When future generations read the history of Super Hype XLIV, they'll ask one question: Who dat wearing dem flops?
In the old days, back when the Super Bowl was still a football game rather than A Microcosm of American Society, the greatest stroke of hype was filmed beside a Florida swimming pool. Quarterback Joe Willie Namath, a twinkle-eyed man of the night seeking a winter's day tan, scratched his hairy chest and guaranteed reporters that his upstart Jets would beat the favored Baltimore Colts from the established NFL.
Namath made good on his outlandish promise, which elevated supposedly second-class AFL teams to virtual equality and transformed the Super Bowl into a cultural necessity.
Flash to last week. The picture wobbles as the TV cameraman walks awkwardly through a crowded room while filming a player's foot. It's a meaty foot that hangs over the side of the flip-flop and slides gingerly through foot traffic.
Who dat? Dwight Freeney. Of course. The spinning, flailing, snorting pass rusher from the Indianapolis Colts. The 268-pound end who just might put a hurting on New Orleans quarterback Drew Brees if -- big if here -- the damaged ligaments in his right ankle can withstand the torque and twists.
Never have so many heard so much about an ankle based on so little information. The doubtful-questionable-conceivable analysis lasted all week. Coach Jim Caldwell, who perfected nebulous, evasive answers long before leaving Wake Forest, made the TV crawls during his final news conference Friday. He said Freeney's ankle was trending in the right direction.
If the Colts win tonight -- and they should, because Peyton Manning runs the offense -- Freeney can shuffle on up to Disney World and get a pedicure before dining at Emeril's Orlando.
No guarantee
Nobody in his right mind would guarantee a Colts victory. They are only five-point favorites, receiver Reggie Wayne strained his knee again and there's always the chance that some unknown Saint might pin the ball against his helmet for a miracle catch in the dying minutes, like the Giants' David Tyree against the unbeatable Patriots.
In some quarters -- especially the French -- even suggesting that the Saints might lose qualifies as blasphemy. The citizens used the team as a rallying pole in the dire months after Hurricane Katrina and recently rode the bandwagon to uplifting civic heights.
The Saints are media-ordained sentimental favorites -- and the latest example of how the Super Bowl operates as an American microcosm. The conditions seem reminiscent of last April, when media violinists tapped Michigan State the sentimental favorite at the Detroit Final Four because the Spartans represented an economically depressed state.
Only North Carolina's Roy Williams had enough gumption to fire back: "If you would tell me that if Michigan State wins, it's going to satisfy the nation's economy, then I'd say, ‘Hell, let's stay poor for a little while longer.' "
He got his wishes, both of them.
Some folks just wish the babbling bystanders would leave their social baggage on the curb. From the left, activists blasted CBS for running Tim Tebow's anti-abortion commercial. From the right, Sen. John McCain blasted the Census Bureau for spending $2.5 million of its $130 million census-awareness budget on a Super Bowl ad.
From the center of North Carolina, Public Policy Polling found Democrats heavily supporting the Saints and Republicans narrowly backing the Colts. Overall, sentiments broke 32 percent for New Orleans, 22 percent for Indy and 46 percent for Don't Care (which actually might mirror the national political mood).
So much for microcosms. America should probably just let Aaron Neville, the sweet voice on the original 1983 recording, conclude Super Hype XLIV by singing the big question: "Who dat say dey gonna beat dem Saints?"
Big Foot Freeney will answer -- or not answer -- by midnight.
lrawlings@wsjournal.com
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