Lee Geiger

I’m a pretty good winner. I’m a terrible loser. And I rub it in pretty good when we win.

Tom Brady

Sunday, February 3, 2002 (New Orleans) I plant myself like an overstuffed red pepper into a Superdome seat, my home away from home for the next nine hours or so. At least it’s a front row seat on the fourth level. I can hang my wobbly legs over the stadium railing if I want, but even better is the fact no crazed Patriots fan with one of those dopey Revolutionary War hats will be standing in front of me the entire game. I’m three-stories above the field at roughly the 45-yard line, and soon I will be witnessing the opening kickoff of Super Bowl XXXVI— the New England Patriots versus the St. Louis Rams.

Because this is the first Super Bowl after 9/11, security around the Superdome is tighter than my pants after a feast of BBQ shrimp at New Orleans famous Mr. B’s. Bistro (with the requisite loaf of French bread to soak up the sauce). Game time is 5:30, but the stadium gates opened at 12:30 so fans would have enough time to make their way through the gauntlet of metal detectors, bag checks and bomb-sniffing dogs. I did as I was told and arrived early. I check my watch…it’s 12:45. I have just enough time to read War and Peace.

Three nights in New Orleans has mentally and physically worn me out. There’s just too much to see and do. I feel like six-pounds of gumbo in a five-pound bag. But in a good way. The food, the music, the vibe…have I mentioned the food? I long ago promised myself that should life circumstances warrant a single trip to a Super Bowl, it would have to be in New Orleans. All my life I heard what a crazy week it was when the NFL championship came to this storied city, and I haven’t been disappointed. I also haven’t slept.

The walk from my hotel to the Superdome was surreal. Because of the fear of a Super Bowl terrorist attack, tickets to the game are being hawked at face value ($400). Like jazz music and necklace beads, tickets are literally everywhere. I haven’t seen this much paper for sale since the RevenuesAreOverrated.com crash of 2000. I’m here today because I bought a Super Bowl package at an auction, and at this very moment, sitting in an uncomfortable fiberglass seat nursing a Cajun hangover, I can’t believe I’m actually going to scratch what may be the biggest itch on my bucket list. I. Am. At. A. Super. Bowl. Unbelievable.

Meanwhile, Patriots fans, who two weeks prior had never heard of the Tuck Rule until their very existence depended on it, are joyously celebrating their just-happy-to-be-here moment. The Pats are 14-point underdogs, after all, and they have about as much a chance of winning today’s game as I have of turning my back on the beignets at Cafe du Monde. I actually feel sorry for them. The commonwealth of Massachusetts, and the region of New England, hasn’t lifted a championship trophy since the Boston Celtics NBA title in 1986. This Patriots team is good, but I highly doubt Bostonians will be holding any victory parades down Boylston Street anytime soon.

Ram fans, on the other hand, are wondering why the game is being played at all. The Rams beat the Patriots back in early November in Foxboro by a score of 24-17, and though the Patriots haven’t lost another game since then, they are no match against a Rams team whose high-flying offense has earned them the moniker of “The Greatest Show on Turf.” Surely, stars Kurt Warner and Marshall Faulk can dismantle this team of New England no-names without breaking a sweat. Heck, there’s even talk that second-year Patriots quarterback Tom Brady might not start the game. He missed the second half of last week’s AFC championship game against the Pittsburgh Steelers due to a sprained ankle. Honestly, how important could this Brady guy really be to the team’s success? I mean, the kid may be tall, dark and handsome, but what else about him is so special? My money says he won’t even start next season.

I wake up from my temporary coma and check my watch again…3:15. Is this game ever going to start? Every Superdome concession stand sells the same three items; seafood gumbo, red beans and rice, and popcorn. Two hours until game time and I’ve already savored the Superdome’s three main food groups. I spend my time playing with the Super Bowl souvenir I received when I walked through the gates; a small teddy bear wearing a red, white and blue Uncle Sam hat. It’s more than a little cheesy, and I’m more than a little bored.

