I love the Super Bowl.

I absolutely love it.

I love everything about it: The overdone commercials. The over-the-top halftime shows. The overhyped game.

I love the Super Bowl not in spite of its excess, but because of it.

Because for one strange, glorious, guacamole-soaked, chicken wing–stained, beer-drenched Sunday evening every year, America still agrees to sit down together and watch the same thing at the same time. In an age of niche streaming, algorithmic rabbit holes and personalized everything, the Super Bowl remains our last national gathering place; a protected cultural habitat that 130 million Americans willingly enter, even if they don’t know a nickel defense from a nickel beer.

In today’s polarized, politicized country, that matters.

A lot.

After all, we are no longer a country that watches anything together, not even the dying CBS Evening News. With apologies to Simon and Garfunkel: “Where have you gone, Walter Cronkite? A nation turns it’s lonely eyes to you — woo, woo, woo.”

Instead, we scroll alone. We binge watch alone. We argue in parallel realities, each of us convinced we’re seeing the “true” version of America while the other side is being fed corrupted, propaganda-driven lies. But on Super Bowl Sunday, the feeds pause, the ideological divide takes a timeout and for a few hours, the algorithm loses.

That is almost unheard of these days The Super Bowl doesn’t just remain as the most-watched television event in America; it’s routinely the most-watched television broadcast in the world, year after year, in any language, on any platform.

That alone makes it remarkable. But what makes it meaningful is why we watch.Yes, we watch for the game. We watch for the commercials. We watch for the halftime show. We watch for the gambling and prop bets. We watch for the national anthem (And, yes, I stand for the anthem — even if I’m in someone else’s living room balancing a plate of nachos and bean dip. … And, no, I won’t be watching the “alternative” halftime show — a divisive, destined-to-fail attempt headlined by throwback rocker/rapper Kid Rock.)

But, mainly, we watch because everybody else is watching, and we want to belong to something bigger than ourselves. Families and party hosts plan menus days in advance. Employers brace for the Monday-after MIAs. America consumes roughly 12.5 million pizzas and nearly 140 million pounds of avocados — most of them pulverized into guacamole — as if it’s our civic duty.

As for the game itself, most of us will pick a team even if we don’t really care who wins. This year’s game game gives us some juicy storylines, starting with the ghost of Super Bowl XLIX hovering over this matchup. It’s no secret that Malcolm Butler’s goal-line interception 15 years ago still haunts Seattle like the price of an Apple Crisp Oatmilk Frappuccino at the original Starbucks.

Then there’s Sam Darnold, who was once declared a draft bust and was football Twitter’s favorite punchline, but now has been resurrected in Seattle, throwing for over 4,000 yards and leading the Seahawks to the Super Bowl. Let’s be honest: America loves second chances almost as much as we love free refills.

On the other sideline, the New England Patriots are somehow back here again, trying to rekindle a dynasty that once felt immortal under Tom Brady. Only now it’s Drake Maye, the sophomore sensation who dragged New England from 4-13 to 14-3 during an MVP-worthy season.

Meanwhile, New England coach Mike Vrabel stands on the brink of history, with a chance to become the first person to win a Super Bowl as both a player and a head coach for the same franchise. Even all of us people who hated the evil empire of Brady-Bill Belichick can’t help but secretly respect this version of the Patriots.

And what’s really cool is that it’s not just us traditional football fans who will be engrossed in the Super Bowl. Believe it or not, 83% of Gen Z adults say they are interested in this year’s game — a remarkable percentage for the most fragmented, always-online generation of all. It’s one of the rare moments when their digital loneliness will subside because they aren’t binge-watching something after everyone else; they’re actually watching something WITH everyone else. Their group chats will light up with every Bad Bunny halftime song and their memes will instantly react to the latest “Jesus Gets Us” commercial.

Several years ago, the great sports writer Norman Chad wrote in TV Guide: “History of America, Part I (1776-1966): Declaration of Independence, Constitutional Convention, Louisiana Purchase, Civil War, Reconstruction, World War I, Great Depression, New Deal, World War II, TV, Cold War, civil-rights movement, Vietnam. History of America, Part II (1967-present): the Super Bowl era. The Super Bowl has become Main Street’s Mardi Gras.”

He’s right. It’s loud. It’s excessive. It’s ridiculous. It’s commercialized.

It’s America.

Sadly, on Monday, our social media feeds will re-fragment and our algorithms will once again feed us our partisan political propaganda. We’ll retreat back into our separate corners and alternate realities.

And that’s why I love the Super Bowl.

Not because it solves our society’s problems, but because it reminds us that, every once in a while, we can all remember what it feels like to come together as a country.

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