Most people who know me know that my batting average for sports know-how is in a slump, to say the least. I tend to recognize most famous athletes – not based on their record-breaking achievements – but because of which celebrities they’re dating (Lamar Odom plays basketball, right?). I’m not always proud of this, but the jock life never really appealed to me. It’s a complicated game knowing the difference between a “time out” and “intermission” or “practice” verses “rehearsal.” Perhaps I’m missing a key rah-rah gene that doesn’t prevent me from always heading to the exit whenever the big game is cranked up at my favorite pub?
This isn’t to say that I don’t admire the great athletes out there or that I don’t care about the state of sports, especially when it comes to coming out (that can’t be easy). It’s just that you won’t find me on the sidelines…wearing team colors…and a painted face like something out of Braveheart. Really, the only painted faces I see these days belong to folks who go by the name of Brittany Lynn, Salotta Tea and Summer Clearance.
And no, I don’t own a single team jersey or cap. And I have no idea where ESPN is located on my Comcast menu. I once met Joe Torre when he was manager of the New York Yankees and asked him what he did for a living. It’s that bad.
However, when it was announced that Madonna – Madonna! – would be playing the Super Bowl show this season, all bets were off.
Could the Material Girl actually inspire me (me, who can scarcely identify most NFL players by name…unless they hurt puppies, Michael Vick) to consider having (gasp) a Super Bowl party? And is it technically possible to call it a Super Bowl party without actually watching the Super Bowl and, instead, playing, like, Madonna videos until the half-time show? Because if it is, count me in!
The gene that I do seem to possess (in spades) – the one that involves entertaining – has already kicked in. We could have “Lucky Star” and cone-shaped cookies and “Borderline” Texas chili on the menu. We could serve “Frozen” margaritas and pizzas that are ready in like, “Four Minutes,” with a Shanghai Surprise for take-out (or maybe Evita-inspired tapas from Argentina?). And don’t get me started on the “True Blue” team colors – no matter who actually makes it to the big game on February 5th.
And these are just a few ideas I’ve been tossing around like the old pig skin. So who’s with me?