January 29, 2000 — Forgive me for sounding un-American, but the Super Bowl — the actual football game itself — is usually boring.
It’s usually a long, noncompetitive romp broken up by an equally drawn out and insipid halftime show. This year’s intermission “extravaganza” features 125 drummers and percussionists, a full symphony orchestra, aerial dancers, lots of really big puppets — and plenty of lip synching, I’m sure.
It’s so long that onetime Academy Award nominee Edward James Olmos was called in … to serve as narrator.
And if you happen to be an Atlanta Falcons fan (one without a penchant for gambling), you only have a vested interest in the outcome of the Super Bowl once every 34 years.
The NFL understands this and, therefore, surrounds the game with so much pomp and circumstance, so much hype and hyperbole that it becomes much more than just a championship game. It’s a celebration of American football. It’s a celebration of America.
Super Sunday is an unofficial national holiday.
Although this year’s competitors — the St. Louis Rams and the Tennessee Titans — aren’t exactly battle-tested veterans of Super Bowls past, Sunday’s game is right down the road in Atlanta, and it’s not difficult to get caught up in all of the hoopla.
Thursday, a friend and I headed down to the Georgia World Congress Center for the NFL Experience, a 15-acre interactive football funhouse that punts, passes and kicks you into submission.
After three-and-a-half hours of NFL overload, I was ready to bow down to the altars of Lombardi and Butkus.
Football is cool.
The NFL Experience, which runs through Sunday, features more than 50 interactive games and activities, and after the entry fee ($15 for adults, $12 for kids 12 and under) pretty much everything is free.
It was difficult to decide how to tackle the Experience. We began with what was closest: the Extra Point Kick, where you get to boot a football through regulation NFL uprights.
Sounds easy enough, right? I mean who among us hasn’t blasted a place-kicker for missing the point after? It should be automatic, right?
“I have a new appreciation for place-kickers,” said Mark Kersh, 39, of Chestnut Mountain, who we happened upon at the entrance. We had all just shanked our two attempts each.
“It gives me a new appreciation for stretching out before you do something, too,” added Kersh with a smile as he walked gingerly back to his wife Tara and 3-year-old daughter Marah.
The Kersh’s 9-year-old son Caleb, a fourth grader at Chestnut Mountain Elementary, came the closest to converting an extra point. One of his attempts almost nicked the crossbar.
Later in the day, the elder Kersh found an activity that required no stretching. It was called the Armchair Quarterback, and Kersh loved it. Sitting in a cushy recliner, armed with an artillery of footballs, the participant throws at a variety of targets, all the while trying to avoid hitting — of course — the television set.
“That was a little more my style,” laughed Kersh.
There were many games that involved putting a football, either by throwing or snapping or kicking, through small openings. You’ve likely seen these tests performed before on television. Only at the NFL Experience, an on-target toss doesn’t win you $1 million. Rather, you might get a slap on the back, a scattering of applause and a Charlie Batch trading card.
My friend and I eventually found that we preferred the games where the line between success and failure was a bit more blurry. And, for some reason, we seemed to gravitate toward activities that involved inflatable end zones.
As we stood in line for the Dive For Six — where you attempt to make a diving catch into, yes, an inflatable end zone — we noticed that most of the other would-be participants came up to our waists. And these kids were taking this stuff seriously. One had on receiver’s gloves. Another had a Breath-Rite strip placed on his nose, because as we all know, clear nasal passages are a must when catching Nerf footballs in an inflatable end zone.
We then headed over to the NFL Training Camp, an obstacle course in which you run through a gauntlet, between a series of tackling dummies (“You’ve got to biff the dummies,” my friend said. “Even if it costs you timewise, it just feels so good.”), and up and over an inflatable defensive line.
It was while we recuperated from the Training Camp that we spotted Tim Brown of the Oakland Raiders, one of many celebrities on hand for the Experience. Redskins quarterback Brad Johnson, Indianapolis Colts coach Jim Mora, and several other “really big guys” were seen mingling throughout the evening.
There were rumors swirling that U.S. Women’s World Cup team member and sports-bra spokeswoman Brandi Chastain was going to make an appearance. A group of men gathered around the Extra Point Kick — just to see what Brandi would do if she kicked one through.
After more than three hours and an attempt at the 40-yard dash Run To Daylight, our legs had grown weary. We were tired. We fought the mighty NFL, and the NFL won.
Football is cool.
And Sunday night I’ll be sitting in a recliner somewhere resting my legs, watching the Rams play the Titans … just like the rest of America.
Heck, I might even watch the halftime show.