Bowl-a-rama

Well, five days into the New Year and the news has ratcheted up with morbidity. Ariel Sharon has had a nearly fatal stroke and at least his political career is dead, which is a shame because he had actually transformed from a hard-ass to a moderate. Today's body count from Iraq included 130 more, most of whom were Shiites (or as Bush would call them, Shitties) attending a funeral. Then there were the twelve coal miners in West Virginia who were declared dead, then alive, then dead, then alive, then dead.

But it is too early early in this year's calendar to dwell on fatalities; I'm sure the year will provide enough tragedy to go around. I am still recovering from my New Year's hangover--or more precisely my Nyquil hangover, since I fought a stubborn virus that lasted through all the festivities. This provided me with more time to laze in my easy chair and partake in the extended novelty of hi-def TV. I was even motivated to revisit a seasonal pastime from my youth, the indulging in post-New Year Bowl games.

In the 50s, the New Year traditions were regular and reliably comforting. With the heat turned way up I'd cocoon in the den like any red-blooded Northeasterner and watch the Rose Parade at 11 AM (8 AM Pacific), followed by glimpses of the Sugar Bowl, Cotton Ball, Rose Bowl and the nighttime extravaganza from Miami, the Orange Bowl. There was no BCS Championship follow-up, no Fiesta Bowl, and practically no other post-season college games except the aberrant Gator Bowl, which had the audacity to run before the turn of the year. With the games pitting top-flight conference champions the match-ups were always exciting, and I even managed to muster up an occasional rooting interest.

The evolution of the Bowl games from major sporting spectacles to a panoply of seasonal afterthoughts mirrors much of the American sporting scene over the last fifty years. They have expanded as prodigiously as the major pro sports leagues. Therer used to be 16 Major League baseball franchises; now there are 30. The NFL had twelve franchises back then; now 32 and counting. The NBA and NHL have blossomed even more radically. I used to be able to recall the nickname of any pro franchise; now I can't discern from among the Predators and the Panthers and the Senators and the Cougars and the Heat and whatever the hell the Washington Bullets became.

But it's not the proliferation that is soregrettable, as the intense commercialization of the teams and their venues. I can recall when ballparks were named after the teams they hosted or the people responsible for their construction. Now every stadum is a Minute Maid or PacBell. Likewise, and even more heinously, the college bowl games, so attractively labeled by various fruits and flowers, now have to bear the titles of their corporate sponsors. The Fed-Ex Orange Bowl! The Tostito Fiesta Bowl! (okay, that makes a little thematic sense). I understand how corporate funding has come to play an essential role in underwriting sports events and arenas, but it sure undermines the Amateur Ideal.

So I give credit to Citigroup (perhaps the only time I'll ever do so) for allowing the Rose Bowl--the Granddaddy of all bowl games, the commentators used to declare--to retain its moniker relatively unscathed. Okay, they did officially call it the Rose Bowl Presented by Citi. But this has a prettier cachet than either the Fed Ex Orange Bowl or the Los Angeles Angels of Anaheim (and would you believe, that controversy will go on longer than the Iraq War).

Meanwhile, there was a game, with the National Championship on the line, and enough pre-kickoff hype to challenge the Super Bowl. I'd have enjoyed the sharp and vivid picture even without an accompanying contest of rare excitement and spirit. The Texas Longhorns came from twelve points behind with four minutes left to defeat the formerly undefeated National Champion USC Trojans. (Or was it the Enron Texas Longhorns vs. the Lucasfilm USC Trojans?) An amazing clutch performance by Texas quarterback Vince Young outshone the aggressive play of USC Heisman Trophy winners Matt Leinart and Reggie Bush. All three of them, in fact, could probably sponsor a bowl game or two in the near future with the pro contracts they have ensured themselves.

The USC disappointment shared the LA Times front page today with the Sharon situation. Had USC won, the Sharon item may have been relegated to Page Two. There is a certain gloominess regarding the locals' defeat, but that has been mitigated by today's glorious 80-degree weather and clear bright blue January sky that makes the day glisten as though I'd set it to the "vivid" color level on my hi-def. It's not much to go on, but for me it'll do. It's too early in the year to get depressed.