The 2013 NFL season has come to a close, and, after all the hype ending in a way that no one was expecting. Super Bowl XLVIII was expected to be an incredibly close game between the league’s best defense in the Seattle Seahawks and the NFl’s best offense in the Denver Broncos. Instead, the Seahawks completely dominated the game in almost every positional battle, winning 43–8.
From the very start of the game, it looked like Peyton Manning and the Broncos were seriously struggling. The first hike to Manning flew about a yard over his head and he looked stunned, as did the crowd. After Trindon Holliday failed to return a deep kickoff past the 20-yard line, Manny Ramirez snapped the ball early on the very first play from scrimmage. The ball bounced all the way to the back of the end zone, and Knowshon Moreno fell on it to give Seattle the safety. So much for starters!
My heart sank with the feeling that this was going to be a repeat of the Broncos and Seahawks last game, when the Broncos were creamed, as well.
According to Seattle’s Twitter account, it was the fastest scoring play in Super Bowl history, happening only 12 seconds into the game. Yikes, I thought! My wife’s Aunt Louise who lives in Denver must be having an apoplexy. Once the ultimate Bronco fan, she has come to call them the Denver Donkeys. I was getting an insight into why.
After a couple of field goals by Steven Hauschka in the first quarter, things didn’t feel too out of hand for the Broncos at 8–0. But there was an ominous feeling in my gut. This was Payton Manning we were talking about, and he was in the process of having the greatest season of any quarterback ever.
However, things got ugly quickly. And I felt cheated, even as opera star Renee Fleming replaced Alicia Keys as singer for the national anthem. Alicia Keys, with those soulful arabesques of note-bending of the melody and, if you were lucky enough, her tasty self-accompaniment on the keyboard.
Three minutes into the second quarter, Marshawn Lynch was able to drive in for a one-yard touchdown run. Eek! As the Broncos tried to get something to happen in the second, they kept stalling. But it looked like the Broncos had a chance to score with a little over three minutes remaining before halftime.
Instead, Manning was hit and an attempted pass went straight up in the air. Malcolm Smith picked off Manning, taking the pass 69 yards for a huge defensive touchdown to put his team up 22–0 heading into halftime. By then, I knew the evening was over. That play, along with nine total tackles and a fumble recovery, helped Smith, a former seventh-round selection, win the Super Bowl MVP award.
If there was any hope for Denver fans that their team could come back, it quickly faded away as soon as the second half started. Percy Harvin, who had only played in two other games the entire season and playoffs, took a kickoff return 87 yards to the house, putting his team up 29–0 and giving Denver the knockout blow.
After the Seahawks scored another touchdown, this time a 23-yard pass from Russell Wilson to Jermaine Kearse, the Broncos were able to finally get on the board at the end of the third quarter. Manning was able to find Demaryius Thomas for a 14-yard touchdown as time ran out, making a two-point conversion as well.
But it didn’t matter, as the Broncos were still down 36–8. However, according to Will Brinson from CBS Sports that touchdown pass helped Thomas break the Super Bowl record for receptions in a game. He finished the game with 13 catches. No bad luck for that number now.
The final quarter came and went without too much more action besides another touchdown by Wilson, this time to Doug Baldwin, and another turnover by Manning, getting stripped while in the pocket.
At the end of the day, the Broncos were outplayed for nearly all 60 minutes. Wilson looked like the established veteran during the game while Manning looked like the nervous younger player.
The Broncos looked like the two doves the Pope let fly from his window, which were attacked by a raven and a pigeon and torn apart. Bless us father, for the Broncos scored like they were savaged on every play. The ball was literally ripped from their hands from running plays or while being tackled or just fumbling. It was like a fight with a private school team against some street team who walked over them.
The Legion of Boom was dominant throughout, and it felt as if any of the defensive players would have been deserving of the Super Bowl MVP award. At the end of the night, with minutes left to play, I shut the TV off, knowing the game was lost. But I’d had that feeling from the first play as The Seahawks proved that they had one of the most dominant teams in a very long time, and their defense will go down as one of the most memorable in NFL history.
