The official position of this blog on Super Bowl LIII is that we have no rooting interest. On the one hand, rooting for the Patriots and their ludicrous pretensions of being the underdog is like rooting for a billionaire who is shocked, shocked that some people think they should pay more taxes. On the other hand, St. Louis is owned by miserable human being Silent Stan Kroenke, who, while not an out and out crook like the Browns' Jimmy Haslam or the Vikings' Ziggy Wilf, is going to have to produce some serious acrobatics with a camel and the eye of a needle in the afterlife.
Even the halftime act isn't worth rooting for. Maroon 5? Seriously?
As such, we are officially left rooting for...what? Good commercials? Decent hors oeuvres?
Until this year, at least, I had the pleasure of watching the Super Bowl every year with my father. But he passed away in December. So the mere fact of watching the game is bittersweet. Having two teams in the game whom rooting for seems like an exercise in self-violence just makes it worse.
So never mind me. I'll be over here in the corner, waiting for pitchers and catchers to report. And making hors oeuvres.