Cam Newton was teary-eyed. Eli Manning looked like he'd been slapped (and seems to be ready to reprise Brad Garrett's role in an episode of Everybody Loves Peyton).
But no one was more surprised about the Broncos winning the Super Bowl than the state of Colorado.
For those of you who don't live here, let me tell you what these last couple of weeks have been like. First, I don't think ANYONE expected us to win against the Patriots and, to be honest, I think most of us were okay with the fact that we wouldn't have to face Carolina in the Super Bowl. Despite the fact that the entire state would like to egg Tom Brady's house...we were pretty relieved at the thought of letting him take on the Panthers and quietly retreating into post-season.
And then we won.
You see, I believe that most Colorado residents suffer from Super Bowl PTSD. Our little Bronco world was shattered with that little 48-3 loss against the Seahawks. So, when we learned we were Super Bowl bound...not everyone was all that excited.
Yes, you Broncos fans - you can argue with me all you want. But this town wasn't REALLY as a-buzz with Super Bowl mania as it has been in the past. I think the best way to sum up our attitude toward the upcoming game was "cautious optimism." But face it. You mainly went to that party for the food and to commiserate with your friends at the end.
But you won. Thanks to the defense that, at one point, we were all wishing could just play the entire game.
A quick note to Mr. Manning: being the good little southern boy I know you are, I know you're busy writing all those thank-you notes to your defense.
~
You'd think after all I just wrote about the Broncos that I'm a fan. I'm actually not. They're on my list, but they're not number one.
So, I was one of those people who showed up at my sister's house yesterday to drink her booze, eat her food, and watch the commercials.
Thank God the game was good. Because the commercials sucked.
Dear Super Bowl 50 Commercial Pickers,
As part of the viewing public, I'd like to give you a few notes on the commercials that ran during Super Bowl 50. You know...the ones you charged about $5 million a pop to run.
First of all, I showed up to see puppies with Clydesdale horses - not to be insulted by Helen Mirren about my drinking habits (there was some British word in there that I didn't understand, but it couldn't have been good). Christopher Walken and mismatched socks is not going to sell me a Kia (but Scott Baio in a glass case might make me buy a Hyundai, I can't explain why). And what the f--k was up with that creepy monkey?
I realize that pharmaceuticals are where the money's at, but I think you need to be a little more discerning in the ads you choose to run. Toenail fungus is not what I want to be thinking about as I mingle with strangers who took their shoes off so as not to track in snow.
And NO ONE wants to watch a commercial about Irritable Bowel Syndrome as they're on their fifth round of hot wings, I don't care how cute you make that walking ball of intestines. (That especially horrified the men in the room, so it is possible you hit your target audience.)
The only thing that saved you this year was that one Doritos commercial with the baby shooting out of the woman and the Super Bowl babies series, which has everyone in America looking to November to see which one of their friends pops out a new family member.
Please step up your game next year. If the Broncos can do it, so can you.
Sincerely,
Me
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