Wednesday, February 14, 2018 // The Statement
6B

Watching the Super Bowl from Sevilla

T

he hundred of us spent just 
a few hours together, at an 
Irish pub in Spain, standing, 

jeering 
and 
celebrating 
the 
most 

American of traditions.

Sly Fernandez de Castro came to the 

bar by himself — standing out among 
groups of American college students 
who had come to the Phoenix Pub for a 
taste of home and discounted “cerveza” 
in the Los Remedios area of Sevilla. 
He was an American soldier from 
downtown Philadelphia, based in the 
Morón Air Base in Sevilla, Spain.

De Castro was an Eagles fan, looking 

for a place with big screen TVs, good 
beer and a vibrant atmosphere.

He 
had 
considered 
flying 
to 

Minnesota for the game, even asking 
his commander for permission.

“You really want to do this?” the 

commander said to him. 

De Castro wasn’t sure and opted 

to stay in Sevilla, afraid of having his 
heart broken by his team yet again.

Then there was Aaron.
He was a shy kid. He clearly came to 

the bar for the “sport” aspect and little 
else. He didn’t drink like others in the 
bar, socialized sparingly, but was an 
enthusiastic Patriots fan. But he could 
talk smack. Throughout the game, he 
and the Eagles fan would poke fun at 
each other’s team after each dropped 
pass and holding penalty.

De Castro remained confident the 

Birds would win even as the Patriots 
began to inch closer. The Patriots fan 
wasn’t nervous until Rob Gronkowski 
failed to rein in Tom Brady’s final pass.

In the early hours of Feb. 5, the soldier 

and Aaron, like myself and so many 

others, found themselves at Phoenix 
Pub with countless other foreigners 
and some oddly-interested Spaniards in 
the supposed “American game.”

Maybe it was a longing for the United 

States, some nostalgia for our culture 
while living in a foreign country, or 
simply a desire to continue a long-
standing tradition. Nonetheless, we all 
stayed up until 4 a.m. to watch football, 
Justin Timberlake and spend time with 
our newfound friends.
I

’ve watched the Super Bowl 
since I was five. I love that every 
year for one game, for nearly 

four hours, families and friends pay 
attention to their TVs and computers. 
Some watch the Super Bowl for the out-
of-this-world plays. Others watch it 
to spend time with their friends or to 
see the latest iteration of the Doritos 
commercial, or, perhaps cringe at the 
next controversial GoDaddy ad.

Every year until I graduated high 

school, I spent Super Bowl Sunday, 
the entire day of the Super Bowl, with 
my closest friends. We would watch 
the game together, adding in our own 
inside jokes about the players and 
commercials. Then at halftime, the 
group of us, along with my younger 
cousins, would play a game of touch 
football in my backyard — imagining 
ourselves as the next Tom Brady or, 
in the case of my Giants fan friend 
Andrew, Eli Manning.

In an era when football receives — 

perhaps valid — criticism for its unjust 
treatment of protesting players, over-
militarization of games, a concern 
over injuries or in the case of one Daily 
writer, boredom, the Super Bowl serves 

as an antidote to 
these narratives.

Though 
some 

might 
argue 
that 

events 
like 
the 

Oscars 
captivate 

the 
movie-buff 

and 
casual 
film-

watcher alike, the 
Super 
Bowl 
too 

attracts 
sports 

enthusiasts toward 
its 
gameplay 
and 

pop-culture 
fans 

toward its halftime 
performances 
and 
unique 

commercials. 
Just 

ask members of the 
Beyhive what they 
think of Super Bowl 
50 and Beyoncé’s 
performance 
of 

“Formation.”

Still, there is a tendency to consider 

the Super Bowl as an activity to “unify” 
a politically and culturally divided 
nation. Not only is this assertion cliché, 
it isn’t necessarily correct.

I enjoy the Super Bowl because, 

rather than unify people from across 
the world, it captivates its audience. 
This year, whether someone tuned 
in to watch Nick Foles and the Eagles 
miraculously outplay Tom Brady, or 
to see Justin Timberlake’s extremely 
mediocre halftime performance, the 
viewer was intrigued by what would 
come next. 

