Professional sports are the epitome of American consumerism. Players demand extravagant, multi-million- dollar salaries and the NBA goes on hiatus because its players want even more money.

Giant billboards garnish the sidelines of ballparks and football stadiums telling us to drink this and buy that.

It’s absolutely impossible to get through an entire sporting event without being bombarded by hundreds of that demonic, grimace of a logo known as the Nike swoosh. And even the fans that are out there just watching the game are walking advertisements for the aforementioned company that screams at us to “Just Do It.”

Any way you slice it, American professional sports are all about the money.

Nothing epitomizes the corporate nature of sports more than the annual four-hour-commercial-disguised-as-a-football-game known as the Super Bowl.

Every year, corporations spend exorbitant chunks of money for a chance at coercing you into buying more and more of their products.

This year alone, advertisers spent an average of $1.6 million for each 30-second spot. That works out to be an insane $53,000 per second (Jan. 30, CNN.com).

That doesn’t count the product placement dollars gained from swooshes tattooed onto uniforms and helmets, and those large orange jugs of Gatorade along the sidelines quenching the players’ thirsts.

Despite all of the excessive hype and commercialism, there’s nothing more American than getting together with a few friends and heading over to the neighborhood bar to catch the big game.

So that is exactly what I did Sunday.

But this year was a bit different.

While the rest of Americans were watching Louie the Lizard and those infamous Budweiser frogs, and seeing Jerry Seinfeld endorsing American Express (I only know about this commercial from reading about it), some friends and I trekked over to the Hard Rock Cafe Madrid to watch the Super Bowl.

We saw it through a German cable station with British radio providing the commentary so that we could understand it.

The American guest-sportscaster said at one point that the Super Bowl was “the biggest sporting event in the world,” a statement which no one in the restaurant thought anything of but struck a chord with me.

Europeans could care less about American football. They have their own football. It’s what Americans call soccer.

I asked Tony, my host brother, about his opinion of American football, and he simply said it moves too slow.

I don’t blame him. Especially with all the time that is devoted to commercial breaks.

Nevertheless, Sunday night at the Hard Rock, I saw more Americans concentrated in one place than I think I’ve seen since I’ve been here.

We flocked to the Cafe collectively knowing that we would take over the entire place and turn it into our own turf.

Before the game we sang along to American music — classic selections like AC/DC’s “You Shook Me All Night Long,” and Bruce Springsteen’s “Born in the USA.”

We munched on buffalo wings, nachos and guzzled bottles of Bud.

When Cher came on to sing the National Anthem, everyone in the place was singing along or at least silently lip-synching the words.

We cheered for the teams we wanted to win (I usually pick the team with the coolest colors since the Chicago Bears never make it to the Super Bowl).

We shouted “TOUCHDOWN!” and “INTERCEPTION!” just like everybody always does during football games.

There wasn’t a single Spaniard in the entire restaurant, aside from the wait staff who all spoke clear, American English.

The only thing even remotely Spanish about watching the Super Bowl in Spain was Gloria Estefan’s half time show performance, during which all the Spanish waiters and waitresses got up on the tables and danced.

To put it simply, I forgot where I was for a few hours.

Sunday night at the Hard Rock Cafe, I wasn’t an American student studying abroad in Madrid.

I was a normal American college student, watching the Super Bowl in a bar, enjoying American food, drinking American beer and speaking American English with fellow Americans. All with one exception.

I didn’t have to put up with all the American commercialism. There was no overload of witty advertisements from the American corporate big boys. No Microsoft, no Coca- Cola, no Pepsi and no McDonald’s to provide me with memories of home.

Instead, I saw commercials for European car companies and the Deutsche Bank.

With that said, I have a confession to make. I actually missed the fancy, expensive commercials that usually accompany the Super Bowl.

As anti-corporate as I’d like to believe I am, the Super Bowl just wasn’t the same without the sound of those croaking Budweiser frogs.

But I guess I can always catch up on all the ads I missed when the Cubs win the World Series next fall.

After all, “Old Style is the official beer of the Chicago Cubs.”

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Conor Bezane is a sophomore in journalism and mass communication from Chicago.