It was a bad omen that the National Football League planned its annual gala in Detroit. Detroit literally is one of the most miserable places in our solar system. Jupiter’s red hurricane is a mere summer shower compared to the sorrow waiting at the Motor City’s gate.

I feel like I’ve been robbed, not like gunpoint robbed, but more like one of those come home to find your favorite belongings have been swiped deals.

I thoroughly enjoyed this entire football season – my favorite team was competitive again – the Colts presumably were something special and the soap opera in Philadelphia will win daytime Emmy’s. But what was supposed to be the crowning achievement of a natural sports fan’s year was horrible.

I guess I maybe turned my head at the prospect of having two teams in which neither I, nor most of the country had any feelings toward. It was still going to be the Super Bowl! It turned out to be less than super. It might even be a crime to all things super to continue to refer to this year’s in the same context, Superman would be angry, Rick James would be turning in his grave!

The only thing that kept my attention during the game was the lovely array of gameday munchies arranged by my roommate.

The Seahawks dominated the entire first half, and rightfully should have been leading. They were robbed by mistakes from their big mouth tight end and, more especially, by the officiating crew.

Where do they get these guys from? The Super Bowl is supposed to be the biggest sporting event of the year, yet they brought in the worst officials I have seen thus far, probably the same ones from the MLB playoffs. A tacky pass interference, a bad holding call, and wave goodbye to both touchdowns for the Seahawks. Not only quick-decision mistakes, but even when given the chance to look at replay. Wrong again.

But I digress, let’s put an end to complaining about the officials. Closing statement: It was wrong what happened Sunday, and we know what “Bus” the officiating crew drove home on.

Not only did outside forces have a strange hold on this game, but the stars from the winning team didn’t show up either. People claiming Big Ben to be the next Joe Montana found out that his beard cut off the circulation. Fans that wanted to see Jerome Bettis ride off into the sunset saw him coaching and then rumbling his huge body for two yards a pop. It was bad, I tell you. Bad. Across the board, I was aggravated.

When the Seattle owner reassured Mike Holmgren that he was a good coach and the right man to win the championship, what was he thinking? That was the worst coached Super Bowl performance in recent memory.

Not only did the Seahawks abandon what appeared to be an effective offense, they actually changed their pass-protection scheme for no reason. I was irate upon seeing this, and this was before the worst managed four minutes in sports. The last two minutes of both halves were the worst I can remember. What was Holmgren doing? He has run the two minute drill before – the objective is to preserve time, not waste it.

Overall, I was happy to see Bill Cowher win his Super Bowl and hand off the trophy to the best owner in football (now that Wellington Mara has passed). But come on, even the Rolling Stones were bad, and they had 45 years to practice. I guess you can’t get a great Super Bowl every year and the damn Patriots spoiled us. I just hope that those officials get lost on their way home from Detroit and end up in a movie directed by Michael Moore.

Ian Gold is a senior in communications. He can be reached at [email protected].