Super Sunday?

Friday
It was the question on everyone's lips, young an old, especially the boy who stumbled in front of me and nearly vomited on my shoes. I am getting ahead of myself.
This was, of course, Super Bowl, weekend. Not that I noticed, my (and nearly everyone else around here) had been out of time some time back in September. Not that I am a defeatist but come on, the writing was on the wall for the Eagles some time ago. So it almost took me unawares when J.P Boles, of Ugly Moose fame, asked me:
"What are you doing for Sunday?"
"Well, I haven't really considered it." I replied.
This was on Friday, I was still wondering what I going to do tomorrow.
"Why don't who come down, Sunday is Wing Night. Since it's the Super Bowl, we're not doing anything that special. We'll have a hoagie out for customers. Have a few beers and watch the game," said Boles.
'Sounds like a plan," I said. I admit that I was in the mood for Wings on Sunday, even though I was entirely sure on what my next move would be five minutes in the future.

Saturday
To take me mind off of sports, I did the only natural thing. I went to a hockey game. A friend of mine with an extra ticket invited me. The Flyers were coming off a bad loss to the Rangers earlier in the week and were facing the defending Stanley Cup Champions, the Anaheim Ducks. The game was just the tonic, a 3-0 win for Philadelphia. So I did what came naturally, I went down to Main St. to celebrate.
I met up with my friend, Scott, at my usual haunt, The Flat Rock Saloon, but quickly moved onto places I rarely (read: never) frequent. Scott and I finished the evening at 105 Social, the former location of Grape Street Pub, now those days are gone. I found the music to be moderately good and the alcohol liberal, that, of course was Scott's doing entirely.
It was in the lavatory I was met with this exchange.
"Hey, who do you think is going to win, tomorrow?" a stranger asked me.
"I don't watch football often and my team isn't playing so I am not that personally interested but I know a few New York fans hoping to bring balance to the force."
The man snickered, "yea I can see that, I'm from Boston so I rooting for the Patriots."
"Yea, I'm from here, so I bleed green, but good luck to ya," I said making my exit.
"Right on," the man said.
Where do these people come from?

Sunday
Of course, the only reason I watch the Super Bowl: the commercials. I grew up in the age of impressive commercials. The standard is, naturally, Apple's iconic '1984' ad. But I remember the trailer for the film Independence Day, cue exploding White House, The Budweiser Frogs, Louie the Lizard, bud Bowl, the Bud Ice penguin, and many, many others. A lot of beer commercials really, weird, but I am sure there where other stand-outs.
Scott accompanied me to Roxborough's best-known hideaway, the Ugly Moose. It was the perfect place to go after a weekend full of frivolity. There were a dozen people in the joint. All seated at the bar around to HDTVs.
"I am pretty sure this is the first football game I've seen all year," said Scott.
"Same here, at least in its entirety," I said.
On the bar, as the Rush Chairman had said was a tray of hoagies. These were no Wawa-Amaroso tasty bites. These were the old-fashioned, aged provolone, Sarcone's crusty hearty-type sandwiches.
Scott and I split an order of wings; by the way, wings are half price on Sundays. According to Boles, the wings are the Moose see little frying oil. The wings served are jumbo-sized then baked. This is done to preserved the size, which can often be reduced when frying alone. The wings are all cooked by baking, then when ordered, are flash fried (two-three minutes, tops) to get the skin crispy. The wings are then tossed in the sauce then send to the table.
The sauce was a smokey-tangy, dark and rich. Do I detect chipotle, J.P.?

[Editor's note: I smell someone pitching a future story idea]

But to the game, surprisingly it only took about five minutes before Fox started stargazing into the crowd obligatory showing of Tom Brady's latest trophy, supermodel Gisele Bundchen, sex symbol-Borat Obsession-actress Pamela Anderson (who remembers her acting career?), and priceless pep talker and Eli's older brother, Peyton Manning.
The game itself, like most great sports matches, did not get interesting until the final minutes. But let the dailies and other sports pundits pick apart the nuances of the game, I'm too tired.

Most disturbing moment of the game:
Halftime show - When did Tom Petty become so old looking. (Although this epiphany is not nearly as disturbing as the Mick Jagger attempting to strut around the stage or Prince for just being Prince.)

Highlights of the game:
Joe Buck admitting that he and Aikman may not be the best broadcasters in the business.
The final minutes making up for a boring three quarters.
Forcing the Giants to play a final second.

Notable commercials:
Pepsi Max - Narcoleptic Joe Buck, askew toupees and Hadaway soundtrack.
Planters - cashew oil as aphrodisiac and alternative to plastic surgery. (that chick was awful)
E-Trade - follow up to the baby buying the clown and underestimating its creepiness
Iron Man - movies based on comic books are starting to come along, thanks CGI.

Quote of the night:
"So anyway to win this pool, I need the Pats to score a safety, which they probably are not going to do or I need them to score a touchdown, then miss the extra point and then get a field goal or score six touchdowns, which they are probably not going to do."
-JP Boles, with five minutes to go in the game.

[Editor's note: not a bad considering you lost your notes]

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