In honor of the “Big Game” on Sunday, the guys from Section 400 got a tad nostalgic this weekend. With this being our first Super Bowl since creating Views from Section 400, Brian and Jack decided to go over our favorite memories from Super Bowl’s past.
Jack’s Memory
I’ll take you back to Auburn, Alabama circa 2017.
It’s my first Super Bowl at the old fraternity house. The Atlanta Falcons are blowing out Tom Brady and the New England Patriots at Halftime and I’m surrounded by local Atlanta fans blaring heavy metal and chain smoking Marlboro Reds.
The few out of Patriots fans, one who happens to be one of my best friends in the world, are completely tarred and feathered.
A few left the house at halftime while a few stayed, taking their hypothetical and literal shots from the abundance of Atlanta locals.
Fast forward a few hours and the house turned into a warzone. Kegs were flipped, riots were started, and the saltiest tears I’ve ever seen were produced.
It was madness. Pure Bliss.
Brian’s Memories
I have two. If you know me they’ll be fairly obvious.
The first one comes in 2008, when my parents somehow agreed host a Super Bowl party for me and a bunch of my hooligan 10-year-old friends.
My mom (a true Saint) bought jugs of Mountain Dew, cooked an absurd amount of deliciously fatty food, and most infamously went to Party City to buy-out the stores’ supply of Blue and Red confetti.
I’m not sure I’ve ever seen more of a mess in my life than what occurred in the seconds following Eli Manning’s miraculous evaded sack.
My dad screaming; “Throw it away!”, my friend’s dad (who was exiled to the kitchen for superstitious reasons) squinting during the Giants biggest drive since he was in college, myself watching in awe…. and then it happened.
David Tyree somehow caught a football on his helmet. Seconds later Plaxico Burress won the game with a catch in the back of the end zone.
The confetti flew, the gallon bottles of Coca Cola and Mountain Dew were “popped” on the porch, the house was a frenzy.
It was only four or five years ago our coach stopped spewing out remnants of blue and red from that party.
My second memory is a little more tame but just as absurd.
My dad and I had the absolute once in a lifetime journey of going to every Giants playoff game during the 2011 Super Bowl run. Starting with the “Win and In” Week 17 game against Dallas and ending in Indianapolis for the Super Bowl.
The story in itself is amazing enough (I’ll tell it another day), but for now we’ll fast forward to the Big Game.
Tom Brady made my life a living hell for 3 hours in Indy. Looking back on that day, I didn’t enjoy the experience nearly as much as I should have. The stress was unbearable and didn’t end until a good 30 seconds after the failed Hail Mary to end the game.
Still, Mario Manningham’s sideline catch (and Eli’s amazing throw) is something I will NEVER forget. We were in the nosebleeds on the other side of the stands yet something told me he had to catch that ball.
Lone behold, the “NBCeeIt” confirmed my optimism, and turned to give every New Englander near us the classic catch signal.
Ahmad Bradshaw unwillingly scored the game winning touchdown later that drive, and my dad and I had successfully led the Giants to the Super Bowl. You cannot convince me otherwise.
Matt’s Memory
The year was 2018. The weather was cold, Bud Light was cool (Dilly, Dilly), and Nick Foles had led my Birds to the Super Bowl.
I hadn’t even brushed my teeth yet, but something in my brain told me to go onto socials and post a picture of Doug Pederson during his playing days as the Birds’ backup quarterback. Life was good.
Many emotions flooded my soon to be less-than-sober body. Nervousness, anxiousness, pure excitement, but most importantly, confidence.
Everything was telling me the Eagles were finally going to do it. It didn’t take long for friends and family to congregate, sharing stories about the Super Bowl loss in 2004 at the hands of the same team the Birds would play today.
I won’t repeat much of what was said, but let’s just say Tom Brady would not have been welcomed in that household. Although I was only 8 years old in 2004, conversations leading up to the rematch only made me yearn for revenge even more.
We couldn’t let Brady do it to us again. It was Philadelphia’s time.
The game was a fantastical blur of emotions. From the Philly Special, to guys like Corey Clement making huge plays, to the eventual strip sack by Brandon Graham, it was pure jubilation.
When the ball landed to the turf on Brady’s final Hail Mary attempt I looked around the room, jumping and screaming. The Eagles had finally done it. The monkey was off the city’s back.
The final whistle signaled more than words can describe. It was more than a football game. People not from Philly won’t ever realize that.
The Eagles are a microcosm of the city. Generations of Philadelphia families embraced. That moment I shared with my father who sat through bad season after bad season for 40+ years, was just so damn special.
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