Watching an event like the Super Bowl with other people is so much better than watching it alone; you have to be able to bounce reactions and commentary and moments off someone else. I was watching with a family member and, in the fourth quarter, also talking to a friend on the phone. With that kind of support system, it's easier to watch Antwan Randle El throw the game-breaking touchdown pass to Hines Ward and them make with the observation that Marcus Trufant, the last Seahawks player in the Ward's general vicinity, was the second Seattle defensive back to get his pants pulled down during the game.

As we heard from sideline reporter Suzy Kolber in arguably the most intrusive in-game report in Super Bowl history, in the first quarter Marquand Manuel had injured his groin, and staffers had to surround him and hold up towels to shield his pants being lowered so his groin could be taped. First thought? That's good color, but I could have lived without that much detail. Still, not a bad report. Her halftime report was even better: the booth cut to her just as Mike Holmgren was airing out the officials as they left the field. She had time for one question, and it was the right one: what were you talking to them about? He told her, the call on Ben Roethlisberger's touchdown.

Speaking of clothing, do we know exactly what Mick Jagger reached down, picked up and threw off stage during the halftime show, and do we know what was at Keith Richards' feet during his solo during "Satisfaction''? They looked similar to each other, they looked like garments, they didn't look like outergarments. A quick check of reports from the halftime show don't indicate what they were, but they do tell us that ABC had them on a five-second delay, and that it came in handy when it bleeped a couple of Mick's lyrics. They wouldn't have needed one for Stevie Wonder, I bet.

Of course, the whole Motown pre-game show lasted about five seconds, and for three of those seconds, the mikes didn't work. Glad the NFL paid proper homage, like they promised. To be clear, though, the point of the column in this morning's paper about the NFL's snub of Motown wasn't to put down the Rolling Stones. Any other year, they'd be the ideal halftime pick. Just not this year.

Back to Roethlisberger: it really had to have been the Steelers' year, considering they won even though he threw possibly the ugliest interception in many a Super Bowl - the suggestion from my man on the phone was that it was the worst since Joe Theismann's Rocket Screen in 1984. The Seahawks looked ready to take over after that pick down at the goal line. They even got a touchdown from Jerramy Stevens, who until then had proven what Joey Porter said about was wrong; there was nothing "soft'' about him, particularly his hands.

But the air went out of the Seahawks' balloon immediately after. In fact, Matt Hasselbeck quickly challenged Roethlisberger and Theismann with that horrendous pick on Seattle's last real chance at scoring. And apparently in six weeks of training camp, 17 weeks of the regular season, three weeks of the playoffs and two weeks preparing for the Super Bowl, the Seahawks never worked on end-of-half or end-of-game clock management.

It was the least efficient of the Steelers' postseason games, and Seattle, the dominant team in the NFC all season, still wasn't up to the task.

Selecting Ward as the MVP was a good choice, and it had to be a tough one, because no one player stood out enough to make it a no-brainer.

Your guess is as good as mine on the best commercial; it all comes down to individual taste. I'd pick the Sprint commercial with the couch catching on fire, but only because I'm a big Benny Hill fan. Second is the Burger King commercial early on, for being so surreal. They get extra points because you knew what product they were advertising, which is never a given, especially when companies try to get creative on Super Sunday. Least favorite: the Gillette spots, simply because the idea of a razor with five blades scares the mess out of me. Jake Plummer wouldn't even need a razor with five blades.

Haven't heard about any civic unrest in Pittsburgh yet. But the night is young.