John Nieman
Regular visitors to this space can attest that, over the years, my relationship with American football has been let’s say changing, maybe even evolving.
But I have a long and rich history with the Super Bowl. During the 70s and 80s I hosted a rather large and garish Super Bowl party each year. One year, local television even came out to cover it. I had absolutely no money at the time and shanghaied friends to co-host it with me.
The first date I had with Martha was to pick her up and bring her to one of my Super Bowl parties. By the time the game started, she was ready to go home and so I took her home at halftime, because halftime was when nothing really was happening in the game. It was a foreshadowing about how wonderful my life would become once I was able to win Martha as my life partner. She endured the parties for a couple of years and then we were able to spend Super Bowl Sundays sharing a recliner and reminiscing about those old days.
I am old enough to remember the first Super Bowl. Although there were only four television channels at that time- ABC, CBS, NBC, and public television—it was being shown on two of the channels.
Even though my father had played college football before he went to help win World War II, he was, like many great athletes, not one to watch sports. And so took us all out to dinner during the first Super Bowl. I snuck out to the lobby of the restaurant where they had a television going to keep up with the score. I can assure you it wasn’t a big deal back then.
As I have mentioned in this spot many times, Dad was the greatest man I ever knew. The only reason I know he played college football or served as a battalion commander in the Marines during World War II is that my grandfather showed me the magazines and documents. Dad really wasn’t that concerned with following sports except keeping up with the travails of my sister and brother and me. He was far too busy building a company and caring for his family to be worried about such things.
He passed several years ago, but I am sure that had I gone to him and told him that I was concerned and angry about the artist performing at halftime of the Super Bowl, he would have looked at me with a combination of surprise and regret. Surprise that anyone could get worked up about such a trivial matter and regret that he had reared a son who would do so.
And yet the president of the United States—the president of the United States—during a time when American citizens are being gunned down in the streets by federal “law enforcement officers,” takes the time to express his outrage.
Which causes me to worry about what kind of chaos can be visited upon this summer’s World Cup here in North America. The president’s need to deflect the nation’s attention away from the many disasters caused by his Administration seems to override any real desire to govern this great nation. And so I am worried.
Sport is for me, like most people I suspect, supposed to be a safe haven from the real complexities of our existence.
I can only hope that the national tragedy that is the many moods and actions of our government can be rectified in some way before June.
Due to the postponements and certain work commitments of mine, I missed The Clash at Bowman Gray Stadium. From the reports I read it was something to see to really understand. As I write this I am preparing to watch the Daytona 500.
I’m going with friends to Darlington and so I look forward to this season. I am hopeful that it will be free of presidential interference. For good or for bad, I don’t think it’s a sport wherein he needs to cause chaos.
As I have mentioned here before and at the behest of friends and loved ones, I have begun a regimen of GLP-1 injections. In my case, I am using Zepbound. So far, I am extremely happy with the program. Readers can probably remember a time when the Index was as high as 310. I am happy to write: Fat Boy Index: 264.