On The Jersey Bowl

I'll admit it: I hate February in New York. It is a conglomeration of the worst elements of the city, everyone dressed up in mountaineering gear and cursing and shoving past each other on sidewalks narrowed to meager footpaths by 12-foot snowdrifts the color of bile. And if February in New York is bad, I have to imagine that February in New Jersey is worse, just by default.

That said, I'm pretty excited about the 2014 Super Bowl. I never thought this would happen...a cold weather Super Bowl...but now that it has, it seems like nothing but upside to me. The arguments against it--with the obvious exception of the safety hazards, which are dwarfed by the fact that football itself is a safety hazard--all seem kind of ridiculous and contrived. "Is it fair for teams to potentially alter their game plans dramatically in the face of wintry conditions?" asks SI's Jim Trotter, and my answer to that question is: Are you kidding me? Isn't this the very definition of football, the thing that sets it apart from climate-controlled pastimes like football and hockey? Maybe the game will be sloppy, and maybe it will be ugly, and maybe it will neutralize some of the modern elements of the game itself--maybe it will wind up 7-3--but why is that a terrible thing? Football fans who watch the Super Bowl would appreciate the change of pace; non-football fans who watch the Super Bowl are far more interested in the commercials. So why is it acceptable for Green Bay to potentially play an NFC Championship game in a wind-chill of minus-59, but the Super Bowl must be contested in a Disneyified greenhouse?

I sympathize with the notion that cold-weather games are never as fun for the players or the spectators as they are for the television viewers, but the NFL sold this game as the ultimate made-for-television product many years ago, then completely abandoned the very nature of the game itself for a bland rotation of domes and palm trees. On television, nothing looks cooler than a snow bowl. I hope it happens in February of 2014. I just hope I happen to be on vacation when it does.

On Snow Bowls

It's snowing here in Brooklyn, and the shelves at Trader Joe's have been swept clean of Trader O's, and I've come to a conclusion: At this point in my existence, I like the idea of snow more than snow itself. I suppose that's inevitable; at some point, snow becomes a burden rather than an excuse, and the negatives outweigh the positives in every possible way...except when it comes to sports. I find myself actively wishing that the AFC Championship were being played at the Meadowlands this afternoon. I find myself thinking that a Super Bowl played in the snow would be, regardless of outcome, one of the three most memorable games in history. I realize that the NFL would never allow it, but the more I think about it, I'm not sure why they wouldn't; this is a sport that essentially built its legacy on a frozen tundra, but it's practitioners are too soft to play the most important game of the season in anything other than optimal conditions?

I would argue that, in this age of media saturation, we remember games affected by the weather more fondly than any other. I mean, if I bring up the Tuck Rule game, what's the first thing you remember? It was snowing. The Ice Bowl, and The Fog Bowl: This is football; or at least, this is football, until the Super Bowl, or until the bowl season.* So why not play a Super Bowl in New Jersey, or in Green Bay, or in Boston? Why not play the BCS Championship in Pittsburgh? It's not like the game won't sell out and generate millions in revenue, even if it's in Detroit. What exactly are they afraid of? CEOs contracting frostbite? Most of the halftime acts are already cryogenically preserved. If there's a populist revolution in the offing in this country, this is where the revolution begins: With a big game in the snow.

One of the three most memorable games I ever attended in person was this one, back in 1987. You want to know what I remember most? It's not the finish, even though the finish was outstanding**. What I remember is that I went to buy a hot chocolate at halftime, and I held it up to my lips and the chocolate dribbled down my chin. I was so cold that my lips had frozen into solid blocks. At the time, it was painful, but in retrospect, it was one of the seminal moments of my existence.

I don't think I'd ever want to experience that again, but I'd like to experience it vicariously.

*With the notable exception of the Cotton Bowl, where the weather seemed entirely unpredictable. The idea that it could snow in Texas never ceased to be shocking.
 **And damn, Blair Thomas was a truly great running back before he tore up his knee.

(Photo: Ezra Shaw/Getty Images)