My roommate’s eyes are glued to my computer screen. The Patriots line up for the snap. I look at the screen. I look at her. I look back at the screen.
But I feel nothing. There are no butterflies in my stomach. There’s no overwhelming sense of excitement and nervousness boiling up inside me. There’s absolutely nothing.
Since I’m going to school in Boston and the Patriots were playing in the Super Bowl, I thought maybe for the first time in my life I would finally feel excitement for this unofficial American holiday. Unfortunately, this was not the case.
I just don’t get the hype.
It’s not that I don’t like football. In fact, I love football. I adore football. My mom’s side of the family all went to the University of Southern California, so I grew up watching the Trojans put on their burgundy and gold jerseys and fight it out in the Colosseum.
I will always resent the University of Texas for beating USC in the 2006 Rose Bowl. Reggie Bush could have easily tackled Vince Young. I can still feel the heartbreak I felt when Pete Carroll announced he was leaving and the hatred I had — and frankly still have — for Lane Kiffin.
One of my fondest memories is squeezing my beagle as she tried to run away from me during the 2016 Rose Bowl. Every time I touched her the Trojans seemed to do well, so I thought squeezing her would bring the team good luck. Maybe it did, because USC won.
But my point is that I don’t take football lightly. That’s why I don’t understand how I don’t like professional football and especially the Super Bowl. Everything wired in me should love it, look forward to it or be excited for it. But I’m not, and I don’t think I ever will be.
What grinds my gears is people who can’t come to terms with that. The fact that I did not care in the slightest who won the game baffled many people.
I can’t tell you how many times I heard, “You’re in Boston and you don’t care who wins?” or “You’re in Boston and you don’t find Tom Brady attractive?” or “You’re in Boston and you don’t think the Patriots are the best team in the NFL?”
My favorite is when people — mainly guys — assume I don’t like football because I don’t know anything about it. I hate to pull the “I’m the cool girl who knows a lot about football” card, but I understand the game.
The Patriots defense did not prepare for the Eagles RPOs, and was oftentimes easily picked apart by Nick Foles’ offense. The same thing happened to the Patriots against the Jaguars, but unfortunately for the Patriots, the Eagles came poised, calm and ready to take the championship. They weren’t going to implode.
You would think understanding the game would make me more into it, but no. I still remain uninterested.
And then there’s the whole ad situation. I don’t understand how people spend all year cursing ads and purposefully paying money to streaming services so that they don’t have to watch them, but then when the Super Bowl comes around, everyone is excited for the advertisements that constantly interrupt the game.
I don’t even like the halftime show — OK, that’s not entirely true. I sometimes like the halftime show. I’m just bitter that there wasn’t an NSYNC reunion this year.
I finally think I’ve stumbled onto why I don’t like the Super Bowl — I’m always disappointed. I get more out of the food on Super Bowl Sunday than I do out of the actual game.
There’s all this hype around a big event that is almost never as exciting or fulfilling as it promises to be. I want a triple overtime game. I want a 46-yard, at an angle, field goal in the last 10 seconds game. I want a back and forth, non-stop, fighting-for-every-inch game. I want a USC versus Penn State in the 2016 Rose Bowl game.
Unfortunately that never happens, and when it does, it happens in favor of the team I don’t like. No matter how I come about it, I’m simply not a Super Bowl fan. I don’t get the hype.