That is why I love the Super Bowl. 

There is no excuse to not participate in 
the festivities, because it has something 
for everyone.

When in Spain, this realization is 

much to the glee of Spanish pickpockets, 
who feast on the absent-mindedness of 
Americans paying closer attention to 
the actions on screen than the backs of 
their jeans.
I 

had been nervous about being 
abroad for the first time during 
the Super Bowl. It is such a 

uniquely “American” event that, for me, 
represents home, friends and laughter 
and for the first time, I didn’t have a set 
plan in place.

While home for the month of January, 

I had enjoyed the Wild Card, Divisional 
and Championship games with my dad, 
but I, unfortunately, wouldn’t be home 
for the Super Bowl.

As Super Bowl Sunday approached, 

and I had settled into my home in 
Sevilla, my friends on my program 
suggested we go to the Phoenix.

It was an Irish pub that would show 

the Super Bowl, they said.

Even before stepping in, I knew it 

would be a bit different than playing 
touch football in the backyard with my 
close friends in middle school.

I arrived at the bar around 11 p.m. 

Sunday — kickoff began at 12:30 a.m. 
Monday morning — to ensure a table 
near the television. I joined many 
members of my program and more 
began to file in. The University of 
Massachusetts-Amherst 
group 
and 

other New Englanders sat in the back 
corner in their Patriots shirts, from 
the typical (Rob Gronkowski) to the 
atypical — I saw an authentic Chris 
Hogan jersey.

Nearly everyone else supported the 

Eagles in the bar, with the exception of 
a few Spanish speakers sporting Tom 
Brady shirts.

As the seemingly endless pre-game 

analysis drew to a close, and the Star-
Spangled Banner began, I finally could 
sense the “home” feeling I thought 
would be lacking when watching the 
Super Bowl abroad.

Despite watching it 5,855 miles 

from my home in Los Angeles, I knew 
I would enjoy this experience among 
new friends and fellow students. Once 
Cris Collinsworth and Al Michaels 
appeared on screen, it became real. 
It wouldn’t be my typical Super Bowl 
viewing party in the United States and 
it wouldn’t be with my close childhood 
friends, but it would be an incredible 
experience.

There was a bit of an unexpected 

downside, however. We didn’t see 
any 
Doritos 
commercials, 
Dodge 

Commercials or any commercials.

Because it was a broadcast for 

global audiences, during commercial 
breaks we instead listened to British 
commentators, 
Canadian 
football 

coaches and Redskins cornerback Josh 
Norman analyze the game’s plays. 
For some people, this proved to be 
a turnoff. For me, it was part of the 
unique experience.

And I could still follow along with 

the ads across the Atlantic thanks to 
Twitter.
T

he 
game 
continued. 
The 

Patriots came back and kept 
everyone 
engaged 
until 

Brady’s last-second heave to the end 
zone.

By the end of another close Super 

Bowl, after Brady’s pass was deemed 
incomplete, de Castro was elated. After 
an extended “surrender cobra,” Aaron 
then knew his next move. He walked 
toward de Castro — whom he had just 
met — and embraced him. They gave 
each other a customary fist bump and 
the Patriots fan offered congratulations 
to the grimacing de Castro.

Before 
that 
final 
moment, 
the 

bartenders walked over to the groggy-
eyed Americans and told us that as 
soon as the game ended, we needed to 
leave the bar and venture outside to the 
surprisingly frigid southern Spanish 
morning.

As I headed to bed at 4:30 a.m., just 

a few hours before my first class, I was 
thankful — thankful for an incredible 
experience to watch a truly “American” 
event in a foreign country.

The projector screens in the Phoenix 

captivated each American, who — 
whether there for socializing, watching 
the game or enjoying the halftime show 
— enjoyed a taste of their childhood 
homes.

BY AVI SHOLKOFF, DAILY SPORTS WRITER

ILLUSTRATION BY 
HANNAH MYERS

