It’s the Super Bowl Press! This week we have an abundance of football stories, our favorite jokes, and what we’re cooking for the big game. But first, Free Press politics editor Mene Ukueberuwa welcomes the arrival of Super Bowl weekend:

This is the weekend when all stories lead to football. Once each year, the mammoth star of the Super Bowl dims all other sports, and swallows pop culture and politics besides.

For all the casual fans tuning in Sunday night, the jerseys might look familiar, but the names have all changed. The New England Patriots have returned to the summit sooner than expected after years at the top under Tom Brady and Bill Belichick. They’re now led by fresh faces: second-year quarterback Drake Maye and new coach Mike Vrabel, who won three rings as a linebacker during the Pats’ legendary run.

They’ll face the Seattle Seahawks, who have recaptured lost glory with a 14-3 record and a charge through the playoffs. No veterans there either—only a stellar young defensive lineup and Sam Darnold, their new-old QB.

If you happen to be a New York Jets fan, that last line may sting. Gang Green drafted Darnold in 2018, but he sputtered under the MetLife Stadium lights, playing three pitiful seasons in East Rutherford, before bouncing through several teams en route to Seattle. Free Press senior editor Joe Nocera explains why no matter who wins on Sunday, Jets fans will lose.

Fans of another long-suffering New York team will also tune in Sunday, but perhaps in higher spirits. The Buffalo Bills have never won a Super Bowl and have faced one tragedy after another along the way. But somehow their supporters take it all in stride. Carolyn D. Gorman explores what psychology has to say about resilient sports fans—and finds lessons that lead to a happier life.

Aside from New England or Seattle fans, the most anxious Super Bowl viewers will likely be those with more than pride on the line. As many as 70 million Americans are expected to bet on the game, and platforms like FanDuel and DraftKings have become inescapable on phone and TV screens. Heavy users risk their savings and peace of mind. But high school student Raphael Shrier describes how the distraction of betting ruins game day for kids like him.

—Mene Ukueberuwa

While you’re waiting for the big game, catch up on a few great (non-football) pieces we ran this week . . .

How should you spend the hours until the big game? We asked our reporter Gabe Kaminsky for his recommendations . . .

📚 Read . . . Great Jones Street by Don DeLillo. Because a) there is pretty much no scenario in which I land the Weekend Press “What Now?” spot and don’t recommend my favorite author. And b) if you recently had the misfortune (hey, or fortune, I’m not telling you how to live) of being trapped inside your home because of the infamous Winter Storm, this is a novel where you can project that memory of confinement—or blissful seclusion—onto a rock star holed up in an unfurnished apartment in Manhattan as he goes through an existential crisis. Look on the bright side: You could always be 26-year-old Bucky Wunderlick, the butt of a 1973 satire.

📺 Watch . . . The Secret Agent. I’m generally opposed to movies with subtitles, as were the two octogenarian gentlemen sitting next to me last week at Landmarkʼs Bethesda Row Cinema, and whispering (that is a generous verb) to each other for two hours and 40 minutes about their confusion. But this thriller, centered around the persecution of a professor during Brazil’s military dictatorship in the late ’70s, was a wild ride, gripping and violent and intense, toggling between morbid absurdity and comedy: In one scene, a severed human leg found in the belly of a dead shark reappears in a park at night and beats the shit out of those engaging in illegal sex acts. (According to director Kleber Mendonça Filho, the scene is actually based on a bit of urban folklore that was cooked up by a Brazilian journalist who was fed up with the government blocking him from reporting on the terror it was inflicting on locals for minor things like smoking pot.)

🍳Cook . . . Chicken wings. It’s Super Bowl weekend, after all. My plan is to bake this dry rub recipe and lug five pounds of wings to my friend Cole’s house. Ideally, this gets me back in his good graces after I ruffled feathers last year by bringing a store-bought container of buffalo wings and pawning them off as my own handiwork. (I fessed up out of unadulterated guilt, when they got one too many rave reviews, and I was fielding an unsustainable amount of questions about how I “made them.”)

Last but not least, feast your eyes on Snow Queen Mariah Carey performing at yesterday’s Milan Cortina Olympics opening ceremony, which you can catch up on here:

That’s all, folks! Have a great Super Bowl weekend.