Super Bowl XLVII
It’s the morning after the night before. The Super Bowl was an outstanding football game. There were two teams of superb athletes at their best, trained to run and block and throw and catch so that we oohed and aahed at their expertise.
There was the drama of the two brothers, coaches of these opposing teams, and their parents watching in the stands. There was even the mystery of what happened when half the lights in the stadium went black. Who, how, why? What could be better!
Some music would be nice. How about a beautiful woman with a lovely figure and long gorgeous hair, some backup singers and dancers and a good band? What would be “nice” turned out to be vulgar, ugly and excessive in every sense of the word.
There was enough electricity used to light up a small country for a year; the noise produced would reach the Man in the Moon and give him a headache; the feeling of frenzied grasping for more outrageous and more outlandish and more shocking was evident in both entertainers and audience.
The final straw for the camel’s back was the deluge of confetti at the end of the game. How many tons of paper were cut up, bagged up, hauled up and opened up to drift down to cover every surface? After the game, how long did it take to rake/sweep/vacuum up the paper, bag it up, truck it up and dump it out at some landfill?
Somehow the excess displayed made us think of the Roman “games” in the Coliseum so many years ago. Where are we headed? What is next for us? Animal sacrifices? Human sacrifices? Yes, it sounds ridiculous. But sometimes, the Morning After the Night Before, we need to step back and take a hard look at where we’re going, in what direction.
Richard and Sally Mann