Conan, what is best in life?

The focus last week on Super Bowl ads meant that I spared nary a note for the game itself. For the most part the omission is perfectly excusable. This isn’t a sports column, after all. And even if it was, I still shouldn’t be covering football. I don’t know anything about it, or at least not much. The game was close. A lot of bookies lost money. Fans in New York were happy. Fans in Boston were not. That’s six of one, half a dozen of the other, done and done as far as I’m concerned.

The ads sucked (covered that last time). Even the halftime show sucked. It led off with a lighting-effects guitar approaching a lighting-effects heart, but someone in the booth must have noticed the obvious sexual connotation just in time to cut to a different shot before the consummating moment. Then out comes the decaying corpse of Tom Petty to belt out crowd-pleasers until it’s time once again for the players to take the field.

Given the lackluster nature of the whole affair, the last thing we should want to do is prolong the pageant. However, the following day a new Bowl marketing opportunity occurred to me. The game is always followed by a victory parade a day or two later in the city of the team that just took the trophy. Outside the metro area, however, these don’t amount to much. Some video of the players riding around in the backs of convertibles or perhaps a hastily-assembled float of some kind.

I think that’s squandering the chance for another massive media spectacle. Sure, the victory parade is a more limited draw. Somewhere around half the people who watched the game aren’t going to be in the mood to celebrate. And these things usually take place during the day, which further limits the audience.

Though this might not seem like a winner at first, I think the ancient Romans have a thing or two to teach us about how to make this work. For starters, give everyone the day off so it won’t matter when it’s televised. Add a musical guest or two, perhaps someone with ties to the winning team or its city.

But above all, add the losing team to the mix. Make them march solemnly before the chariots of the victors, heads hung in shame. Shackles are optional. Then behind the winners come the wives, girlfriends and/or road skank of the losing team. Turn the music down just enough that as they pass we can all hear their lamentations.

And if it’s in New York, maybe we could get Macy’s to sponsor it.