January 31, 2008 Issue                                       

©2007 The Chestnut Hill Local

He’s retiring from Super Bowl viewing
How to improve boring Super Bowl: go right to overtime
by JIM HARRIS

Despite what the curmudgeonly Jim Harris says, there are bound to be some exciting plays this Sunday, like this one in which San Francisco cornerback Jeff Fuller is unable to stop a great one-handed catch by Atlanta receiver Stacey Bailey.

On Super Bowl Sunday, American males will gather to bathe in beer, grovel in guacamole and worship at the wide-screen altar of alleged superness. Hundreds of millions of people will be watching worldwide, as America once again proves that it is the undisputed king of extravagance, violent competition and crass commercialism.

As sexy as all that is, it would be even better if the game itself were actually exciting. In reality, football is really a very slow sport. Take away all the shots of zany, costumed fans, bouncy cheerleaders and glitzy graphics (“First-half red zone incursions by left nicklebacks with Attention Deficit Disorder: None”), and what have you got? Line up, wait, hike, wait, all fall down, wait, repeat. Once every nine times through this sequence, something actually happens: “Wow! He picked up a yard on that play, but wait, there’s a flag on the field. The officials are going into the playback teepee to watch films of the game. We’ll be back after these 12 commercials.”

I think that they should skip the first four quarters and go directly to overtime. That way, if one team is a lot better than the other (it usually is), the game will be mercifully short, leaving more time for the entertainment. Eventually, the game itself could be phased out, leaving just the coin toss: “Heads, you win!”

And phased out it should be. American football is not so much a sport as a delivery system for multiple concussions. People involved in the business of football would have us believe that it’s all just part of the job.

Consider this: what if you were exiting your cubicle at work when suddenly a guy came barreling full speed around the corner, slammed you into the copy machine, then danced around your head while other workers cheered and slapped him on the back. What if that were ”just part of the job?” Would that be a good job?

It’s time we stopped treating people like animals. And while we’re at it, let’s stop treating animals like animals. Ever notice how many Super Bowl commercials have anthropomorphized animals in them? Beer-fetching dogs, football-playing horses, dancing monkeys. Let me tell you something, folks: a dancing monkey is one step away from going berserk and being shot by police. Believe it or not, chimps don’t like wearing cowboy suits, being separated from their families or living in cages between acting gigs. How about just presenting animals as valuable creatures in their own right, or would that not be entertaining enough?

Which brings us to the real entertainment. The half-time show. A brief sampling: It’s hard to imagine 80,000 football fans doing the wave to “I Enjoy Being A Girl,” but in 1970, Broadway star Carol Channing was the featured performer. In the late ‘70s, troops of disgustingly wholesome youngsters sang and danced to themes like “Up With People” and “It’s a Small World.”

Things took a turn for the weird in ‘93 when Michael Jackson performed onstage with 3,500 local children. Not to be outweirded by brother Michael, Janet Jackson gave us the now-famous “wardrobe malfunction” in ’04, but did you know that just moments after that unsolicited peep show, a streaker ran around the field with the words “SUPER BOWEL” written on his body? He was eventually tackled by players from both teams (although he did make a first down).

This year’s headliner will be Tom Petty, who was really cool 30 years ago, and a 20-year-old rapper named “Soulja Boy” will emit sounds that only other 20-year-old rappers will understand. For the rest of us, Soulja Boy should be penalized for unnecessary roughness to our ears.

And so it is with mixed, unsalted emotions that I announce my retirement from Super Bowl viewing. This year I’ll be hosting a quiet evening of socially conscious poetry and conversation in my home. I’ll prepare some light vegan snacks, fire up some aromatherapy candles, and voilà — El Salon Jim! Ladies and gentlemen of taste are welcome. A security guard will be on duty in case we’re attacked by steroid-crazed linebackers or in case somebody’s backfield is in motion.

For those of you who might be afraid to go to work the next day without any witty observations or colorful anecdotes to share with your co-workers, don’t worry. I’ll be handing out a “Global warming fact sheet” at my party. Then when someone at your job asks, “Did you see the game?” you can just reply, “At the present rate of warming, the earth will burst into flames by 2010.” That should bring any water cooler chat to a grinding halt.

You’re probably saying “Hey, Jim, you’ve just trashed the Super Bowl, an American icon. What’s next?”

I’m thinking of trashing Disney World.

Jim Harris, of Germantown, is a musician and animal activist who is  just kidding about the above. He really loves the Super Bowl because it is a great American tradition, like fathers chasing kids around with power tools. All kidding aside, Jim is actually a very romantic fellow. For example, he fell for his wife like his heart was a mob informant, and she was the East River. You can contact him at his secret Witness Protection Program location at jimbob@jimbobsjournal.com.