For Super Bowl watchers, it’s time to tackle the job of cheering and eating nachos

It’s finally here, Super Bowl Sunday.

For those of us who live in Kansas or Missouri we’re especially revved up. You’ve probably noticed there has been more local hoop-la over this Super Bowl than we’ve seen in 50 years. But hey, what’s a half century when we’re going to have a big time today.

Every age, football fan or not, everyone is pumped. I went to Jefferson Elementary Monday for Girl Power and students, teachers and staff were decked out in Chiefs attire, or at least wearing red.

I’ve gone to lots of Super Bowl parties, but until the last few years I didn’t care to watch, but enjoyed socializing. The year Janet Jackson had a wardrobe malfunction during the half-time show I didn’t see the mishap or more than 30 seconds of the game. Imagine how pleased all the guys were when I totally guessed what the final score would be and won the prize for being the closest. Funny how there was no applause.

But a small wager makes watching more fun, and my increased interest in football has me ready to tackle the job of cheering and eating nachos.

My husband and I bet $5 on the game. I’m looking right now at not one, but two five dollar bills tacked to my bulletin board. I’ve won the past two years. But he got to choose which team he wanted this year. Dang it! Of course he picked the Chiefs. So there I’ll be rooting for the Chiefs and hoping I’ll lose one of the five dollar bills.

Super Bowl Sunday used to mean I’d serve the chili then go shopping. It’s surprising, but these days I’d rather watch big men crush each other then go find a hot bargain that I’d hide in the trunk of my car for a few days.

Being a Chiefs fan and a Packers fan too, I’m trying harder to understand football. My very patient husband knows the rules top to bottom, even the new rules, so he does color commentary which helps.

He has tried to explain it, but I still don’t get the part where one team kicks the ball way down the field, then someone from the other team might catch it and go down on one knee, or maybe just watch it go into the end zone or not touch it and look down on the ball as though it’s a rare insect.

Don’t laugh. I’m sure I’m not the only one of the 110 million people watching who doesn’t grasp every strange rule of this my-team-can-beat-up-your-team sport.

When a player is hurt and lies there on the ground, I instantly think of the panic his wife and/or his mother must be feeling. Not to mention what the player must feel like after being mowed down and jumped on. Who dreamed up this sport anyway?

Well, it seems the game of football came about because a rugby player in England was tired of using only his feet so he picked up the ball and ran with it. He probably got thrown to the ground by an opposing team member and the game of football was born. That was in 1863. Yes, that is a simplified version of the history of football.

Imagine how safe their uniforms were. Ha! We’ve all seen pictures of football players from the old days with a little padding on their shoulders and wearing leather helmets.

Thank goodness the equipment is better today, but think about when a player is flipped in the air and lands on his back. Then several 300-pound guys pile on top of him. At that point even the padding they wear now can’t be enough.

Think for a moment how much it hurts when you fall down and how sore you are the next day. This is a game where everyone, even the kicker once in a while, hits the ground. Personally, I don’t think we should send a guy on the field unless he’s a dead ringer for the Michelin Man.

All right, get your game face on. It’s time for the Super Bowl! Eat and drink all you want because it’s a national holiday. Of sorts. Go Chiefs!