Prepare yourselves, football fans. The world is about to become a very different place.
You see, Super Bowl Sunday is upon us and there’s a lot on the line, perhaps even more than in Super Bowls past.
Sure, the Atlanta Falcons winning their first ever Super Bowl last year would have been a nice story. And the Seahawks winning their first a few years ago was also good for the town and the league.
But Super Bowl LII (that’s 52 in Roman years) will be altogether different. Either the juggernaut known as the New England Patriots will win their sixth in sixteen years or the Philadelphia Eagles will win their first.
As an innocent bystander, I’m not sure which outcome will be worse… but rest assured, both will be bad. Very, very bad.
I know a ton of Eagles fans. They are as diehard as they come. They’ve been thirsting for this moment ever since their parents first dressed them in green and spoon fed them kielbasa in the crib. If they somehow manage to fend off the Pats, I’m here to tell you, we will have a whole new unbearable fan base on our hands, drunken Eagles fans with a side of violence, running rampant and looting the nation, making it a half a block before they realize they’re too out of shape to do any further damage to anything but their livers, finally wiping the tears from their eyes as they shout “Fly Eagles Fly!” Or what I like to call Purge: Eagles Super Bowl Victory.
They’ll step up the obnoxious for the rest of their lives, even more so than they already do, by telling you in vivid detail of the night they beat Tom Brady. You know, kind of like Giants fans do.
On the other hand, there are the chowder heads, the uber-entitled lot who once rooted for a franchise that was irrelevant until the afternoon Drew Bledsoe got hurt. Much to the adulation of Patriots fans everywhere, the guy who took that very next snap sent Bledsoe into Wally Pipp obscurity, setting a new standard for quarterbacks, appearing in eight Super Bowls, which is mind-blowingly impressive when you consider most players have never been to one. Trust me when I tell you there is more than one shrine fully alit and dedicated to Tom Brady on this very Sunday.
Maybe I’m just jealous. As a general rule of thumb, Buccaneers fans are so disinterested in their team, they’re barely aware a game is going on, too busy bitching about paying thirteen dollars for a Bud Light and reminded of the infrequency with which they actually score touchdowns only when a grounded pirate ship explodes fake gunpowder into the air. We’d gladly switch places with either of these two fans bases if it weren’t for the cold weather and rap sheet.
So pick your poison, folks. Either way, come Monday morning, we’ll be living in an all new America. It’s unfortunate either team has to win. Happy Super Bowl Sunday, everyone.