It’s that time again, the sporting event of the year, the Superbowl!
Now some will (and have) informed me that the Superbowl isn’t important to anyone outside of America and that I am in fact not an American. They may also point out the whole event is just a massive marketing event centred around the half time show and the famous TV ads that run. But I don’t look at it like that.
If there is one thing America does much better than Britain it’s being proud of what it is. There is a level of glitz, pride, pazazz and occasion around the Superbowl that is seen throughout American culture. They know what they like and they’ll take everything way over the top yet they don’t seem like a massive joke when doing so. If you tried this in Britain, stuffy old Blighty, it would just seem false, ridiculous. You couldn’t have Glee set in Britain (I couldn’t remember it earlier, but my friend Jamie reminded me about Britannia High which proves the point), you simply wouldn’t be able to believe it and thats if you got anyone to act it.
We’re so concerned with not appearing stupid, not showing that we’re excited about something or our potential that instead all we do is wheel out those who are and laugh at them on talent shows. From the ranks of these jokes we take the cutest, the sweetest, the prettiest, the funniest and remind them that there can only be one of them, the rest will ultimately mean nothing to us, take your contract with Simon Cowell and come back in 12 months with your album. But I digress.
I envy the way America in its culture is able to enjoy itself, to not take itself too seriously (I could compare The Daily Show to 10 o’clock live here but I won’t) to enjoy the moment. So I’m off to our American buddy’s house today to engage in our yearly ritual; devilled eggs, crap American beer, chilli, nachos, burgers, beer pong*, oh and of course the Superbowl. I’ll be cheering on the Pittsburgh Steelers, because I like their colors.
*last year we ran out of beer and played with tequila instead, I missed the Superbowl.
