Welcome to America! What would you like in your Super Bowl?

I make no secret of the fact that I am not a football fan. In fact, I'm not a 'sports' guy at all. For the most part, I don't play, watch, or really care one way or the other about them. There's just not much there to hold my interest. Given the choice, I fully admit that I'd rather curl up on the couch with my wife to watch Say Anything or Shakespeare in Love (for the 47th time) than hang with boys to 'watch the big game'. And most contemporary psychological theory would tell me that's okay. Back me up here, Oprah. But I digress . . . .

Despite my almost categorical disinterest in sports, as a kid I did devote that requisite three hours per year with my family downstairs on the couch. While we inhaled our hoagies, Doritos, and clam dip, I did my best to feign interest as we watched the big, sweaty, testosterone-and-steroid saturated men in helmets dance their ackward end-run cha cha's across our giant 20" Technicolor RCA.

The appeal for me was more the combination of clever commercials and junk food than the game. An hour afterward, I would have been hard pressed to tell you what the final score was. But did you check out that new Dr. Pepper commercial?! How'd they get those people to dance on the ceiling ? Probably super powers or something. Amazing. To this day, I love Lionel Richie and Dr. Pepper equally.

So speaking of Dr. Pepper, multi-million dollar airtime, and unbridled capitalism, I was reading the Tribune last Saturday. As expected, the news in Arizona is of course all a buzz this year with Superbowl hype. I normally skip right over the sports section, but as I was making breakfast Karolee was scanning the headlines. She started reading an article to me about what people are willing to pay these days for a good seat. Any guesses? $500? Nope, you can't even tailgate within city limits for that. $1000? Keep trying. (although your Grover Cleveland will will buy you a big new wall-mounted plasma and all the Keystone Light you can drink).

Okay, you really want to know? The average price for a ticket (in the nosebleeds, mind you) is around $4000. The most expensive ticket is upwards of $18,000!!

That's one-eight-comma-zero-zero-zero.

When she read that, I stopped my egg making mid-scramble and rushed to the table, sure that there must have been either a typo or a misplaced decimal. But sure enough, someone-- apparently lots of someones-- out there are willing spend $18,000 to get close enough smell the B.O. and Gatorade. That's around $6000 an hour to sit on a plastic seat, watch some football , and bear witness to a 'live' Britney lip sync (tube sock arm-cozies and all) or experience a celebrity wardrobe malfunction. Maybe you get free appetizers and cocktails.

But $18,000. . . I was speechless. I don't consider myself particularly thrifty and I'm not immune to materialism. But something about this struck a chord. As I stood there mystified, my mind was reeling. My vision blurred. My stomach began to turn. TV commericals from my 1980's adolescence started swirling and overlapping in my head. For an instant, I was Sally Struthers, standing outside a desolate plague-ridden Ethiopian village, pleading to 30 million white, middle-class suburbanites on the other side of the camera lens. "For just 79 cents a day, this poor emaciated little girl can receive three meals a day, clothing, and the medicine she so desperately needs . . . "

Then it all clicked.

Those charity case commericals used to get under my skin. There was actually a time long ago when I wondered why so many foreign cultures despise Americans. If you're still wondering, you don't have to look beyond my newspaper. I even saved a copy for you.

It's not you they hate. It's not me. It's not even wardrobe malfunctions. It's not who we are. It's what you, me, and Britney can and often do become. And it all has to do with perspective.

From the 'outside world's' perspective, Americans live in a big, fast, pretentious, overcommercialized, overweight, shallow, misguided world. Yes, we all know this. We are the Ugly Americans. Everything has become Walmart. People spend more on cars than I did on my house. My house could provide shelter for 17 families in Mogadishu.

Our counterparts in foregin countries see us bask in our ignorant, wasteful, overconsuming, and sheltered bliss. They see our shrines as football arenas packed with money-laden fanatic fans watching armored warriors battle for domination. They see . . . well . . .you get the picture. I don't think the Superbowl is inherintly evil. I don't think that capitalism, sports, or 'finally getting your piece of the pie' are bad things either. I like pie.

I was going to go into the this elaborate, scathing criticism on the shortcomings of Western society and how disconnected we've become from the things we claim to value-- like charity, compassion, identifying a freind in need, helping those who can't help themselves. I was going to talk about all that, but I won't. Karolee told me I need to drop it.

She's right. But . . .

What I will say is that if you feel even just a teeny little bit like I did when you found out that a ticket to the Superbowl costs $18,000, then there are things you SHOULD and SHOULDN'T do about it. You SHOULDN'T spend an entire week festering and obsessing over how warped and selfish this country has come.--like I did. Instead, you SHOULD sit down on the living room floor on a Saturday night and talk to your wife (or husband) . He or she might remind you that change starts with helping our own families, neighbors, friends, donating clothes you don't need, etc. And with that said, I hope I'm not a hypocrite.

I, like everyone else, could be doing a little bit more. I don't have an extra $18,000, but I probably have an extra $1.80. Buy a bum a Coke and sit down and talk to him. Listen to his story (I had a friend named George whom I should thank for that suggestion; without his example I would have never gained the insights that I did from Phil and Freddie 'The Dreamer' Wall). Go volunteer somewhere. Get to know the family next door to you. It doesn't matter. If you give a little more, someone else might not have to take so much.

I just hope someday Americans, with all that we have access to, will reach a point at which they care as much about that filling that emaciated little girl's rice bowl as they do packing the Superbowl. That's all.


Keep it in perspective,


Jake