Patriots kicker Adam Vinatieri is on the field knocking meaningless field goals through the uprights from fifty yards out. I suddenly recognize a pear-shaped Weeble waddling toward Vinatieri. It’s none other than legendary broadcaster John Madden. Madden announced his retirement earlier this week, and it’s clear from the reception he’s getting from the players and fans that he’s The Man, a well-respected icon in the game of football. Yet despite the fact that this is the last game he’ll ever call, he’s preparing himself like the true professional he is. I’m more than impressed. I’m in awe.

It’s finally time for the pregame festivities. Everything, and I mean everything, has a patriotic bow tied around it. The tragic wounds from September 11 are still fresh, and dammit, we’re going to use this unofficial national holiday to proudly say we are America, and we’re not to be messed with. An ensemble of performers including Barry Manilow, Wynonna Judd and Patti LaBelle sing “Let Freedom Ring.” Then a video segment is played of past and present NFL players reading excerpts from the Declaration of Independence. Mary J. Blige and Mark Anthony, along with the Boston Pops Orchestra, perform “America the Beautiful.” Paul McCartney sings his post 9/11 song “Freedom.” Finally, Mariah Cary belts out the national anthem. Afterwards, President George Bush and NFL Hall of Fame good guy Roger Staubach make their way out to participate in the Super Bowl coin toss. As far as I’m concerned, I’ve already gotten my money’s worth. The game is the gravy on the meatloaf.

The Rams offensive starters are introduced, with each player running onto the field after their name is called by Pat Summerall, another NFL icon. The Patriots, however, eschew tradition and choose to be “introduced as a team.” The whole team runs out of a tunnel at once. Whatever. They’re still going to lose.

New England scores twice in the first half and their defense puts a stranglehold around the Ram’s vaunted offense. The halftime score is 14-3. It’s the first time in the entire 2001 season that the Rams have fallen behind by more than eight points in a game. This guy Belichick, who coaches the Patriots, is pretty good.

The halftime show is performed by the Irish rock band U2. While performing their three-song set, the names of the victims from the September 11 attacks are projected onto a screen behind the stage. It’s a captivating and poignant tribute to those who were lost. Tears are streaming down my face, and I’m not trying to hide them. Neither is anyone else.

Down 17-3 after three quarters, the Rams offense finally comes to life. They tie the game with 1:30 left in the game. The Patriots get the ball back but have no timeouts left, so overtime looks likely. What a game!

But Brady dumps three passes to running back J.R. Redmond to move the ball to the New England 41. So what. There’s only 33 seconds left. I have time for one more order of rice and beans before the overtime starts.

After an incomplete pass, Brady completes a 23-yarder to Troy Brown, who gets out of bounds. He follows that up with a 6-yard completion to tight end Jermaine Wiggins to advance the ball to the Rams’ 30-yard line. Brady then spikes the ball with seven seconds left. Better put a hold on those rice and beans.

Adam Vinatieri comes out to attempt a 48-yard game winning field goal. I had only seen him make this kick a dozen times just hours earlier. The kick is up, and….

Why are all these people are running onto the field? What’s all this glittery stuff floating down from the ceiling? Is the game really over? Can I still get some rice and beans?

Walking back toward my hotel to freshen up before joining the frivolity on Bourdon Street, I think about how a skinny 24-year old kid from Junipero Serra High School in San Mateo, CA just led his team to a Super Bowl win. Not bad. Not bad at all. But even if he wins another Super Bowl, he’ll never be as good as Joe Montana.

p.s. Who do I like in the game? If it comes down to local Northern California high school kids, Brady (Serra H.S.) vs. Goff (Marin Catholic H.S.), it matters that Goff has lost only one championship game in his life (to Campolindo H.S.). My money, and not necessarily my heart, says that record doesn’t change.

p.s.s. For what it’s worth, below is a list of things that didn’t exist when Tom Brady played in his first Super Bowl in 2002.

iPhone
Android
Facebook
YouTube
MySpace
Instagram
Tesla
Spotify
Skype
Twitter
LinkedIn
Gmail
Uber
Airbnb
Google Maps
iTunes Store
SoundCloud
Nintendo Wii
Dropbox
Hashtags
SpaceX
Reddit
Fitbit
GoPro
iPad