Superbowl Monday!

If you know me, you might be aware that I like the football.  That's American football, the game that took rugby, applied order and copious amounts of body armor, and then mixed in commercials.  I like it played by college kids the most, especially kids at non-scholarship schools like U.C. Davis.  The school calls them "student-athletes" to remind the community of its academic priority.  I like that even more than I like the football.

During my three long years of law school, I counted down the days until Aggie home games and rejoiced from the cold metal bleachers on those soggy fogged-in autumn Saturdays.  The Ags have since built their team a nicer stadium in their recent quest for status in a new and more competitive conference.  I donated money to the stadium, but I gave more money to my law school.  Truth be told, I preferred the Aggie's position in its former, smaller division but I get it: competing in Division I sports will bring more funds to the school.  It's an understandable evolution, however distasteful it may be to someone like me who just likes the game and not necessarily the pomp.

Anyhoo, today was the Superbowl.  'Superbowl Monday!' was my first thought on waking to the persistent summer gloom squatting on the restless bay.  My second thought?  I'm going to need Superbowl snacks.

By kick-off, I had prepared snack plates worthy of my sister's house (she is my snack mentor) and organized my day's work to surround me on the couch.  I opened the windows, turned up the volume and head-shook and hollered over the Steelers' failure to wake up for the championship game.  At certain points, I peered over the fence, convinced that the shriek of seagulls over collapsing waves and decomposing seaweed was the cry of my neighbors celebrating Superbowl Monday with me.  But, in truth, my neighbors couldn't give a shit, not about the game nor the funny Doritos commercial.  It might have been the first Superbowl that I've ever watched alone.  I didn't enjoy it any less.