The Super Bore or Yet Another Paean to MMA
Sometimes, it’s good to be a man, especially on the unofficial National Man Day–i.e., Super Bowl Sunday. But what if you are someone of the masculine gender who doesn’t give a whit about the Super Bowl?
Unfortunately, I am suffering from that particular predicament. I really don’t care if the Los Angeles Rams or the New England Patriots win the annual Gridiron Clash of the Titans, the new Battle of Atlanta, and Battle of the Pigskin Stars.
I can’t root for the Rams because the City of Los Angeles paid a galaxy-sized ransom to woo their former football teams (the Rams and the Chargers) as well as the 2028 Olympics to La-La Land. Besides, they might just be the luckiest team ever to play in the Super Bowl thanks to an utterly blown call in the NFC Championship Game. Although I am not one of those conspiracy theory nuts who believes that the moon landings were faked or that Donald Trump is Elvis Presley’s secret brother, I can’t help but wonder if someone in the NFL hierarchy bribed the referees so that the Rams could win. After all, Los Angeles is the nation’s second largest television market, and lots of Californians who would otherwise be surfing or skiing will be congregating in front of their television sets to watch the gridiron sport.
As for the Patriots–well, they’re the Patriots. Cheering for them is like cheering for the New York Yankees during the 1950s or the Dallas Cowboys in the 1970’s. They’re the team tailor-made for the fairest of fair weather football fans who probably think Tom Brady is a member of the Brady Bunch. And like the Rams, the Patriots are lucky to be playing in the Big Game, they need overtime rather than a man in a zebra-like suit to beat a game Kansas City Chiefs team in the Barbecue City.
Since I am not one of those geeky non-football fans who just watch the Super Bowl for the commercials or the halftime show, I will be watching something else on the tube. Better yet, I can sit behind my trusty personal computer and watch the reruns of a sporting extravaganza that truly excited me–last week’s MMA (mixed martial arts) heavyweight championship fight between the American Ryan Bader and the Russian Fedor Emelianenko. It was awesome watching Bader knock Emelianenko out in only 35 seconds. Had this happened 35 years ago during the height of the Cold War, it would been hailed as the greatest American triumph over the dreaded Russkies since the “Miracle on Ice” at the 1980 Winter Olympics or when Bobby Fischer checkmated Boris Spassky in the 1972 Chess Championship or even when a boy wonder pianist named Van Cliburn won the inaugural International Tchaikovsky Competition in Moscow in 1958. Still, a first round knockout–especially for the heavyweight championship of the Bellator (the company that sponsored this fight) world–is special. And it proved yet again that mixed martial arts, despite the blood, sweat, and more blood, is a great sport. Anymore, I rather watch two MMA ham-and-eggers slug it out in the ring than most NFL games because you never know if you will see a devastating knockout or at least kung fu moves Bruce Lee never did in his chopsocky classics.
Although baseball may be the National Pastime and football may be the National Entertainment, as long as there is MMA on TV and the Internet, I will always be a contented couch potato sports fan.
Joe’s Maybe Memorable Quote of the Day
Football without tackling is like pornography without sex.