Hi again everyone.Hope your week has got off to a good start. The Superbowl dinner on Sunday evening, was great and very well attended. There were screens set up all over the two dining rooms, some large and some smaller ones. Hubby and I got front row seats at a table very close to the main screen. The sound was turned down, but there was so much chatter going on that we wouldn’t have been able to hear the commentary anyway. The New York Giants were in the lead for most of the first quarter, but just before the break, the New England Patriots started to make headway. I hadn’t a clue what was going on, but it was fascinating to watch these guys just rushing at one another and tackling even the ones who didn’t have the ball. It looked even more barbaric than rugby. They would just knock one another flying, or pick the guy up as though he weighed nothing, and just throw him to the ground.
The food wasn’t junk food at all, and there was lots of choice. The ‘sub’ station had two-metre long rolls with delicious fillings, and hubby had a slice of the tuna one. He did leave half of the bread though; not good for the waistline. I had a bowl of mixed salads, and then went to inspect the tureen of turkey chilli. I was overheard expressing my apprehension that it might be a bit too spicy for me, by the woman next in the line, who asked where I was from. “Oh, my rabbi in New Jersey is from South Africa,” she said, “I love your accent, let me taste it for you and I’ll tell you if it’s hot or not.” It was just right, like baby bear’s porridge, neither too hot, nor too mild. People are so sweet here; the elderly man on the next table told me I looked very nice, and when I thanked him for the compliment, and said that I didn’t understand the game at all, he told me that he used to earn his living as a professional player. It was hard to imagine this dear old man, now needing a walker to get around, as a strong youngster, light on his feet, racing around the football field. Then of course, I got to imagining the players on the screen as they may be in fifty years time, with their sticks and walkers. It was a sad thought.
Annie21, who lives in the States, had told me to watch out for the ads, as they are usually very entertaining. She was right about that. Apparently it costs $3,5m for a 30 second commercial on Superbowl night!
I saw Elton John in a Pepsi ad:
I read that he was thrilled out of his mind to be asked to be King for a day. Hubby said, “But I thought he was a queen, not a king.”
Clint Eastwood was at his most gritty and gravelly, in a Chrysler ad:
Then there was David Beckham advertising himself in H&M undies.
Half time saw 53-year-old Madonna prancing around the stage with male dancers, acrobats and cheerleaders. I wonder how much she was paid to do her song and dance act. I really think she’s had her day though. She’s definitely no longer the ‘it’ girl.
We went home to watch the second half of the game, and I was delighted when the New York Giants, who weren’t the favourites, won 21-17, after a touchdown by Eli Manning.
He was awarded the “most valuable player” award, and was presented with this beautiful black Chevy Corvette, special centennial edition. What a superb prize!
So, I watched my first Superbowl match, amidst the roars and groans of American fans. It was the most watched TV programme in US history, with 111,3 million viewers, and was certainly an evening to remember.
Yesterday we had rain almost all day, but it was very welcome for the new grass and plants. We chickened out of the ballroom dance class last night. I’m not sure if we will go again. This instructor is way too fancy for hubby and I. We just want to learn how to not to step on one another’s toes, not compete on “Dancing with the stars.”
Wishing you all a very happy Tuesday. Chat again soon.