Continuing my recap of previous Super Bowl experiences...
In January 1983, the Washington Redskins defeated the Miami Dolphins 27-17, in Super Bowl XVII. The star of the game was Washington's running back John Riggins, who rushed for 166 yards and the game's pivotal touchdown. On a 4th down and 1 from the Miami 43, Riggins took a handoff, and ran to the left. Miami's Don McNeal had a shot at stopping Riggins behind the line of scrimmage, but the much heavier and stronger Riggins broke free of McNeal's grasp, and rumbled up the sideline for a 43-yard touchdown.
A couple of years later, Riggins gained a large measure of notoriety when, having imbibed too much alcohol at a Washington Press Club dinner, he approached Supreme Court Justice Sandra Day O'Connor and said "C'mon, Sandy baby, loosen up." He then promptly fell asleep under the table.
I watched this game at home. The rest of my family went out to the hamburger place for dinner, and brought some food home for me. My parents felt that I was old enough (13) to be left home alone, and besides, they had tired of my "transistor radio act" by then.
In those days, it seemed as though every time there was a football game on, my parents suddenly got the urge to take us out to the pizza shop or some other venue. In retrospect, it is entirely possible that this was just a coincidence, given that the weekly football games started at 1:00PM on Sunday, I got home from school at about 12:45, and it was a perfectly reasonable time to go out for lunch.
I'm not buying it, though. I still think that it was a conspiracy.
Not to be denied, I would accompany my family on these excursions, but I would bring along my trusty white transistor radio, and hold it to my ear at the table in the pizza shop, listening to the game. In those days, people who walked around in public listening to a transistor radio tended to smell like urine and pushed around shopping carts full of assorted junk. I usually avoided the urine smell and the shopping cart, but I imagine that the radio thing chagrined my parents nonetheless.
Over the years, my father got his revenge by making sure to tell his favorite "jokes" to my friends whenever they came over or we met them in public. On a couple of occasions, I'm pretty sure he flashed me a look that said, "If you don't like my jokes, perhaps you should just listen to that transistor radio of yours for entertainment."
I don't remember exactly what my parents brought home for me to eat during that Super Bowl, but for some reason, I seem to think it was a steak sandwich. At the very least, the timetable (January 1983) seems to line up with my relatively brief adolescent steak sandwich phase. (To be clear, I was the adolescent; the steak sandwich was mature, albeit a bit chewy at times).
The next year I went away to high school, and watching the Super Bowl required more resourcefulness. I refer to Super Bowls XVIII through XXI as "the lean years."
In Super Bowl XVIII, the Washington Redskins returned to the big game, and were routed by the Los Angeles Raiders, 38-9. The game ushered in a depressingly long stretch of uncompetitive Super Bowls, with only one or two exceptions. I watched the game at the home of an uncle of a friend of mine who lived near our school. I think we drank some soda, but I don't think we actually ate anything.
The next year, on a bitterly cold evening, the San Francisco 49ers beat the Miami Dolphins 38-16. The Miami quarterback, Dan Marino, had practically re-written the NFL's record book that year, and despite the bad loss, it seemed like Marino would have many other chances at a Super Bowl victory during his career. As it turned out, Marino never returned to the Super Bowl, and he remains one of the greatest players to never win a Super Bowl. Along with two friends of mine, I watched a good chunk of the game at a local Carvel store, where the Indian proprietor was happy enough to have some company, and any kind of revenue on a 20 degree night. I ate a milkshake during the first half. In the second half, with the game out of reach, I ate a banana split.
Super Bowl XX was another blowout, with the Chicago Bears defeating the New England Patriots 46-10. I watched the game with about 7 friends, at a hotel lounge. I drank some Diet Coke, and had stopped at 7-11 on the way over there for about 2 lbs. of Raisinets.
In January of 1987, the New York Giants beat the Denver Broncos by a score of 39-20. I watched the first half of the game with a handful of friends at an electronics store down the road from our school, and listened to the second half of the radio with the same group, while eating three Bagel Dogs.
The Bagel Dog, which was one of the great gastronomical advances of my time, was like a brilliant meteor, which flashed ever-so-briefly across the sky. It was the perfect food, but then disappeared about as abruptly as it had appeared on the scene.
Here's how I typically ate a bagel dog:
(1) Put the entire thing in a microwave for ten seconds, to soften the outer part of the Bagel Dog.
(2) Slice open the top of the Bagel Dog and slip the hot dog out.
(3) Pour a small amount of your condiment of choice (I usually used ketchup) into the bottom of the hollowed-out Bagel Dog.
(4) Put the hot dog back inside.
(5) Place the entire Bagel Dog into the microwave, and cook it for 90 seconds.
There are other ways to prepare and eat Bagel Dogs, but these methods are an abomination.
As the Giants celebrated their victory on that night in January of 1987, I realized that my Super Bowl viewing experience, and the games themselves, had left a lot to be desired over the preceding four years.
A change for the better would begin the next year.
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