So much for the Broncos muffing the game: Let’s get back to the show biz of the game. Long before the opening fumble, Super Bowl Boulevard, from West 34th to 46th Street, Herald Square, in New York City lent an open invitation to tourists and fans, freaks and geeks, even Mayor de Blasio and his son Dante got to ride a toboggan slide that looked twenty stories high (I hope they had a lift), as one wave of people slid down the highs and lows to the ground for five bucks a ride. What this had to do with the game puzzles me.
Out in East Rutherford, New Jersey’s Meadowlands, the 82,000-seat Met Life Stadium, usually home to the New York Jets and Giants, waited anxiously to host the Broncos and Seahawks. Beyond that, game tickets run from $1,400 to $2,400 and one of the specially allotted 1,500 parking passes cost $150. That’s why parking spaces were so limited and fans advised to take public transportation. This morning’s notices tell me the trains and stations were hot, crowded and uncomfortable, seeing how the temperature had moved to fifty degrees, not exactly football weather.
This while both the furry Staten Island and Pennsylvania ground hogs came out, saw their shadows and said, “Screw this,” predicting six weeks more of freezing winter, they crawled back into the earth.
What’s more, I was offended by the opening of game broadcast with Charley Sheen reading from the Declaration of Independence, leading to how it was all put together. Was that what made us free to play football? That seamlessly dissolved to a fleet of fighter planes whooshing across the screen into a dusky landscape, and later a montage of veterans, male and female, telling their families they’d be home soon and they loved them. From their mouths to God’s ears. The militarization of these public events is annoying, even though I have a son going into the Navy in less than two months.
Between Sheen, who looked like a poor-man’s Ben Franklin, and the game came the onslaught of commercials designed to turn the viewer into a cross-eyed idiot who couldn’t separate the actors from the players or even fathom the overly worked attempts at cleverness. The blitz of messages jumping off the screen into your face was, as ever, totally mind-numbing. It’s only upside was taking your mind off the sacking and cracking that was going on in the game. So many cute moms and kids and central-casting dads and grandparents, and special effects, with all those products that can put all your appetites to rest.
Again, with parking spaces at the stadium severely restricted for the game, Super Bowl organizers decided to rely heavily on trains and buses, which are usually used on a considerably smaller scale for Jets and Giants games.
After the game, to which about 28,000 fans arrived using New Jersey Transit, congestion at the MetLife station was so significant that fans were asked to remain inside the stadium. As of 11:20 p.m., nearly 90 minutes after the game had ended, about 13,000 people had been transported by train from the complex, a spokesman for the transit agency said. Ouch!
Nevertheless, the sprawling lines of fans waiting to head back to Secaucus remained sizable as midnight came and went, with New Jersey Transit reporting that the lines had largely cleared by 12:45 a.m. People were mostly orderly, and the situation would probably have been worse if the game had been closer and a lot of Denver fans had chosen to stay to the end, but it was probably not quite the scenario the Super Bowl organizers had envisioned.
Hours earlier, fans were not particularly forgiving. For a chunk of the afternoon, the crucial train transfer at Secaucus, typically a simple walk through the station, remained uncomfortably tangled, rankling fans unaccustomed to the whims of the transit systems that move many people in and out of New York daily. Eventually, things seemed to smooth out, but by then, many passengers had already passed judgment.
And that’s how the live version went. Fortunately, I was home sitting in front of my 43” TV with the power to change realities from time to time. I caught some pieces of Russia TV, Syria burning, crowds of bloodied people, then over to the Ukraine’s vicious riots, and back to the dreary Super Bowl, Schmuperbowl. Aunt Louise’s Denver Broncos had lost, but I was still in the good old USA, warts and all, phony politicians, struggling economy, Wile E. Coyote president drone-bombing and NSA surveilling away.
Jerry Mazza is a freelance writer and life-long resident of New York City. An EBook version of his book of poems “State Of Shock,” on 9/11 and its after effects is now available at Amazon.com and Barnesandnoble.com.He has also written hundreds of articles on politics and government as Associate Editor of Intrepid Report (formerly Online Journal). Reach him at gvmaz@verizon.net.
