You mustn’t say the trademarked words, lest you incur the wrath of the NFL OverLords, who shall sue your little blog into oblivion for daring to make a profit on the back their intellectual property.
      Well, I suppose it makes sense, but it largely…rude. I mean “The Big Game” is an American cultural phenomenon of what, forty years? Amazingly integrated into the public consciousness.
      Today is the culmination of months of games and hype and debate and generalized frenzy. The Super Bo- er… Suberb Owl. The Big Game. The Seattle Seahawks in a fight to the death against the Denver Broncos.
      No offense to my fellow Seattle-natives (okay, okay, I grew up in the ‘burbs around Seattle, but its close) – but if the Seahawks don’t pull it out this year I might actually cry a little.
      Not because I care at all about football – or, frankly, any “professional” sport where adults are paid exorbitant amounts of money to “play” a “game” – but because I grew up with a man who loved sports and who rooted for the Hawks (if only by virtue of being the “hometeam”) who did not live to see that team rock the season. This year, for some reason, I really feel my dad watching and waiting.
      Maybe he’s not really paying more attention to the mortal coil because of the Seahawks. Maybe its because the Mariners are finally going to win the World Series? Maybe it is in hope and prayer of additional grandbabies? Maybe it is because his widow is going on a cruise this spring? Maybe it is because-
      Maybe it is just my fantasy, anyway, that 2014 has really drawn his immortal gaze.
      Whatever the point, I am rooting for Seattle this year. For the guy who loves Skittles so much that he got an endorsement deal, for the really loud 12th Man, for the Legion of Boom! (which, admittedly, I do not even pretend to understand, but I’ve heard it in conjunction with the whole Seahawks propaganda machine this year).
      While something like 50% of Americans are sitting around living rooms and sports bars, chowing down on lovely (horrible) fare with millions of appetizers and finger foods and dips and chips and pizza and drinking to excess, my husband and I will be hanging out with our dice and our hummus and enjoying a leisurely, hype-free day.
      As usual.

Note: Image is “dices” by (tijmen) from SXC.hu