I may not watch the Super Bowl this year.

The truth of the matter is I just don’t care that much about the game. The Patriots and the Giants are two of my least favorite teams ever. Add to that the fact that I can just watch the commercials on YouTube, and I’m not sure what the point would be of watching it.

I haven’t had — or missed — television since early October. I have high speed internet and Netflix. I haven’t had a TV show I felt I needed to watch every week since 2009. So the primary reasons for my satelite dish have always been sports — and Shark Week.

I didn’t watch the NHL All-Star Game this year, nor did I watch the NFL Pro Bowl. I feel like I should be upset about those revelations. But I’m not. I’ve seen but one Sabres game since the squabble between Time Warner and MSG began. That would bother me more if the Sabres were playing better. But they’re not — and I’m really not missing it all.

The entire planet almost missed out on the whole NBA season. In other parts of the country that’s a much bigger deal than it is here, although I like basketball, thanks — oddly enough — to two ex-girlfriends.
What I don’t like, however, are whiny millionaires, be they of the stock broker or athletic variety. The more I see sports contracts explode and the more often pro sports seasons are put in jeopardy by disputes over ownership of the pie, the less inclined I am to want to watch.

That said, I’m not boycotting the Super Bowl. I may watch it. Or not. I’m just very blase about the whole ordeal.

I went to church this week. My church. The church I used to go to when I lived in Lockport before. It was nice. The welcome was warm and the people — as always — were very friendly. I’ll be back.

Groundhog Day is Thursday. I’ve always liked Groundhog Day. I don’t care if it’s an early end to winter or if it goes another six weeks, personally. I am, however, reminded of the family vacation we took to Punxsutawney a few years ago to see Phil and friends. I was the only one that liked it. But I liked it enough for all four of us.

Groundhog Day means it’s February. Which means we somehow got through January. That’s absolutely astonishing in that I feel like it hasn’t hardly been winter yet this year — and here it is encroaching upon spring.

We did have some great snowball making snow on Sunday. US&J Sports Editor John D’Onofrio and I stood outside throwing snowballs at a sign. Maybe if I could have hit that stupid sign I’d care more about football. Or maybe if I cared more about football, I would have hit the sign. Or something.

But, hey, how can I be expected to throw snowballs and care about the Super Bowl. I have pink checks.