Groundhog Day has come and gone, and on this, the morning after, we awake in yawns, outrage, joy, despair, bewilderment, indifference, contempt and promises to ourselves that next Super Bowl Sunday will be different. Next year we won't be disappointed. But next year never changes Superbowl Sunday. It's the same old same old. The Roman numerals may change, the teams and host city may be different, the game itself may actually not suck, but in the end it seems like we've lived this day before. And a year from now we'll hardly recall who played. Quick now, who was the runner up in last year's Superbowl?

See what I mean? It's all Louie Louie. A song we've heard a thousand times and still can't remember the words. If you watch the Super Bowl at a party or a sports bar, you end up missing huge chunks of the game and not even noticing. You'll also miss that TV commercial everbody is talking about the next day. If you're watching at home with family, chances are there will actually be someone who enjoyed the halftime show, but unless there's a stray nipple exposed, the mega-hyped halftime spectacular will be as forgettable as the game. Other than Janet Jackson's wardrobe malfunction, can you remember particulars from any recent Super Bowl half time shows?

The big game officially turned extra large last February with Super Bowl XL, but it's been suffering from middle aged spread for years. It's all soft in the middle, like most of the people watching. What should be a tense and gripping championship football game ends up being background noise at a cocktail party. The bloated televised event has become a spent cliche. Anytime the commercials become the most anticipated parts of an annual broadcast, you know that the national attention span is enjoying a senior moment. This won't hurt, did it? Super Bowl Sunday used to be a holy day of obligation for true NFL fans, but it's no more sacred today than St. Patrick's Day is to bar-hopping amatuer drinkers. Maybe it would be different if we lived in a city that had actually won a Super Bowl. Would it matter to us? Is the pope. . .German? Yeah, it would matter. Two visits in 41 years hardly qualifies the Eagles for frequent flyer miles to Super Bowl destination cities. And maybe the dreary sameness of Super Bowl Sunday is as much an act of emotional self preservation. Our football season ends when the Eagles do. After that it's just going through the motions.