North Carolina is my stomping ground.  By all accounts, if there was ever a year when I should be excited about a Super Bowl it would be this one, when the Panthers (yes, I actually know the team name) are playing.

Except not really.

Around these parts we’ve been regaled by several weeks of “Panther Pride” capped off by a spirit day at the kids’ school featuring jerseys, face paint, colored hair, and doin’ the Dab.  (If, like me, you’re one of those seriously not invested in this phenomena, you can read the wiki explanation of the Dab here.)  I’m surrounded by people debating who’s the stronger quarterback, Peyton Manning or Cam Newton, as well as evaluating their skills.  Offense, counteracting another team’s defense, and general sportsmanlike behavior are all hotly contested issues.

But at the risk of inciting the wrath of sports fans everywhere, I simply cannot get fired up about any of it.

Don’t be deceived into thinking this might be a time-of-life thing.  Granted, I’m not at the top of my game right now and there ARE a lot of things eliciting an “eh” response from me, but my lukewarm attitude about football (even the Super Bowl) is nothing new.

I don’t even really fall into the “I watch for the commercials” crowd.  This year I’m enjoying the unique experience of watching the first half of the game with my kids, a situation in which the opportunities for awkwardness abound.  In the first twenty minutes alone we’ve had two inappropriately violent movies advertised (although another Jason Bourne movie?  Awesome!) and one commercial explicitly targeting those afflicted with constipation.  That one was a real winner with the under-12 crowd in my house.

I put all this out there in an attempt to explain why I have absolutely no problem writing this before the game ends.  The Panthers win, the Panthers lose…short of an earthquake hitting during the game I can’t think of a single way tonight’s actual events would influence this post. (Boy, aren’t I going to feel like a heel if there’s some kind of natural disaster now.)

But…in honor of all those coming down from heightened Super Bowl fever:

Super Bowl Hangover (aka the morning after)
quiet descends at last –
no more yelling at the TV,
reaching toward the screen
to throttle coaches or players, fans or referees.
cheers ring in the ether,
cries of NO! and YES! echo in our heads
as we face a new day,
one without wings or chili
or chips and dip at hand.
water cooler talk of how and why and
What Went Wrong…
only one year to go
before we fall into another
Super Bowl Sunday.