The Superbowl was Weird…
My Reflections from the Outside
(Santa Clara / Super Bowl)
I wrote this from the sidewalk outside the Super Bowl.
It’s unfiltered. It’s observational. It’s how the moment felt.
Beautiful day in Santa Clara.
I’m here for the Super Bowl managing transportation for a few clients, and I had no idea what I was walking into. I love a production adventure, so I showed up with high hopes. The gig is fun, clients great, work-team great, my boss is one of my best friends. And now that I’m here…
It’s a real weird scene on-site - not inside the stadium, but outside.
I walked and walked and walked. 16,000+ steps. No ticket. No responsibilities. No plan. Just wandering.
Not many smiles. Not much vibe. Barely any team spirit. Honestly, if I didn’t already know who was playing, I don’t think I could’ve even told you just by being out here. The Eagles, right?
Instead, what I found completely caught me off guard.
It was just… a whole lot of Jesus lovin, Muslim hating, god fearing, rapture shouting.
Diverse groups of people - sometimes the same colors, the same cultures - bound together through shared beliefs, while at the same time segregated from everyone else. Each crowd had their own corner: hustling flyers, preaching, branded shirts, branded merch, branded EZ-ups. Branding prayer. Branding religion. A very strange show of unity through shared beliefs, yet segregated through opposing opinions.
Every corner felt claimed.
West corner: Black Muslims talking about loving beef while pork is a sin.
South corner: no people - just anti-ICE posters plastered to the walls with passersby stopping to take photos.
East corner (south entrance): a group of Mexicans yelling into microphones that Muslims want to kill Jews and blow up happy families.
And in the middle of it all, right at the main entrance, one vile human’s voice filled the air with truly awful words and dark energy. He was surrounded by crowd of humans, just about as diverse as a crowd gets, all just standing there, silently, shaking their heads. Listening. Confused. Disgusted. Pretending not to hear… yet obviously hearing every word.
So I asked the white cops standing in the middle of this intersection melting pot - mustaches, aviators (of course) - if just anyone is allowed to yell racist bullshit outside the Super Bowl.
They lowered their glasses and said: “Welcome to America. That’s their right because they’re on the sidewalk.”
So I said: “You’re telling me I could grab a microphone and speaker and just yell racist obscenities at passing families coming to the Super Bowl? The largest event in the country, with more security present than any event I’ve ever been to, during a time of cultural divide and oppression… and as long as I’m on the sidewalk, that’s fine?
He shook his head, up and down, Yup - with body language that signaled both indifference to my words and noticeable discomfort from the words spewing from the man in the middle.
“You’re telling me the NFL is just gonna let their fans - people paying $7,000 per ticket - to walk through the gates and have their first impression be some asshole screaming hate?”
He shook his head, again. “Yup.”
And wow. Emotional blood was circulating. I was so angry. Confused. Pissed. I also felt weak, even ashamed, because I wasn’t going to stop him. And neither was anyone else. One dude with hate and a mic completely drowned out the spirits of hundreds around him. And the vibration of shame from inaction was palpable. So I walked away, but paused in thought. But, I felt the instigator inside start to bubble up, so I kept walking. This wasn’t the time for trouble. So I sat in the grass, in the sun, and just let it sink in.
Nothing rings more true of our times than the microcosm I just witnessed.
Where’s the love? Why is hate winning? Why is anger louder? WTF is going on?
So I kept walking. On the next corner: Jehovah’s Witnesses offeried me fake Super Bowl laminates with the writings of God on the back. A few blocks later, I receive an official Unity Missionary Baptist Church outreach Bible — Super Bowl edition. Score!
I’m not far from the stadium. I’m literally walking the perimeter of the fence, right along the ticket entry line. I walked miles looking for the tailgate. Searching for the vibe. But it did not exist. They had an ‘official tailgate’ in the parking lot, but unless you had a ticket, you couldn’t get in. And from what I could see through the security gates, it looked like just commercialized buying of expensive shit that didn’t matter. And nobody seemed to care. It all felt very strange.
So I turned back and tried to find the parking lot again - you know, where regular people actually tailgate: Drink beer. High five. Toast strangers. Cook food to share. Talk shit. Banter. Connect. You know… tailgate. The Super Bowl - I thought perhaps this also might be the championship of tailgating…so I thought…But it didn’t exist.
Just cops filling empty intersections. Empty office buildings with $400 parking spots.
No container to celebrate our sameness and our differences together and just have fun.
Instead, I circled through countless groups, what felt like militant, intimidating circles of religious recruiters. It’s like they fought for corner space, like the dealers in the cities, but their drug was god, and everyone was twisting up their own concoction, sippin their own koolaid - on every corner - for miles.
It was a fight for messaging dominance. It was noise over noise. Branding over branding. Felt like fear and divisiveness everywhere.
And joy… celebration… fun… almost totally absent.
Then I thought about Bad Bunny. The halftime show to come. The surface-level cultural relevance of the NFLs decisions to choose him, and the true impact of what could be. Keep in mind, the show has not started yet, nor has the game. I thought about how Turning Point and MAGA chose Kid Rock as their poster boy, and then the whole thing emploded. And how this moment has so much potential for real change, real action, real connection… the headlines will write it, the news will cover it, the moment will exist across the country and the world for a brief flash…and that’s about it. Because that’s all it is. Because that is all it was ever intended to be.
Being here, walking around, talking to people, experiencing the NFL Super Bowl!!!! in all its glory - one of the most powerful and influential companies in the world, the NFL - during one of the most divisive and dangerous times - with influence and resources to truly change the world…
…and…
Wait. The game must have started. Fighter jets flying in formation just passed over the stadium.
Why do we use war machines to celebrate unity?
And inside, I can hear echoes of the Star Spangled Banner. I imagine hats off, hands over hearts, 80,000 people singing in unison - finally, a moment of connection.
Yet I can’t help but wonder… maybe even hope…
That everyone in there, and everyone watching from home, feels more uncomfortable than ever.
That their brains drift from anticipation of the game to the grounding of that moment.
And in that moment, they think and feel, together:
What did this used to mean? How did these words used to make me feel? Do I still believe it — America? How will this ever change?
Am I proud? What the fuck am I singing about anyway?
So yeah. That sums up the first few hours of my Super Bowl experience, surrounded by one of the strangest moments and craziest times our country has ever lived through. It feels… off.
That’s it for now. I think I’m gonna go sit on the bus and just watch the game. I still enjoy that.
This though… being here… not so much. Not this time.
Go Birds!