As we all know, the Super Bowl is about much more than the game itself. One game of football alone doesn’t draw one billion viewers worldwide. As such, with the completion of Sunday’s game, there are so many things to talk about, so many titillating topics, shall we say, to address. And while the game is certainly bigger than one man, I may as well start with the man on everyone’s minds. So, without further ado, my Super Bowl thoughts on:

Tom Brady

Okay, he was great – again. And the Joe Montana comparisons are well deserved after the cool and collected manner he displayed in leading his team to two championships. But I hate the fact that I can no longer make fun of Brady without being accused of jealousy.

He’s 26, good-looking and a two-time Super Bowl MVP. I’m 21, somebody once told me I look like Screech and I was the two-time MVP of my youth group flag football league.

Of course I’d rather be him than me. That’s not jealousy. It’s common sense.

The broadcast

Look, there’s no other way to say it. Greg Gumbel looks like a chia head. Apparently nobody else has been mean enough to tell him, so I’m doing it here. You’re a great broadcaster, Greg, but please, how can we take you seriously when we’re wondering who does your seed patterns?

And speaking of Greg, don’t you just hate election years? After a lengthy hearing, the Federal Election Commission decided that the equal time rule does, in fact, apply to sporting events, meaning Bryant Gumbel will do play-by-play for the Pro Bowl.

No word yet on whether Katie Couric will do the color.

The commercials

Can you believe the amount of commercials for impotency drugs? First there was Viagra, then Levitra and now Cialis. Elderly men everywhere must be rejoicing.

In a related story, medical journals are reporting a dramatic increase in the amount of nighttime headaches experienced by elderly women. Go figure.

My vote for the best commercial went to the donkey who dreamed of being a Clydesdale. To be honest, that commercial touched me on a personal level. Figuratively speaking, I really identify with the donkey.
I’ve always felt like a Clydesdale inside, but no matter what I do or say, most people just look at me and think I’m an ass.

The halftime show

Clearly the unveiling of Janet Jackson’s right breast was inappropriate considering the family audience that watches the Super Bowl. But it’s not like she’s the first Jackson to show a private part to children around the world.

President Bush

Asked about his reaction to the Janet Jackson halftime scandal, Bush said, “I don’t want to admit it, but because this White House starts early, I missed it – again. Saw the first half, did not see the half time. I was preparing for the day and fell asleep.”

Wait a minute. So the man in charge of our country is falling asleep while preparing for tomorrow. What an appropriate metaphor.

And did you see his interview with Jim Nantz before the game? Bush stumbled over every answer, and the questions were about football, not weapons of mass destruction. Is it just me, or did it seem like Nantz is more qualified to be president? Maybe he should run for the Democratic nomination. I can just see the campaign slogan now: “A tradition unlike any other … the presidency.”

New England fans

Winning the Super Bowl after the Red Sox blew the ALCS must be like dating the second hottest girl in school. Meanwhile, the prom queen keeps flirting with you and then nailing your nemesis (26 times, to be exact). Sure, you’re happy with your girlfriend, but man, if you could just score with the prom queen once.

Although I must admit, I’m a Brewers fan, which means I’m the captain of the chess team in this analogy.

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So there you have it – the highlights of my brain from Sunday. There were other thoughts, of course, but I doubt anyone’s interested in my analysis of the Patriots’ use of the 3-4 defense to stop an effective running game.

My final thought, however, remains stuck on the terrible and desolate month of February, when our only professional sports entertainment comes from the NBA and NHL regular seasons, the sports where everyone is going to make the playoffs anyway.

On the bright side, there are only 60 days until opening day for baseball. Or, to put it another way, 61 days until the Brewers are eliminated from playoff contention. I can’t wait.