Column: Circus Maximus and the Emperor of Beers -- A Super Bowl Odyssey

Dear readers,

It’s Super Bowl Sunday. The pinnacle of Americana. The day when the rest of the world looks on in bewilderment as we celebrate a sport they insist on calling "hand-egg."

But we know better. 

I’m not sure what sport Ted Lasso coaches or Roy Kent plays, but it isn’t football. Football, the real kind, is played in America.  It is where men in helmets and pads collide with the force of tectonic plates, and Roman numerals are as essential as nacho cheese.

How big is the Super Bowl, you ask?

It’s so big that we break out the Roman numerals, like we’re Caesar planning a conquest. It’s a modern-day Circus Maximus, a spectacle of athleticism, advertising, and artery-clogging snacks.

It’s a day of camaraderie, a Bacchanalian feast where we consume our body weight in nachos and wash it down with the "King of Beers" — or, as it turns out, the "Emperor of Beers" (more on that later).

I wanted to report live from the game this year, but my boss, Johnny at GIANT fm, said the budget was tighter than a pair of Spanx on a sumo wrestler.

In past years, I have dazzled all of you with my excellent memory of big plays from past Super Bowls. I might forget my granddaughters’ names, but I never forget things like when Kate Upton was featured eating a Carl’s Jr. hamburger, or the year when Charlotte McKinney introduced the “All Natural Burger.”

My favorite big play by a quarterback was when Joe Namath showed off his legs in a Hanes Beautymist pantyhose commercial.

This year, I’ve decided to throw a lifeline to you readers who aren’t sports fans. I’m here to guide you through the chaos. If you find yourself nursing a warm Dr. Pepper in the corner and left out of the sports talk, here are a few topics you can use to end that conversational lull.

Star-Spangled Banner Trivia

Did you know that the “Star Spangled Banner” wasn’t even our national anthem until 1931? It was President Herbert Hoover who officially made it the law of the land on March 3, 1931.

Did you know that our national anthem was set to the tune of an old British drinking song? That’s right. Francis Scott Key watched the British bombard Fort McHenry in 1812 and thought, “You know what this moment needs? A pub sing-along.”

And just like the Beach Boys borrowed Chuck Berry’s “Sweet Little Sixteen” for “Surfin’ USA,” he borrowed a British tavern tune for his famous lyrics.

Ever notice how someone complains no matter who is chosen to sing the national anthem? The worst rendition in history was a performance by Rosanne Barr at a Cincinnati Reds game.

She screeched like a banshee, spat on the field, and adjusted her crotch like she was auditioning for a WWE match. Rumor has it she was only chosen because Andrew Dice Clay was busy. Ed McMahon, Budweiser’s longtime pitchman, is probably still spinning in his grave.

The Emperor of Beers

Speaking of Budweiser, can we talk about how Modelo Especial is now the best-selling beer in America? That’s right, the “King of Beers” has been dethroned by a Mexican brew.

Since Mexico had emperors instead of kings, maybe we should start calling it the “Emperor of Beers.” It’s like the Roman Empire all over again, but with more lime wedges.

Taylor Swift vs. Trump

We all know President Trump is rooting for the Eagles. Why? Because Taylor Swift endorsed Harris, and there’s no way he’s joining the Swifties to cheer for Kansas City.

Hey, let’s turn it into a drinking game. Take a drink every time the TV camera shows Taylor Swift or President Trump.

Presidential Pardons and Penalties

This year, for the first time in history, we have a sitting president at the game. Will it make a difference in the outcome? Maybe.

President Biden pardoned everyone on death row and President Trump pardoned the QAnon Shaman, who stormed the Capitol in a horned helmet and face paint. So, it’s not a stretch to imagine a player getting a last-minute presidential pardon for a game-changing penalty.

Picture this: The Eagles are winning, but a penalty threatens to hand the ball to Kansas City. Suddenly, a call comes down from the presidential suite. The player is pardoned, the penalty is waved off, and the Eagles win.

The camera moves in for a close up of Taylor Swift to get her reaction.

Announcement to make at end of game

Don’t forget to call in sick tomorrow. Whether you’re recovering from a nacho-induced coma or just need time to process the fact that you spent three hours watching commercials interrupted by brief moments of football, it’s a national tradition. Consider it your civic duty.

See you next week, same Schwinn time, same Schwinn channel.

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