Year of the frogs

I think the Super Bowl jumped the shark back in 1995 (Super Bowl XXIX for those of you identifying sports with Roman numerology).

That was the year San Francisco became the first NFL team to win five Super Bowls, beating the San Diego Chargers 49-26 on the strength of six touchdown passes by quarterback Steve Young. I know all that only because I just looked it up on a recap site at NFL.com.

What has been imprinted in my consciousness about that game was not the passes or score. The memory that sticks is the sound of Bud, Weis and Er, the beer frogs who first hopped up out of the swamp that year. That's when the Super Bowl parties started focusing more on the commercials than the games. The space around the TV set actually got more crowded at half-time as the marginal fans wandered into the room. A few years later the Budweiser frogs were joined by chameleons Louie and Frankie and the hitman ferret. Then there were the Clydesdales.

All of this advertising pushed the games into nighttime primetime. It's probably better that the kids can't stay up so late on a school night, given that wardrobe malfunctions at the Super Bowl no longer have anything to do with chin straps or shoulder pads.

There is still a game, or course, but for the first time in 30 years, the crowd I have spent Super Sunday enjoying it with will be staying at their respective homes. Some, like me will be comfortably ensconced on our own couches, ready for bed in bathrobe and slippers, light beer and fat-free dip in easy reach, hoping to stay awake past half-time.