Today my friends and I went shopping for chicken wings, potato skins, dip, chips-- things to sustain us through the Super Bowl later that day. The Super Bowl is a pillar in American culture-- this amalgamation of heterosexual fascination, commercial oversaturation, and popular music results in one of the biggest events in our country’s calendar year. It captures the attention of sports fans and non-believers alike. Some of the most iconic moments in popular culture have occurred here: “Nipplegate”, Destiny’s Child’s reunion, Lady Gaga’s halftime show just, like, in general. The Super Bowl is monumental, bigger than any showing of media in our modern day than I can think of-- or at least it seems that way on this particular Sunday each year.

Coming from New England where the Patriots are like the gods and the rest of us are mere mortals, football practically runs in our veins (along with Dunkin’s coffee and Sam Adams). Tom Brady could run for president and he’d win by a landslide. No matter how stupid Gronk proves himself to be we still revere him as something to aspire to. Gillette Stadium is practically Mecca for thousands of zealots across Maine, New Hampshire, Massachusetts, Vermont, Connecticut and Rhode Island. Someone like myself- who pays zero attention to the sport but has grown up in this environment is faced with a decision: to care or not to care.

During the regular season, football might not even exist for me. Is the game on? Who’s playing? It’s all white noise to me. It’s the same with every other sport really, but football, at least in New England, is talked about the most. I feel it trying the hardest to breach my bubble of attention. It’s almost in but not quite. The Super Bowl on the other hand pops the bubble and floods my window of attention every year, especially if the Patriots are playing. Suddenly, I feel the need to give into the hype, but why? I didn’t care about this stupid game. I had always found sports so frivolous and devoid of substance, so why did I all of a sudden find myself giving in?

Two words: Pats. Nation. Words I never thought I would utter aloud, much less type to be documented permanently. But they are the only words to summarize the feeling that New Englanders from all demographics get when the Patriots are up for discussion. This feeling, the one that makes grown men whimper when they even hear Tom Brady’s name, is contagious.

More important than this is the Patriot’s showing at the Super Bowl. At this point they’re expected to win, so the depression that blankets the entire Northeast the day after they lose to the Eagles is palpable. But even when they lose, they’re still the Patriots. The Eagles didn’t just win, they beat the Patriots. The Super Bowl and the Patriots are practically synonymous. Beyond this, the Super Bowl just seems so patriotic (notice the root of the word patriotic), so all-American, especially for New Englanders. Even though baseball is our country’s “pastime”, there’s something incredibly red, white, and blue about the wings and the game and the eye black and Jimmy Garoppolo.

One thing I’ve come to appreciate about the Super Bowl is that there’s something there for everyone. It’s come to be about more than just the game but the commercials and the halftime show and the internet have allowed it to become a behemoth encompassing so many forms of culture. The day after the game you can discuss it with anybody. It’s open season. Even if someone didn’t watch, you can talk about why they didn’t. It’s pervasive like no form of media we’re familiar with. The elderly, the young, the culturally illiterate. It’s all fair game.

Football might be just as big of a deal in other parts of the country, but for now all I know is New England where Bill Belichick is God, the playoffs is Lent, and the Super Bowl is Easter Sunday where we

know Gronk will rise on the third day in accordance with the Scriptures. And yes, this is coming from a nonbeliever.