Super Sunday

It's Super Bowl Sunday, and B and I are getting ready for our hours of pre-game analysis; stocking up on snacks; and preparing our butts for the sofa time. There's a certain beauty to not caring which team wins the Super Bowl, and though most New Englanders haven't felt it in a while, I think they could learn to appreciate it, too. It's just so much simpler to only be interested in seeing a good football game.
I dig watching football. It's like the last bastion of true male competitiveness, where the strong, swift and intelligent survive. Football players are among the last true warriors. They depend on their own physical strengths, and capitalize on their competitors' weaknesses. They compete in every kind of weather, any time of year. (My favorite football visual is the two opposing teams lining up over the line of scrimmage, in cold weather, and you can see the players' breath as they prepare for the play. It's so frickin' masculine that it's almost a turn-on. They're all, "Grrrrrr. I'm gonna tear you up.")
The Super Bowl is something special though, as it's for all the marbles, bragging rights, and swagger that the league has to give out, and the players show it in every run, catch, touchdown celebration and tackle. There's no messing around that this is the biggest game of the year.
What? You want to know if I have a pick for who'll take home the Lombardi trophy this evening? My heart tells me that it would be nice to see Seattle win for the first time in team history, but my head says that Pittsburgh has the momentum, and experience, to take it all. So I guess that's my pick: Seattle should win, but the Steelers will. (All predictions subject to editing throughout the game.)