The time after the Super Bowl is over and before bed, dirty like dishwater, with the too-bright lights and all our heads clouded drunk, when the post-game interviews fade into ads and then the requisite, over-hyped network premiere, when the guests disperse to put their coats on, linger ten minutes more, and then leave for good. It's like the doldrums in the middle of the second quarter, when you're not sure where you are, whether you're watching a football game, and whether you need to drink more beer or take a piss.

This was an incredible Super Bowl, one to redeem many others, and to justify all the attendant dreariness.