Cerblogus

Indianapolis is all aflutter with pride because their beloved Colts are finally going to the Super Bowl. I will preface this post with a declaration of my hatred for the Indy Colts — when I was 14 my family moved to York, PA (45 minutes from Baltimore) the same year the elder Ursey moved the Colts out of Baltimore under cover of night. All those years ago I swore that I would never root for the Colts until all the Urseys were cold in the ground. If there’s one thing I can do it’s hold a grudge. Fate delivered me to Indiana 15 years ago and I’ve had to endure the god damn Colts and their johnny-come-lately fans ever since.

So last night after the game ended I switched to a different network to avoid the inevitable dopey celebrations and interviews. But while watching an unrelated program, every commercial break consisted of Colts updates, first of fan reaction to the win, then footage of fans pouring out of the dome, then the press conference, then more fans on the street. OK, I get it, the Colts won. How many times do you need to break in to tell me?

Then I wondered… who is paying off the advertisers who had their commercials bumped so we can watch more blue numbnuts dance in the streets as if they personally picked off that final Tom Brady pass? I’m guessing there’s an agreement that the local news can preempt advertising for “breaking news” but at what point does a sports victory stop being breaking news?

Now I’ll have to endure a couple more weeks of Colts cheerleading disguised as the nightly news. “Our breaking story tonight, Peyton Manning had spaghetti for dinner!” “Let’s check the weather… it should be warm in Miami next week when the Colts…” “Now for sports… the Colts blah, blah, blah.”

Of course if Peyton throws three interceptions and the Colts lose to the Bears, I’ll relish every weeping minute of Colts coverage.