Time for Moore: Bottomless bowls

Jane Turpin Moore.jpg

Most things for which bowls are the preferred delivery method are terrific: savory soup, Lucky Charms, popcorn, Ben & Jerry’s Cherry Garcia ice cream, ramen noodles, Kraft macaroni and cheese — yum.

But whose bright idea was it to serve up football in a bowl — and, pray tell, what exactly does that even mean?

Honestly, the seemingly infinite list of college bowl games appears to be a thinly veiled excuse for football aficionados to scarf wings, nachos, pizza and Coronas while avoiding household chores, snow removal and/or personal fitness agendas over the course of several weekends.

My dear husband, a knowledgeable sports nut and avowed football fan, tells me that football “bowl” games have a long and storied history.

“Back when we were kids,” he patiently explained in a gentle yet authoritative tone, “there were fewer bowls — like the Rose Bowl, the Cotton Bowl and the Sugar Bowl.


“They took place in certain cities or regions and were designed in part to promote agricultural products produced in those areas.”

OK, that makes some sense. A spot of research revealed that the Rose Bowl debuted in Pasadena, Calif., in 1930, closely followed by the Sugar Bowl in New Orleans (1935), the Sun Bowl in El Paso, Texas (1936) and the Cotton Bowl in the Dallas-Fort Worth area (1937).

The Super Bowl itself wasn’t named for a “bowl” at all, I learned, but for the popular ’60s toy the Super Ball, which Kansas City Chiefs’ owner Lamar Hunt called to mind when casting about for a catchier name for the annual professional football championship.

But as someone who (gasp!) doesn’t build her winter weekends around football schedules, I was somewhat surprised when the aforementioned husband tuned in to yet ANOTHER football game.

“I thought the bowl games were over and only the Super Bowl was left,” I commented hopefully (and not too judgmentally).

But no.

In truth, my highest interest in football is to pray for a team win that favors the largest number of fans surrounding me; I’d rather have them happy than grumpy, because there’s little worse than enduring the scowls and yowls of the disgruntled.

Despite my relative indifference, I can lay claim to attendance at a bowl game. When our high school band traveled to Florida for New Year’s 2015, we followed and witnessed the Outback Bowl — although few game details remain distinct to me.


Here we are in 2020, and the list of football “bowls” is increasingly lengthy; there’s the Gator Bowl, the Holiday Bowl, the Liberty Bowl, the Camping World Bowl ( really?), the Fiesta Bowl, the Chick-fil-A Peach Bowl, the Music City Bowl, the Pinstripe Bowl, the Holiday Bowl, the Redbox Bowl and more. It’s utterly shocking there isn’t yet an Edy’s Ice Cream Bowl or a Lysol Toilet Bowl — or maybe I’ve missed those?

Recently endowed with a new Kwik Trip smartphone app that enables one to track visits en route to earning “rewards” like a free cup of coffee (virtually guaranteeing the need for another Kwik Trip stop roughly 90 minutes down the road), I was the recipient on Jan. 19 of an email proclaiming, “You could win tickets to the Cheez-It-Bowl!”

Laughing, I quoted the line to my spouse, thinking it a mere play on words meant to entice a purchase of a box of crackers.

“Uh, no, honey, there actually is a Cheez-It Bowl,” he enlightened ignorant me.

And so there is — at Chase Field in Phoenix, Ariz., late next December. Note: Tickets are on sale NOW via the Cheez-It Bowl’s website.

While I might fill my bowl with some artificially colored snack crackers, don’t look for me at the game.

Another football bowl? Not a fan.


Check out Time for Moore, Jane Turpin Moore’s blog, at

What To Read Next
Tom Goehle, son of legendary coach Hugo Goehle, was once a star athlete at Hills-Beaver Creek High School. Now he gives back through coaching and his involvement in Fellowship of Christian Athletes.
"Church worship now competes with everything from professional sports to kids activities to household chores. ... we can either have a frank conversation about what church can be, or we can continue to watch the pews empty in cherished houses of worship across the country."
When Katie Pinke directed her daughter to a beef expert in preparation for her speech meet, it made her think about the need for trusted ag sources of information.
A lesser teacher than Tim McConnell would probably have put me in the back row and told me to lip-sync.