New Yorker’s bet was on the Panthers

Boy do I wish I had been in Denver last week. It’s at a time like this that I feel true love and homesickness for my hometown.

When I sat down to watch the Super Bowl with some friends, one of them quipped: “Do you even know the rules of football?” “Yes, I know the basics,” I replied, “I know what a touchdown is,” to which one friend burst out laughing.

Over the years I have accumulated more basics than that, like … the object is to get the ball down the field; there are downs, there are yard lines, uh, basics like that.

Because I didn’t exactly project the image of a TV sports fan, especially of a sport that’s so violent, my friend assumed I knew nothing about the game. And I admit, she was closer to the truth in her question than I was in my reply.

But what she didn’t understand was this: Denver. And the Broncos. It’s a Denver thing. Period. It’s not for nothing that we are the strongest sports fan city in the NFL.

If you are from around those parts, Broncos matter. You are loyal. Period.

It’s good fun, and a team you can truly be proud of.

So even though one of my favorite columnists, George Will, warned about the dangerous, cumulative brain damage side of the game, joking (or maybe not joking) that the Super Bowl ought to be called “The 50th Chronic Traumatic Encephalopathy Bowl” — no worries. He also referred to it as the “national campfire,” as well as noting that it is so august that it is usually denoted with Roman numerals.

I settled in to watch the game.

At Shabbat lunch prior to Super Bowl Sunday the meal was hosted by a professional sports newscaster. He said, personally, he would love for Peyton and the Broncos to win, but professionally, his bet was on the Panthers.

Wanting to be a polite and gracious guest, I refrained from countering his assertion.

“Are you serious?” I thought to myself. “Does this guy understand what is standing behind the Broncos and behind Peyton Manning?”

A family. A huge town of a family.