Superbowl Sunday has arrived! The culmination of seventeen glorious weeks of watching the pigskin, followed by Playoffs and now it’s time for the Big Show!! Even the groundhogs get a reprieve this year and get to watch the game in the comfort of their burrows without being dragged into the daylight until tomorrow.
Ah, Groundhog Day – that magical morning when we put our faith in an abundantly nourished, rotund mass of fur to predict the arrival of Spring. This over-sized rodent is depended upon to prognosticate to the best of his ability and tell us, by virtue of seeing or not seeing his shadow, when we can expect the return of Spring.
Last year my post about this auspicious day focused more on the history and process of Willie’s predilection for weather. This year I thought I would look at things from the perspective of poor Wiarton Willie (the Canadian version of Punxsutawney Phil). First, he is rudely roused from his winter-long slumber to come out of his burrow and predict something even educated meteorologists cannot agree on. Second, when he finally does make his appearance, he is greeted by a bemused but somewhat urgent crowd as they try to keep themselves warm enough to endure the period-costumed pomp and circumstance.
I am inclined to guess that Willie’s urge to get back into his cave has nothing to do with seeing his shadow. I don’t know about you but, if I awoke to large crowd focused solely on me, I would be in one Hell of a hurry to bury myself back under my nest of blankets, shadow or not. I feel somewhat sorry for Willie. After being forced from his snug home out into an artic-like morning, the New England Patriots are probably not the only ones with deflated balls.
Given the success rate of these whiskered weather forecasters, the only prediction I would really take to heart is perhaps Willie’s prophecy about Superbowl 49. Enjoy the game Willie and good luck with the madding crowd on Monday!