The Superbowl
When I worked on the sports desk of a national newspaper I was fortunate enough to be allocated gridiron football. This was the era of the San Francisco 49ers with quarterback Joe Montana and wide receiver Jerry Rice in their pomp. It was a good gig, you got to go to the Superbowl with all its attendant schlock excess, Channel 4 – who had an imaginative Director of Sport – covered this as well as cycling and Italian football, well hosted by James Richardson.
Yet, then and now, I could never really get my head around it. There was no relegation, cheerleaders are a poor substitute for an end in full voice and, worst of all, a game that lasts one hour took four to televise. I also had difficulty with the franchise system. Imagine if Ivan’s Seagulls were moved to Durham and out of their own city Brighton.
I did watch the Superbowl. My approach to early hours viewing is not to hope to stay up late but to go to bed earlier and join the action around 1.00 am.
This worked well as, surprisingly, at half time the underdogs the Philadelphia Eagles were in the lead. Pargie texted that he was betting against them as surely Tom Brady, the New England Patriot quarterback, would achieve victory with his metronomic throwing accuracy.
The coverage was good enough. There was some ex-player who got very excited but the plays were well analysed. Of interest given the introduction of VAR in football and the referral system in cricket was the use of video evidence.
This supported my view that, as in the penalty in Liverpool v Spurs, there are occasions when you simply cannot tell enough from the video to reach a final decision. This only leads to a cessation of drama. This happened with one touchdown. Did the player have the ball under control? It was an arbitrary decision and the first view of the referee was upheld. This often happens in cricket too. Important aspects of sport – the celebration, the continuity – are lost and replaced by ultimate indecision.
My main critique of gridiron is that it is formulaic. You will never get the frisson of excitement when the ball is delivered to a George Best – or Pele or Maradona or Cruyff – that he might do something truly individual and exceptional with it. You can admire the arm of a Dan Marino or Tom Brady but I never get that same thrill. American sport loves a statistic. Personally I don’t care a whit that Brady threw over 500 yards but lost. The crucial moment was his sacking .
This said, as a contest it was first-rate with that great ingredient of the underdog upsetting a largely unpopular Goliath.
Irony of ironies, just when you thought Brady would take the Patriots through the gears to victory, he was sacked – the only sacking of the game – and the Eagles ran out victors.
