Super Bowl III... A Personal Story

On the eve of Super Bowl XLI, the NFL Network gave me a trip back to the first Super Bowl I remember as a kid. Super Bowl III. In reality, the original Super Bowl. The first two were called the AFL-NFL Championship. Former Commissioner Pete Rozell was a smart guy with that Roman numeral thing, because AFL-NFL sounds like a union organization (which, in a way, it has become).

I don't remember the weather on that day in upstate New York, but I have no doubt it was cold-- and I am sure (given pre-global warming influences) there must have been 2-3 feet of snow on the ground. Simply put-- winter in that region, and in those years, was brutal. This is no exaggeration. It left emotional scars that run deep. I became a Los Angeles Rams fan solely on the images I saw on television during my snow-bound youth (the LA Coliseum splashed in sunshine; Gabriel to Snow for touchdowns; James Garner and Kirk Douglas watching from the stands in hip shirts and stylish sunglasses). I wanted to leave for LA immediately-- and I was only 10.

I remember our family returning home from church. Soon after, company arrived. With five kids and a dog-- our house always seemed in a stir. With visitors, in this case-- a family with five more kids, the house went beyond stir stage. It was five buttons higher on the blender. It was 1969, and Super Bowl parties hadn't been invented yet. This was a typical Sunday afternoon visit families made then-- and now. Only today they bring chips and salsa, and stay for six hours.

The center of activity in our house was ALWAYS the kitchen. Parties, reunions, receptions, political debates, financial discussions, homework, phone calls, and meals took place there. January 12, 1969 was no different. Most folks were in the kitchen caring little about the game. Except for me. I was sprawled on the living room floor, in front of an RCA (I think) black & white (I know) TV, watching Joe Namath pick apart the high and mighty Baltimore Colts.

This was the late 1960s. The counterculture hadn't burned-out yet. Namath was hip, brash, and from the town of my birth- Beaver Falls, Pennsylvania. He had long hair and wore a fur coat. Receiver Don Maynard had those huge sideburns. The Jets weren't my favorite team, but I viewed them as part of the anti-establishment. I was cheering for them. At the time, the Giants owned New York, and the Colts were their partners in NFL elitism. I didn't fully understand that the revolutionary AFL teams were really NFL operations in disguise-- they had agreed to join the NFL in 1970. Yep, they sold-out.

Played in Miami, the game left a lasting and mythical impression on me. Watching it replayed on the NFL Network didn't change my view. It has sharpened it.

It was stunning only for its outcome. The Jets pulled-off one of the biggest upsets in sports history. An upset that Namath, now famously, guaranteed. But the game wasn't well played. Namath was solid at times, not so at others. He won outstanding player honors (and a 1969 Dodge Charger, I believe), but running back Matt Snell was just as good. The Colts were either overrated, or uninspired. Probably both. That they were 15-1 going into Super Bowl III wasn't surprising. That they were 15-1 with Earl Morrall at quarterback is mind-boggling. They had big name players-- Mackey, Matte, and Smith. But their biggest-- Unitas--- was injured most of the season and near the end of his career. He entered the game late, and nearly brought the Colts back. But his late interception also cost the Colts a chance.

My wife had a wonderful observation watching legendary announcer Curt Gowdy during the pre-game show. She remarked that even then, Gowdy commented on how Namath was told to "be himself" when approaching the pressure of playing in a big game. It's ironic how Namath's win helped make the Super Bowl THAT MUCH bigger, and placed even more pressure on quarterbacks of the future-- guys like Bradshaw, Staubach, Montana, and now Manning.

It's obvious the Super Bowl has changed plenty since 1969. Last night's replay of Super Bowl III made that more evident when NBC's half-time show wasn't Prince... but rather, a sideline interview with... Bob Hope.

This time even I'm saying-- thanks for the memories.