Later this month, the NFL will announce the site of Super Bowl L, marking the 50th anniversary of the mega-sporting event. In the running to host are Seattle, San Francisco, Los Angeles, New Orleans, Arlington, Texas -- and, yes, Miami.
While Miami has always been an NFL favorite location for Super Bowls -- ten times to be exact -- recent political shenanigans have put the city's contention in doubt. Specifically, the Miami Dolphins' (mainly owner Stephen Ross') attempt at scamming $200 million to renovate privately owned Sun Life Stadium. It was sort of like wanting to get your house painted, making your neighbor pay for it, then trying to make him feel better by telling him that it gave a painter a job.
We'll keep our money out of a billionaire's pockets, but that doesn't mean that Miami should automatically lose out on a Super Bowl bid. Everyone already knows what makes us so great: sunshine, South Beach, record numbers of imported prostitutes, year round bikini-wearing availability. The other cities bidding for Super Bowl L don't even come close.
But this isn't something the NFL doesn't already know; it's why Miami is in the running for the Super Bowl year after year. So let's not talk up our lovely hometown, but take out the competition by shining a laser pointer on the other bidding cities' flaws like we're hazing a group of freshmen women trying to rush a Tri-Delt sorority.
Los Angeles
In what crazy world does a city without a football team even think they've earned the right to host a Super Bowl? While they're considering L.A. why not Tuscaloosa, Alabama, or Kalamazoo, Michigan? Why not London, Cairo, or Tokyo?
Plus, if history shows anything about Los Angeles' history with football, it's this: As soon as the game starts, the seats will either be empty because everyone will be too busy occupying bathroom mirrors (both for reflective and cocaine holding purposes) or it'll immediately be moved to St. Louis or Oakland.
Plus the "pretty crowd" factor will be even worse than a Miami Heat game. Except at least the American Airlines Arena gets filled with curvaceous Latina beauties, while a Super Bowl in L.A. would just be a bunch of flat-assed pornstars.
Arlington, Texas (Cowboys Stadium)
These guys just had a Super Bowl five years ago, and let's be honest, does anyone really want to hang out in Texas more than once a decade for a Super Bowl? Sure, privately funded $1 billion Cowboys Stadium should be be rewarded for not going to the government begging for cash help, unlike d-bag Stephen Ross. But giving Texas another Super Bowl would be rewarding an even bigger d-bag in Cowboys Owner Jerry Jones.
Let's be serious: Texas is one vast wasteland of Bible beating, bar-b-que chewing, overweight, gun-touting, right wing whackjobs. They're like that one uncle at every family gathering who's a little crazy, always has a good story, but whom everyone tries to avoid after his second glass of bourbon. At first it seems like a good idea to invite him to the party, but at the end of the night he's probably telling off Aunt Mildred and vomiting in Grammy Jane's urn.
New Orleans
Alright, Hurricane Katrina, we get it already. Seriously, how much can one town milk a tragedy? Miami had Andrew, Rita, Wilma, and even our own little bout with Katrina, but that doesn't mean we are going to use it as tool for sympathy every chance we get. Unless it'll get us a Super Bowl, that is. In which case, seriously, look at all the natural disasters Miami has had to deal with, and we're not even talking about Rick Scott and Marco Rubio.
We're kidding, of course. Please, everybody give to Red Cross, and seek out other ways to help the Lower Ninth Ward, which is still in tatters. But come on, we want Super Bowl L. We want it, we want it, we want it!
San Francisco
According to Wikipedia, San Francisco's soon to be opened Levi's Stadium is the other finalist for Super Bowl L. Unfortunately, San Francisco also holds Miami's biggest Super Bowl advantage: great weather. They also have a beautiful new stadium, so it's not looking good for South Florida getting hold of Super Bowl L.
So we'll offer San Francisco a deal, one we make with the full consent of South Beach, and particular Twist and Score. When this country finally pulls its head out of its ass, we concede our bid to be the home for the Same-Sex Marriage National Celebration. Sure, Miami may have its own fair amount of yearly Pride celebrations, but with festivals like the Folsom Street Fair, we think bowing out to San Francisco's expertise gives us the better side of the trade. Even though we will miss out on one hell of a fabulous celebration.
Seattle
Here's how a Super Bowl in Seattle would look: seats full of retro hipsters in flannel shirts, scruffy beards, and greasy hair. These millionaire fans, who are leftovers from the "dotcom" market boom of the late '90s, would be sipping lattes made from organic soy milk and kopi luwak coffee beans distributed by carbon neutral fair trade farmers from deep within the hills of Indonesian rain forests. Does that sound like football to you?
Plus, last time we checked, February in Seattle is cold, rainy, and overcast. Come on, NFL, you're not above using hot girls to sell your product, which is one of the biggest reasons you want to come to Miami. Just look at cheerleaders, and sideline reporters not named Linda Cohn. We know what you want, and it's the scantily clad women of South Florida.
We know you'll make the right choice.
--Ric Delgado
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