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Day 184: The Crescendo

February 7, 2011

Initially, I theorized that I might go to Disneyland.  Later, I contemplated a shorter day trip with my pregnant wife to the Tehachapi mountains.  Eventually, I determined that the best way to steer clear of Super Bowl XLV was to treat it like any other day.

In order to properly tune out the general population’s enthusiasm over the greatest manufactured spectacle in the Americas, I had to approach it with the mindset that it was no different than any other day off.  We woke up at about 10am (Pacific time) and once we were prepared for the day, we set about tending to various household and automotive duties.  There was a rest period of about an hour around the time of kick-off.

I don’t think I’ve devoted nearly enough column space to Melissa’s support of Year Without Football.  She could have easily dismissed my efforts as yet another fruitless pet project, but I’ve been extremely fourtunate to have a partner so supportive of a lengthy, formative project such as this.  Especially, of all years, this one.  Melissa’s father, as you may recall, is easily one of the top 5 Green Bay Packers fans in the Kern County area.  She doesn’t remember too much about her father’s reaction the last time the Packers won the Super Bowl, a victory over the Patriots in 1997 at Super Bowl Desmond Howard (the game number ended up less consequential than Howard’s single-game performance).  She had anticipated seeing how her father would react in either the affirmative or the negative.  However, the labors of the pregnant life, combined with the culmination of over six months of my evasion of gridiron hype, led to the decision to make this Super Bowl Sunday a pre-family day.

In order to shield me from the results, she has filtered my access to Facebook to the point where she will be sure to close all programs before allowing me access to the computer.  To a greater extent, when phoning her mother to inquire about dad’s response to the result, she told me to crank the volume in the living room up while she shut the door to the den to take the call.

The only websites I’ve visited today are my Hattrick account (a 5-0 loss to my league’s leader), a Northeastern University message board in preparation for tomorrow’s Beanpot Tournament madness vs. Harvard, and my GMail account where I received a response from Kyle Whelliston of

Thanks for forwarding me to your great site. I’ve always seen this as a solitary exercise and a game one plays against himself, the most intimidating opponent of all. It looks like you have plenty of practice this season though, so I couldn’t possibly compete on an equal level. I’ll definitely put up links to you. Some of TMM’s readers are going to take part this year as well, and the Twitter hashtag is #LastMan. Best of luck, and see you on the other side.


(…so…I win by forfeit!?  Thanks for the Twitter plug! #LastMan)

As I type this, it’s approximately 1:22am EST and I am still unaware of the winner and score of Super Bowl XLV.  They’ve fired off the confetti, transferred the Vince Lombardi Trophy, measured the number of nationwide flushes enacted during the halftime show, and conducted the mandatory post-game awkward interview with the losing head coach, and I’m blissfully ignorant as to the recipient of national accolades.

Go without knowing who won the Super Bowl?  That’s easy for the other 6 billion people in the world who really don’t give a crap.  For the other 1/7th of the world’s population, I’ll try to hold off as long as I can.

On to Beanpot Monday!



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