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