Most of everything that needs to be said about Super Bowl XLIII has already been said, by people who write a lot better than I do. I recommend Peter King’s analysis here at SI, which – dare I say? – lovingly profiles the Steelers and their brotherhood and what they mean to each other and how that helped them win the game. Or, also from SI, a story that could be a profile of the city of Pittsburgh as much as the champion Steelers, by Don Banks.
They’ve never been afraid of hard work, or of stepping up when the moment demands. Some would say they don’t really know any other way.
Or enjoy this analysis from Gene Wojciechowski at ESPN which points out that even though the Steelers aren’t “America’s Team,” they’re the team that we all respect.
This is why the Steelers are unlike any other professional sports franchise. They win in ways you can respect. They beat the Arizona Cardinals 27-23 in arguably the best Super Bowl game ever, and the Steelers spend the postgame complimenting the other team as much as they compliment their own.
Quarterback Ben Roethlisberger found Cardinals QB Kurt Warner on the field and told him, “It was an honor to play against you.”
The national media coverage of this Steeler team and the amazing game they won yesterday has a feeling to it that I’m very used to in my own experience, but I’m not accustomed to seeing in the people who talk about sports for a living. It’s tenderness. It seems that at least for today, everyone is seeing our Steelers the way we do.
Just a few things to share about my own Super Bowl:
1. About The Harrison’s penalty. That penalty. It was dumb and crazy and violent and… funny. Funny as hell. I can’t explain why, and it probably reveals a very dark part of us, but Mrs. PF and PCC and I were rolling our eyes about the “unnecessary roughness” call because we were expecting just some dopey accidental tripping over someone like those calls often are, then when they replayed the beat-down we just dissolved laughing. It was just so unexpected. Like, YES, now THAT’S some roughness!
2. Clearly, The Troy and I have an unexplained cosmic connection. I can tell, because I had to scramble around to find a missing contact lens too. Mr. PF poked me square in the eye during a missed hug/high-five type move and out popped my lens onto the floor. The disembodied spirit of The Troy helped me find it. I know it.
3. I fully believe that the lack of Iron City at my house was singlehandedly responsible for the Cardinals’ fourth quarter comeback. You hear that, Vintage Cellar?! Your fault! We almost lost because of you!
4. Last night was one of the most wonderful, beautiful, affirming times I’ve had. (No, it doesn’t compete with my wedding. Mr. PF got in a little trouble with the Mrs. for leaving out that disclaimer yesterday…) I unabashedly cried through the whole last drive. I cried again in the car on the way to work listening to radio analysis. ESPN’s post-game conversation with The Ben moved me to sermonize about how perfect he is for us, how I don’t care that he’s a big oafish helmet-less lug, how he carries that team on his shoulders and never gives up, and how I’m glad he’s ours.
I’m glad they’re ours.