During my term abroad in Spain, I have been forced to make several concessions.
I've accepted the fact that slow internet connections will often prevent me from getting my daily YouTube fix. I understand there aren't many black people in my city, so it's considered socially acceptable to assume that I'm a basketball player.
While I generally have no problem with these differences, there are a few things I can't give up. Maybe I've been brainwashed from years of subliminal TV advertising, but I cannot give up eating McDonald's at least once a week. I also cannot give up watching football.
I needed to watch the Super Bowl, the mother of all sporting events, live. I didn't care that football in Spain is about as popular as a cold sore I wanted the bone crushing hits back in my life.
After a week of searching I discovered that three local bars would be broadcasting the event. It baffles me that a town of approximately 200,000 people would only have the game on at three locations this seems as nonsensical as sending Justin Bieber to an all-girls middle school and only selling 20 tickets to the concert.
Expecting chaos and excitement, I selected the closest bar and prayed that the poster advertising the game wasn't some sort of cruel practical joke to piss off all the Americans in town. With the time difference, the game started at around 12:30 a.m. local time. Although I was recovering from a long weekend in Barcelona, I grabbed a can of Red Bull and rallied.
I stepped into the bar and was greeted by a friendly scene. It was packed, but not in an uncomfortable way it reminded me of a popular sports bar in the United States during Monday Night Football. Standing room only. Hot, humid, sweaty atmosphere. Screaming and chanting men. It was football night in Spain.
Unfortunately, the bro-like atmosphere was the only aspect of the night that felt faintly American. As soon as I settled into my spot with a Dartmouth friend, John Renehan '13, and one of my Spanish bros, Jesu I noticed that the game was broadcast in Spanish.
Watching a football game with Spanish commentators is sort of like playing pong with Busch Light instead of Keystone. You enjoy the game so you're not going to let a different beer deter you from playing, but every bitter sip of the bottom-barrel beer reminds you of the "always smooth" alternative.
I was sour and longed for a real football experience with real American commentators, but was forced to settle. As I was about to enjoy the experience, I realized that the international broadcast didn't have any commercials at all. For any other event, I would have been ecstatic, but Super Bowl commercials are sacred. Instead of laughing hysterically at the latest Doritos ad, I was stuck watching a live feed of the Cowboy Stadium jumbotron (which is freaking huge) and listening to Spanish gibberish.
Even worse, there wasn't any snack food in sight. No hot wings, no chips, no dip. I would have been down for the count if the bartender hadn't given my friends and me a half-burned plate of popcorn out of sympathy. He liked the Steelers gear I was wearing so we quickly became friends.
I devoured my snack and found my second wind. I was ready for kickoff.
Surprisingly, there were a fair number of native Spaniards at the bar for the game. I'm not sure if the they understood the sport but they were excited to watch. Jesu even recorded the national anthem on his cell phone because he thought it was exciting to see the Americans sing.
Watching a football game in a room filled with Spaniards is an interesting phenomenon. I'm not quite sure what team they were rooting for, but they burst into song whenever something exciting happened. Sometimes it was a soccer song, while other times they chanted about rugby. Sometimes I joined in with them. I had no idea what I was saying but I was caught up in the moment.
The highlight of the international experience, however, occurred during the halftime show. As soon as the Black Eyed Peas descended onto the stage, half the room lit up (the other half were not fans of the show). Although I'm sure that most of them didn't speak English, they enthusiastically sang the words to every song.
The Black Eyed Peas translate to an international audience just as well as the Super Bowl does, apparently.
