My favorite Super Bowl wasn’t on television. It didn’t last four regulation quarters. It wasn’t held in a huge stadium.
My favorite Super Bowl was just 10 seconds of football when my daughter caught a touchdown pass in the end zone on the last day of her football career. She and one other girl were out for boy’s football that year. Though they practiced with full pads and took (and gave) plenty of hits all season, they didn’t get much action in the actual games.
I was standing on the sidelines, helping with the chain. Although we threw the football nearly every night after school for five years and she was just as good and just as fast as any end on the team, they didn’t use her much.
On this particular day, it was late in the fourth quarter and they hadn’t thrown to her all game. She ran deep. The ball went up. Time slowed to a crawl. I kept thinking “two hands, Kathryn!” She caught it. The crowd cheered.
And with nothing more to prove and a whole lot more pressing things to do, that was the end of her football career.