
Watching the Superbowl: Deflated Balls and Domestic Violence
There was a very special commercial sponsored by the NFL during the Superbowl XLIX. It was a public service announcement against domestic violence. It was a pretty chilling spot and it was very effective too. Only thing is, not that many people saw it.
It aired right before the halftime show, immediately following Seattle’s touchdown with 2 seconds left in the second quarter that left everyone I was watching the game with screaming for joy or in disgust, depending on which team they were rooting for.
But I saw it.
I even heard it, moving close to the television making sure not to miss a word. I didn’t get the full effect until later when I viewed it again on YouTube – the controlled voice of a woman pretending to order a pizza while calling 911 – the physical evidence of a violent rampage in the house, furniture overturned, items strewn. The dispatcher realizes that the woman is in trouble and tells her an officer is on the way. The commercial ends with the following graphic:
Before viewers could have a chance to process what we’d just seen, a new graphic appeared on the screen – a cartoon of a blue face on a ball ( get it? blue ball??) which says in a very snide and snarky way, “I heard that guy’s BALLS were deflated!”
But hey. At least their balls aren’t deflated.
And if people saw those pre-halftime show commercials at all, I would bet that more remember the snarky blue ball.
And if they saw it, they probably didn’t hear it.
But who hears about domestic violence anyway, unless someone is killed like Nicole Simpson, or caught on tape being clocked in the head by her future husband like Janay Rice.

It fact it wasn’t until last night, almost fifty years after my father pummeled me because I had gotten “mouthy” with him did I see myself as a victim of domestic violence.
I don’t even know how to tell this story right now. I’ve always told it a particular way, one that made sense for me — one where I stood up to my father – a small dyspeptic man who had left my mother for another woman, abandoned his three children and went to court to cut his child support payments – but who still felt he had the right to “discipline” his fourteen year old daughter because she’s become “too big for her britches.” And sexual. That too.
Most of the time nobody even knows and much of the time, when I was growing up, at least, it wasn’t even considered unusual.
I don’t even know how to tell this story right now. I’ve always told it a particular way, one that made sense for me — one where I stood up to my father – a small dyspeptic man who had left my mother for another woman, abandoned his three children and went to court to cut his child support payments – but who still felt he had the right to “discipline” his fourteen year old daughter because she’s become “too big for her britches.” And sexual. That too.
Seems I knew more than I realized at age fourteen.
My poor father. Trying so very hard to live up to the expectations of being a man.