This Super Bowl was a bit more exciting then watching your Aunt Edna knit

Well, they played a big football game Sunday. The Super Bowl. With a bunch of Roman numerals after it, so it had to be important

It was even televised.

Of course, I think they just do that so they can have plenty of breaks in the action to show all those supposedly Super (not?) commercials and have some musical artist such as Katy Perry have 6,742 people join them on onstage in an over-hyped lavish production.

Last night might have been The Greatest Super Bowl Every Played, a surreal and superlative melodrama with an astonishing and shocking twist in the ending.

When all was said and done, the Patriots edged the Seahawks 28-24 because of the improbable stupidity of Seattle coach Pete Carroll.

Down four points, Seattle had traveled 79 yards in 62 seconds and had one yard to go and three plays left along with one timeout to punch Marshawn Lynch, the baddest beast on the planet, in for the winning touchdown and their second straight Super Bowl win.

Instead, Seattle got way too cute and had Russell Wilson throw a slant to Ricardo Lockette. But an unknown rookie, Malcolm Butler, from West Alabama, which might as well be the Planet Mars when it comes to football obscurity, picked the pass off with uncanny perception for the most stunning Super Bowl finish of all time.

Of course, many folks didn’t embrace the Patriots’ remarkable victory because they perceive them to be the ultimate cheaters, consider Bill Belichick to be as warm and cuddly as Rushmore granite, and hate Tom Brady’s guts because he’s good looking, never ages, and his supermodel wife would cause cardiac arrest in a yak.

So they refuse to throw the Pats even a few dollops of acclaim and I get that. After all, rooting for New England is like rooting for a hedge fund.

But I have to give Brady and the Patriots some props.

Brady was incredibly clutch in the fourth quarter, leading the Pats back from a 10-point deficit in the fourth quarter by going 13 of 15 for 121 yards, 2 touchdowns, 0 interceptions, and a 139.9 passing rating in his last two possessions against the best defense in football.

That, my friends, was a pristine palette of passing precision and patience.

The Butler then saved Brady’s ass, which seemed to be redemptive karma to me.

Brady now is 4-2 in Super Bowls and he could have been 6-0 if the Giants hadn’t stunned him twice on are-you-freaking-kidding-me circus catches by Mario Manningham and David (Velcro Helmet) Tyree.

And it unbelievably almost transpired yet again Sunday night when Seattle’s Jermaine Kearse made a ridiculous 33-yard catch on his back after touching or deflecting it four different times (in his next life look for him to find work as a juggler in the circus) to set up what should have been the winning gimme putt before Carroll’s brain got the yips.

The shocked look on Brady’s face at that moment said it all. At that juncture he and the Patriots seemed more snake bitten than a guy swimming a mile in the Amazon.

But the fickle finger of fate, being unpredictable by its DNA, didn’t give them the finger this time.

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