For me the best part of Super Bowl week(s) is not the game or the commercials, but the insesent coverage of every minutia of detail about these two teams. No stone is left uncovered as everybody from Playboy to People to Packaging Digest covers the biggest sporting event all year.
Since, I can't add much to what has already been said about these two teams I won't try to. Instead, I will cover the people who are covering the Super Bowl. After all, who wants to read another column about how the Bus is from Detroit?
- Jacksonville, fresh off their own Super Bowl emberrasement, rips into Detroit as a host city.
"Past Super Bowl experience: 1982, at the Pontiac Silverdome. That year, a bitter cold spell and ice storm dropped temperatures to 12 degrees on game day with a wind chill of minus 27. Officials say they will be ready with plenty of snow-removal equipment in the event of a storm. Attractions around Ford Field will include a snow slide, dog sleds and marshmallow-roasting stations."
This coming from a city which saw below freezing temperatures last Super Bowl week.
- Speaking of Detroit, it appears the Motor City is pulling for the Steel City.
"Pittsburgh is a blue-collar town. Detroit is a blue collar-town. Pittsburgh is a union town. Detroit is a union town. Pittsburgh makes steel. Detroit makes cars that are made of steel."
Detroiters have two legs. Pittsburghians have two legs. Detroiters have eight fingers. Pittsburghians have eight fingers. They're made for each other.
- The Pittsburgh Post Gazette sent a reporter to Seattle to "research" the opposition. Apparently, Seahawks fans are not as dedicated as Steelers nation.
"The Puyallup slides across the sun-splashed water, bearing west toward Bainbridge Island with the snow-capped Olympic Mountains in the background framing a postcard panorama, and there's only one well-worn Seahawks piece of clothing aboard the whole ferry. Welcome to the Emerald City, where for too many of a franchise's 30 years the locals paid no attention to that team behind the curtain."
- The Seattle Times, no doubt aware of its city rep as a bandwagon town, looks to shed that image . . . by running an article on how many people have bought Seahawks gear for the first time.
"Don and Monette Roberts, of the Tri-Cities area, have spent somewhere north of $600 on Seahawks paraphernalia in the past month. Don Roberts, 47, sporting a Hawaiian Seahawks shirt outside Qwest Field, chuckled when asked where the money went. For starters? A Seahawks cheerleading outfit and yoga pants for their 3-year-old daughter, a leather jacket for himself, sweat suits for their three boys, apparel and jewelry for his wife and a couple of large car magnets."
Some guy that bought a couple hundred dollars worth of merchandise since the Seahawks locked up homefield advantage in the NFC. No, that doesn't sound like a bandwagon fan to me. (Go Seahawks!)
3 comments:
In regards to that last paragraph (which had me laughing pretty hard for some reason), I submit to you this clip from a Seattle blogger's site (Defective Yeti):
Incredibly...[t]he Seattle Seahawks were leading the Mumble* Panthers 27-7 in the fourth quarter of the NFC Championship. (* I'm embarrassed to admit I don't even know where the Panthers hail from.)
Without turning off the TV I left the room for a few minutes. When I returned, The Queen was stationed in front of the television, gawping in amazement. "The Seahawks are going to the Superbowl!" she shouted with what sounded suspiciously like real enthusiasm. My god, I though, they've already got my wife!
Anyhow, it appears that Seattle has abruptly become A Town That Gives A Rats Ass About Football, and everyone is now scrambling to prove that they were fans waaaaay before last weekend...
This is a great post, bro... Although I ain't signin' up to see one article in Jacksonville. Keep up the good work.
thanks guys, my apologies on linking to sign up article. I've signed up for so many different newspapers that I often forget which require passwords and which don't. I'll try to include passwords in the future.
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