Understanding the Super Bowl with Snowflake the Dolphin

Maybe it's because, as my dear friend Michael once told me, no matter where I had been born in the world, I still would have ended up more British than tea and crumpets, or perhaps it's because my passion for sports goes little further than the occasional race around Bowser's Castle in Mario Kart, but I simply cannot comprehend the ferverous excitiement that is currently sweeping the globe in preparation for this weekend's Super Bowl.

I will willingly admit that my understanding of American Football (I am begrudged to call it simply "football", not least for my years spent having to teach Japanese children to call proper football "soccer") stems mainly from a combination of Ace Ventura, Glee and Kim Possible (go mad dogs!) and as such I have ascertained the rules to be as follows;

1) Laces must be "out" lest transvestitism should surface in unstable players.

2) If the opposing team looks likely to win, the best tactic is to perform a dance number to Beyoncé's "Single Ladies"

And

3) The only way to get ahead in American high school is to be dating a member of the team.

In all honesty, if these are the rules to follow, I must say it sounds like the kind of game I would be all for. Add to that the copious amount of cushioning clearly missing from the rather more rough-and-tumble sport of rugby, and frankly I could roll with it. Add to that the fact that there's a team named after a Family Guy character and you can sign me up with the Cleveland Browns right now!

Obviously that last comment was in jest. I don't really want to sign up.

What I really don't understand however, is why over the last few years, the entire world seems to have gone doolally for this Americanised phenomenon. Once upon a time, the English went mad for the footie, India the cricket, and Wales for rugger. Of late however every network seems to be pushing their "exclusive" coverage of the Super Bowl, and we, like the sheep that execs assume us to be, inevitably follow. 

So somebody tell me (though probably first you should explain the actual rules) why I should be excited by this utterly un-British monstrosity, and maybe I'll grab myself a Coors Lite and join in the festivities. Until then, I'll find something else to be putting a ring on.