Let's all complain about the Super Bowl

After my first hour in Kansas City last October, just a few minutes after leaving the airport, I fell in love with the World Series all over again. It's not that I didn't love the five World Series that have rolled through San Francisco in my lifetime; it's that I loved them as a fan. Once I was immersed in a city hosting a World Series that I didn't care about, I got to soak up the radiation without worrying about pitching matchups or designated hitters. The experience was fantastic.

It's a living, delightfully suffocating experience. The deeper you dig, the more you realize there's nothing like it. It shows up unexpectedly where you live. It's about you. It's about the people around you. It's about where you live, happening right there. It's unambiguously good. It's all anyone can talk about, unless they're talking about the plans they're making *around* it.

When the World Series comes to town, it's one of the only things in life that almost everyone agrees is a good thing. Try to think of another example of an unambiguously delightful experience for an entire region. It's almost impossible.

Earlier this week, I was thinking about going into San Francisco for something, and then I laughed because I forgot about the Super Bowl. I spent the rest of the day aggressively staying the hell away from San Francisco.

That's my Super Bowl experience so far.

The main difference, of course, is that the local sports team isn't involved. Of course that's the biggest difference. The World Series comes to a region, and it's about the region, wholly and completely. The Super Bowl comes to a region, and it's all about everyone else. If you're a hardy soul, you can attend the NFL Experience, or maybe even those wacky, garish galas. But unless you're a local squillionaire having fun -- someone who can afford to go to next year's Super Bowl on a whim, anyway -- the Super Bowl isn't something that floats into your life and kisses you on the lips before floating away, not like the World Series (or NBA Finals, or even the All-Star Game) does. No, the Super Bowl rummages through your fridge and chews with its mouth open while blocking your TV.

This isn't an extended think piece. I'm pretty much done. It just felt weird that the Super Bowl was going to come and go from the Bay Area without me having a single thought that wasn't "ugh." It would certainly be different if the Niners were playing, so maybe that's a little hypocritical. Or maybe it has more to do with my growing distaste for football that exists because of headlines like this ...

Joe Montana at 59: 'I can't really run or do much'

Mostly, though, I'm feeling broken, like a curmudgeon who will never enjoy anything again. Everyone's looking at San Francisco and the Bay Area, and it's filled with a bunch of neat crap that's going to leave in a couple days, and I'm like the old neighbor who throws out the baseballs kids hit over his fence.

So my real goal is this: Either I want to find solidarity with other annoyed people, or I want someone to make the case that Everyone Needs To Cram It, Because Super Bowl 50 Is Awesome. Maybe both.

It's an open morning Super Bowl thread, everyone. Complain, or complain about the complainers. Your choice.