Monday, February 8, 2016

Super Bowl 2016 Observations

     My interest in professional sports has been sinking for a number of years, for a bunch of reasons. I really don't pay much attention anymore. Occasionally I will tune in to local sports talk here in Philadelphia, which I can only handle in short spurts. I become quickly agitated by the hosts, and their obnoxious commercial advertisements. They are nothing more than salesmen, constantly trying to sell me on some restaurant, some porn club, some auto dealer, or some home improvement outfit. In between sales pitches, if you catch them at just the right time, they manage to shoehorn in a few minutes of sports talk.

I have already spent entirely too much time on "sports" talk. My apologies. Anyway....

     I somewhat forced myself to sit and watch the entire super bowl last night. I haven't done that in four years. Being involved in a Christian paranormal ministry, you might wonder why I am blogging about the super bowl. Well, if you will remember, last years super bowl featured Beyoncé as the halftime "entertainment." She admitted that during this performance (as well as in her other concerts) she channeled a spirit she calls "Sasha." She states that Sasha is the compelling force in her performances. I have no doubt she is sincere. What the main stream media and the masses fail to understand, however, is that this channeled entity is a demon. I am sure most see this as something harmless, sort of like a child playing with an imaginary friend.

     So I watched the super bowl to see if Sasha would make an appearance. I cant say at this point. We will have to wait for Beyoncé to speak.

     I was also interested in what the content of the commercials would be. I wondered how I might be impressed by anything super bowl related, whether pregame, during, or post game. And honestly, I wanted to see a good football game. I happen to think the American game of football is a magnificent game, and without need of all the bells and whistles that the super bowl is now defined by.  I love the strategy of the game itself. And it certainly does not need the behaviors and on field displays of "celebration" which also have now come to define the NFL.

     Which brings me to another reason I watched the super bowl.

     I wanted to see Carolina Panthers quarterback Cam Newton go up in flames. Newton has come to epitomize the new breed of the on field NFL punk. Yeah, punk. Oh, prior to last nights game the apologists for Newton's on field histrionics were all over the airwaves, claiming "Cam is just having fun," and "he loves the game," and my favorite, "he plays happy." They would cite his giving footballs to children in the stands after scoring a touchdown. I was convinced all along Cam Newton was all about Cam Newton. I was sure, given the opportunity, Newton's true colors would come shining through.

And boy oh boy, did he ever expose himself, during and after the game.

    As for his play itself in the super bowl, he stunk. He was awful. He overthrew receivers and fumbled twice. Of all the super bowls I have personally watched I cant remember a worse performance by a quarterback. I am sure the apologists will come out at some point. They will say his team overall played poorly, which is true. But before the game it was all about Cam. Cam, Cam, Cam. Well, the heat was on and Cam Newton melted like a stick of butter on a sidewalk in July.

    But for me, the play that truly exposed his heart, or lack thereof, was late in the fourth quarter, with his team on about their own 20 yard line, down 16-10. The game was on the line. These are the moments that define great players, and create legendary moments, like Joe Montana hitting Dwight Clark in the back of the end zone. Newton drops back to pass, and has the ball stripped by Von Miller, the games deserved MVP. The ball is loose on the ground and players from both sides attempt to recover the fumble. Where is the fun loving, game loving, happy Cam Newton during this? After all, he was the one who lost the ball. Oh, he was there, and he thought about jumping into the fray, but he pulled back, allowing the Denver Broncos to recover the ball, essentially sealing the victory.

     Superman Cam was afraid to recover a fumble. I guess Cam loves Cam more than he loves the game of football.

     This is a moment which should live forever in super bowl infamy. We should all let Scott Norwood's wide right now rest in piece.

     Before last nights super bowl it wasn't nice to point out how much you disliked Cam Newton's on field antics. You were labeled as a hater, a complainer,  accusations of racism even arising. Gee, what a shock. Come on man, Cam's just having fun, and giving souvenirs to kids. This morning everyone is stating the obvious about Cam Newton. Today Mr. Newton is being seen in a whole new light, you know, like when luminol is sprayed to reveal traces of blood at a crime scene, traces undetectable to the human eye.

     Well, many of us had Cam Newton pegged right all along. But our voices were muffled and shouted down. We had ulterior motives. We really couldn't see what was clearly displayed by Newton's actions. We were haters.

     Today sports talk will be filled with all of the easy post game observations of Cam Newton by hosts and callers. It's easy to "hate" now. It is also really easy to smile and celebrate and love the game when you are winning and everyone is fawning all over you. The true measure of character is discovered in adversity, like the adversity Cam Newton faced last night.

     If you are one of those who didn't want to hear the ugly truth about Cam Newton beforehand, may I suggest the next time a player, or a politician, or an entertainer arises with a flash and a splash and is showered with adoration and everyone is defending their words and apparent selfish behavior, take some time to consider what the naysayers are actually saying. They may just be making sense.

     I didn't even get into Cam Newton's post game presser sulk fest. Pathetic. Talk about someone who needs to put on some big boy pants.

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