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Super Bowl, Schmuperbowl
Posted on February 5, 2014 by Jerry Mazza
The 2013 NFL season has come to a close, and, after all the hype ending in a way that no one was expecting. Super Bowl XLVIII was expected to be an incredibly close game between the league’s best defense in the Seattle Seahawks and the NFl’s best offense in the Denver Broncos. Instead, the Seahawks completely dominated the game in almost every positional battle, winning 43–8.
From the very start of the game, it looked like Peyton Manning and the Broncos were seriously struggling. The first hike to Manning flew about a yard over his head and he looked stunned, as did the crowd. After Trindon Holliday failed to return a deep kickoff past the 20-yard line, Manny Ramirez snapped the ball early on the very first play from scrimmage. The ball bounced all the way to the back of the end zone, and Knowshon Moreno fell on it to give Seattle the safety. So much for starters!
My heart sank with the feeling that this was going to be a repeat of the Broncos and Seahawks last game, when the Broncos were creamed, as well.
According to Seattle’s Twitter account, it was the fastest scoring play in Super Bowl history, happening only 12 seconds into the game. Yikes, I thought! My wife’s Aunt Louise who lives in Denver must be having an apoplexy. Once the ultimate Bronco fan, she has come to call them the Denver Donkeys. I was getting an insight into why.
After a couple of field goals by Steven Hauschka in the first quarter, things didn’t feel too out of hand for the Broncos at 8–0. But there was an ominous feeling in my gut. This was Payton Manning we were talking about, and he was in the process of having the greatest season of any quarterback ever.
However, things got ugly quickly. And I felt cheated, even as opera star Renee Fleming replaced Alicia Keys as singer for the national anthem. Alicia Keys, with those soulful arabesques of note-bending of the melody and, if you were lucky enough, her tasty self-accompaniment on the keyboard.
Three minutes into the second quarter, Marshawn Lynch was able to drive in for a one-yard touchdown run. Eek! As the Broncos tried to get something to happen in the second, they kept stalling. But it looked like the Broncos had a chance to score with a little over three minutes remaining before halftime.
Instead, Manning was hit and an attempted pass went straight up in the air. Malcolm Smith picked off Manning, taking the pass 69 yards for a huge defensive touchdown to put his team up 22–0 heading into halftime. By then, I knew the evening was over. That play, along with nine total tackles and a fumble recovery, helped Smith, a former seventh-round selection, win the Super Bowl MVP award.
If there was any hope for Denver fans that their team could come back, it quickly faded away as soon as the second half started. Percy Harvin, who had only played in two other games the entire season and playoffs, took a kickoff return 87 yards to the house, putting his team up 29–0 and giving Denver the knockout blow.
After the Seahawks scored another touchdown, this time a 23-yard pass from Russell Wilson to Jermaine Kearse, the Broncos were able to finally get on the board at the end of the third quarter. Manning was able to find Demaryius Thomas for a 14-yard touchdown as time ran out, making a two-point conversion as well.
But it didn’t matter, as the Broncos were still down 36–8. However, according to Will Brinson from CBS Sports that touchdown pass helped Thomas break the Super Bowl record for receptions in a game. He finished the game with 13 catches. No bad luck for that number now.
The final quarter came and went without too much more action besides another touchdown by Wilson, this time to Doug Baldwin, and another turnover by Manning, getting stripped while in the pocket.
At the end of the day, the Broncos were outplayed for nearly all 60 minutes. Wilson looked like the established veteran during the game while Manning looked like the nervous younger player.
The Broncos looked like the two doves the Pope let fly from his window, which were attacked by a raven and a pigeon and torn apart. Bless us father, for the Broncos scored like they were savaged on every play. The ball was literally ripped from their hands from running plays or while being tackled or just fumbling. It was like a fight with a private school team against some street team who walked over them.
The Legion of Boom was dominant throughout, and it felt as if any of the defensive players would have been deserving of the Super Bowl MVP award. At the end of the night, with minutes left to play, I shut the TV off, knowing the game was lost. But I’d had that feeling from the first play as The Seahawks proved that they had one of the most dominant teams in a very long time, and their defense will go down as one of the most memorable in NFL history.
