Is it super yet?

So the New England Patriots win another Super Bowl, their third in 4 years, this time around beating the Philadelphia Eagles 24-21. Exciting game, right?

You mean you nodded off as well? How could a game that was decided by a field goal contain all the excitement of an Ambien pill? Both teams played terribly in the first half. When McNabb fumbled the football in the third play of the game, it looked like it might be a long night for Eagles fans. But then the much-vaunted Patriots started stinking up the joint as well. Now we have a football game, I thought, not exactly one for the ages, but at least one that would engage me for the next few hours. Not.

Both teams played to a sloppy tie at halftime, something that has happened only once before in Super Bowl history. (Did I hear that one right?) Then out came Paul McCartney and his Hofner bass to restore some luster to the halftime show following last year’s debacle. It’s amazing how a 62-year-old former Beatle can, in four songs, shame many of today’s pop stars by trotting out everything they lack: solid songs, crafty musicianship, live singing, and a genuine connection with his audience rather than his wardrobe. Good show, Macca!

Too bad the pregame festivities—at least what I saw of them—weren't nearly as good. In her performance of “America the Beautiful,” Alicia Keys got upstaged by video of the late Ray Charles. Was I the only one who noticed her ad lib, after the line “God shed his grace on thee,” “Lord knows we need it”? Now what was that all about? Did I sense a veiled huff?

The tribute to the Greatest Generation was okay. The sight of a B-24 Liberator flying over the stadium moved me personally. My late father flew 33 missions on one of those babies in the ETO during World War II. Why can’t we fill a football stadium with people who are there for no other reason than to honor veterans? Now that would be a tribute. I can hear the screams from the Left even now. In their bizarro world, a salute on that grand a scale to the men and women who defend freedom would be likened to Hitler speaking at Nuremberg stadium.

Both football teams played better—but hardly super—in the second half, and so did the commercials. Ameriquest Mortgage’s “Don’t judge too quickly” spot with the cook, his cat, some spilled tomato sauce and a carving knife was a hoot. So was the careerbuilder.com ad featuring a guy who worked in an office full of monkeys with a fondness for whoopee cushions. The Anheuser Busch “Thank you” message for veterans was touching.

“So Bones, you’re not much of a football fan, are you? Here you are at the end of your post [thanks for the correction, nausikaa], and you’ve written perhaps a half-dozen sentences about the game.”

Well, I would have wrote more, but someone told me if I did, the Easter Bunny gets whacked.