I had moved into my first apartment in the city. It was a Victorion in the Sunset with an excellent group of artsy folks. The whole city seemed to be feeling extra "hipper than thou" leading into the game. With Jerry Rice and Joe Montana at the helm, how can we lose to that Stanford Cardinal, John Elway? He was that rich kid who fell victim to this awesomeness!
We were all so film student blasé nouveau when this game was on. Wild Billy, my adopted kid brother, came out to the city and we drank a bunch of beer on my newly legalized ID. Neither of us were, at this time, big fans of the of the sport, but hey let’s kick some beers mellow style. It was a blow out, larger than anyone expected. We figured everyone had tuned out by halftime.
Honest to God, we thought no one cared. When the game was over, the city was on fire. The Castro was throwing pink rolls of toilet paper into the Muni Lines just to watch them explode in fireballs. North Beach seemed to to be the hub so we drove on down.
I had never been part of a larger celebratory mass of humanity. Elbow to elbow in front of the soon to be doomed Condor Club (at the hand of Montana), we drank and cheered with the finest residents of the finest city in the world. We are an ASS KICKING CITY! TAKE THAT PITTSBURGH!
We had been raised to believe this was the norm. Four Super Bowls.. we’re gonna have 15 victories before I am 40. We rule! We are San Franciscans! We are superior! We cannot be defeated!
It had been five long years since the Niners had been in the Super Bowl. We liked Steve Young but he was Joe Montana lite. I now lived in Los Angeles and still knew my roots were in the city. Wild Billy had mo
ved off to Germany and I spent the afternoon with Trusty Dave Carper, Mark “Sick Boy” Creed, Dave’s stripper girlfriend and this guy named Jaimie (pronounced Hy-mie) . Jaimie insisted on keeping the Spice channel running on this new thing called picture in a picture.
This was a big deal as it was a face off between Trusty (from San Diego), Sickboy (from San Fran) and me. Sure, the Niners were going to win, but a lot of experts had predicted a close game. So we made a bet, every time your team scored.. do a shot of Tequila.
FORTY- NINE to TWENTY-SIX points later, everyone is fighting. Sickboy grabs me by the throat and starts choking me. Trusty takes it in stride and let him do his work. Jaime is into a mound of cocaine. I push Sick off of me. Knowing very bad things (most likely happening to me) were be on the horizon, I thank everyone for a lovely evening. I drive to another party where I, after accepting congratulations from someone’s parents, became quite inappropriate.
Sick Boy went into rehab the next day.
A hush had gone over the city as the market had tanked at the dot-com bust had begun to take effect. Half of the room had been laid of in the last 60 days. The E-Trade commercial elicited a dead silence across the normally festive Marina barroom. We all tried to laugh but it was forced. Everyone loves a monkey in a commercial but this was the saddest monkey I had ever seen. It was followed by the cat wrangler commerical. In essence, it was this great juxtaposition. The E-Trade commercial telling the truth, the cat wrangler was this big expensive ad for a company that no one had ever heard of, nor can name now. I was dating a girl who left with a rocket scientist.
Someone was sleeping with someone who had a big, fat house in the hills. So we all went over. Some of the best food I had ever had a Super Bowl Party. Just a few months after 9-11, everyone was still very on edge. It seemed like the first time in a while to cut loose and seemed appropriate to have some fun. Then U2 came on at halftime and Bono howled, growled “America… AAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH” and delivered a blistering version of “The Streets Have No Name.” They then showed a scrim of all of the names of the 9-11 victims. At it’s climax the scrim crashed down as if to say… “We are not forgetting but we are moving on.”
The long suffering Patriots fought off a last minute challenge to become the next big champion. Then Braun pushed Marty in the pool.
I had fallen in love. I wasn’t expecting it and didn’t even know it yet. She had asked me to wake up at three in the morning to go to the Long Beach marathon. She was a runner but wasn’t participating. She wanted to root on her friends. Really, I have to do all of that on Superbowl Sunday? I just want to hang with my friends. I remembered that I should spend more time rooting my friends on.
I drove her down and had all these messages from my friends to meet them at the local sports bar. We came home around 1:00 and had a nap. When I woke up and she had made an elaborate King Chicken casserole. We kinda of watched the game, read the New York Times, did the crossword and played some Scrabbble. She wore my Steve Young jersey.
I didn’t envy any my friends squashed into the sports bar. It’s just a game
Getting married later in the year to the runner girl, got laid off again. I guess I will just have to work that out. My friend just got a great deal on a rental house with his wife and I am happy for them. After a pretty light move, I feel every inch of being forty. We will drink some beer, eat some chicken, play some Guitar Hero, enjoy the LA sunshine, critique the commercials, walk home. I’ll wonder how it can be FIFTEEN years since the Niners have been in the Super Bowl!
I’ll figure it all our later. Life goes on!
|< Prev||Next >|