Sir and I were having a bit of a chuckle over the weekend while watching the football playoffs. Well, Sir was watching, I was listening.
This year, the Super Bowl is being played in New York/New Jersey. In February. In an open stadium. I have read the long range weather forecast, and New York that weekend is going to experience – and I quote – weather being described as “stormy, heavy rain and snow.”
May I introduce you to one New Jersey businessman, who forked out $4,000 for two tickets, and is now in the process of suing the NFL for violating the state Consumer Fraud Act which evidently stops companies from withholding more than 5 percent of available seating to the public.
I suppose however he got quite a deal, as the average ticket price is now running at $3,110 per bottom.
Now flash forward to Feb. 2 with our businessman and guest sitting in their gold plated seats, possibly in the nosebleed section of the stadium, just having a ball in the forecasted storm, getting drenched and thence snowed upon.
What rocket scientist in the NFL decided New York in February in an open stadium was a crash hot idea?
But that is not why we were chuckling, other than of course, chortling in amazement that anyone in his or her right mind would shell out that kind of a dough for a football game where you don’t even get to see the commercials, certainly the highlight of my day.
No, we decided that the next Super Bowl should be held in Denver. Certainly Mile High Stadium is not domed either, and is most assuredly subject to the harshness of winter in equal measures.
But now that marijuana – the wacky weed, the marijahoochy – is legal in Colorado, imagine the fan experience then.
It seems that the Guinness World Book of Records must attend every football game across the country as the fans strive at the expense of their throats to create the greatest noise ever heard at such an event.
What a treat it would be to watch the 76,125 mellowed out fans at the biggest game of the year. There would be no screaming, there would be no roars, there would only be whisper quiet slow motion “Wows” rippling gently around the stadium. A record indeed would be broken, but at the other end of the decibel scale.
There would be no macho-aggro expostulating as to the veracity of a referee’s call, as everyone would be just a tad slow on the uptake in realizing any transgression, and by the time the sin was discovered it would be immediately dismissed as the collective attention span of the crowd would be diverted to the pretty colors of the cheerleaders’ outfits. “Man, look at those pom-poms” would likely be the most aggressive statement of the afternoon.
I guess the only real glitch might come with the concession stands. Have you any idea how much food 76,125 happy campers can get through?
Annie Dear lives in Lee’s Summit. Email her at firstname.lastname@example.org.