Thoughts of a passive Super Bowl viewer
The night began as many of my Sunday nights do: in a groutfit eating a cookie from the Blue Room. I was on my way to a friend's house to watch the Super Bowl with a group of 10 girls and one boy. Note: the boy was only present as he is a significant other to one of the girls living in the house. I suppose I would define our group as a whole as "Pats fans." Serious emphasis on the quotes there. Our allegiance was more just that 80% of the people involved in our viewing party were from New England and it seemed appropriate. This game was the first game of the year that any of us (minus significant other maybe) had considered watching.
The players took to the field and we gathered around the TV. One of us pointed out Tom Brady, while I pointed at a bearded player and explained that he went to Brown. I was not totally sure if that was him, but I had seen something on Brown Bears Admirers about a bearded alum playing in the Superbowl and this man seemed to match the description. No one questioned me. Side note: his name is James Develin. While the ladies chilled in the living room, significant other was hard at work whipping up Deviled Eggs, and I felt as though serious gender norms were being shattered that night, but I digress.
Pre kickoff, there were some definite highlights. The Schulyer sisters from Hamilton performed. And the professional signer signed the National Anthem with so much rhythm and style that I think he will soon be picked up as a back-up dancer. Finally, I was in awe of the skill, or serious lack thereof, with which George Bush Sr flipped (plopped) the game starting coin.Once the game began and the Falcons started on a rampage which at the time seemed unstoppable, my interest greatly dwindled. My commitment to the Super Bowl remained true only because of the commercials and the promise of Gaga.
After an embarrassing first half for good ol' Tom, I, like pretty much everyone else (even you extreme Pats fan who will after the fact claim you never lost hope), had lost hope for a Patriots win. 28-3 seemed abysmal. But alas! Gaga had arrived on top of the stadium and I realized the future is now because her back-up dancers were drones. Throughout her performance, I remembered how many absolute bangers she has and I reminisced about "Just Dance"ing at Bar and Bat Mitzvahs.As the second half began, I became consumed with my Instagram feed and the influx of Super Bowl related memes. I felt sporty and in the know. The Patriots actually got a touch down in the third quarter, a cause for some "Woohoo"'s and "Oh okay that's good"'s. As the third quarter ended and I cracked opened my third seltzer, I couldn't have anticipated what was about to go down.
The fourth quarter began and I was kind of ready for the whole thing to be over. I had gotten my fix of professional football for the year, and then the Edelman catch happened, where the hand-eye coordination of a god and a seeming lack of gravity turned everything around. Suddenly my passion for football, the Patriots, and the beauty of the comeback erupted and I found myself standing up and saying things like "LETS GOOOO!!!" Why? I'm not totally sure, but part of me felt like a new person.With under a minute left in the game, I had probably said "no freaking way" upwards of 20 times, and Brady revealed himself to be a wizard, somehow finding Danny Amendola for a successful 2 point conversion, tying the game, and sending it into overtime for the first time in Super Bowl history. I felt a surge of pride.When the Pats sealed the deal, I was in awe of Tom Brady and his resilience. I also felt a bond with Gisele because ESPN showed her screaming into a selfie video that brought forth memories of many Saturday nights spent at Brown. This game transformed me from a passive bystander into a die-hard football enthusiast, even if it only lasted one night.Images via, via, via, and via