So much for the Broncos muffing the game: Let’s get back to the show biz of the game. Long before the opening fumble, Super Bowl Boulevard, from West 34th to 46th Street, Herald Square, in New York City lent an open invitation to tourists and fans, freaks and geeks, even Mayor de Blasio and his son Dante got to ride a toboggan slide that looked twenty stories high (I hope they had a lift), as one wave of people slid down the highs and lows to the ground for five bucks a ride. What this had to do with the game puzzles me.
Out in East Rutherford, New Jersey’s Meadowlands, the 82,000-seat Met Life Stadium, usually home to the New York Jets and Giants, waited anxiously to host the Broncos and Seahawks. Beyond that, game tickets run from $1,400 to $2,400 and one of the specially allotted 1,500 parking passes cost $150. That’s why parking spaces were so limited and fans advised to take public transportation. This morning’s notices tell me the trains and stations were hot, crowded and uncomfortable, seeing how the temperature had moved to fifty degrees, not exactly football weather.
This while both the furry Staten Island and Pennsylvania ground hogs came out, saw their shadows and said, “Screw this,” predicting six weeks more of freezing winter, they crawled back into the earth.
What’s more, I was offended by the opening of game broadcast with Charley Sheen reading from the Declaration of Independence, leading to how it was all put together. Was that what made us free to play football? That seamlessly dissolved to a fleet of fighter planes whooshing across the screen into a dusky landscape, and later a montage of veterans, male and female, telling their families they’d be home soon and they loved them. From their mouths to God’s ears. The militarization of these public events is annoying, even though I have a son going into the Navy in less than two months.
Between Sheen, who looked like a poor-man’s Ben Franklin, and the game came the onslaught of commercials designed to turn the viewer into a cross-eyed idiot who couldn’t separate the actors from the players or even fathom the overly worked attempts at cleverness. The blitz of messages jumping off the screen into your face was, as ever, totally mind-numbing. It’s only upside was taking your mind off the sacking and cracking that was going on in the game. So many cute moms and kids and central-casting dads and grandparents, and special effects, with all those products that can put all your appetites to rest.
Again, with parking spaces at the stadium severely restricted for the game, Super Bowl organizers decided to rely heavily on trains and buses, which are usually used on a considerably smaller scale for Jets and Giants games.
After the game, to which about 28,000 fans arrived using New Jersey Transit, congestion at the MetLife station was so significant that fans were asked to remain inside the stadium. As of 11:20 p.m., nearly 90 minutes after the game had ended, about 13,000 people had been transported by train from the complex, a spokesman for the transit agency said. Ouch!
Nevertheless, the sprawling lines of fans waiting to head back to Secaucus remained sizable as midnight came and went, with New Jersey Transit reporting that the lines had largely cleared by 12:45 a.m. People were mostly orderly, and the situation would probably have been worse if the game had been closer and a lot of Denver fans had chosen to stay to the end, but it was probably not quite the scenario the Super Bowl organizers had envisioned.
Hours earlier, fans were not particularly forgiving. For a chunk of the afternoon, the crucial train transfer at Secaucus, typically a simple walk through the station, remained uncomfortably tangled, rankling fans unaccustomed to the whims of the transit systems that move many people in and out of New York daily. Eventually, things seemed to smooth out, but by then, many passengers had already passed judgment.
And that’s how the live version went. Fortunately, I was home sitting in front of my 43” TV with the power to change realities from time to time. I caught some pieces of Russia TV, Syria burning, crowds of bloodied people, then over to the Ukraine’s vicious riots, and back to the dreary Super Bowl, Schmuperbowl. Aunt Louise’s Denver Broncos had lost, but I was still in the good old USA, warts and all, phony politicians, struggling economy, Wile E. Coyote president drone-bombing and NSA surveilling away.
Jerry Mazza is a freelance writer and life-long resident of New York City. An EBook version of his book of poems “State Of Shock,” on 9/11 and its after effects is now available at Amazon.com and Barnesandnoble.com. He has also written hundreds of articles on politics and government as Associate Editor of Intrepid Report (formerly Online Journal). Reach him at gvmaz@verizon.net.