Date and Location: February 8, 2026, Levi’s Stadium, Santa Clara, CA.

Reflections: Where do I even begin with this one?
Probably the beginning. Yeah. As it’s a very long story, let’s start there.

Although to the outside world I flourished during this time period, for me, Fall of 2025 was a viciously unhappy time. Crossing back across the ocean to the US drained the life from me – not in any way related to politics, suprisingly, but due to a dull resignation that in spite of my progress, life back home would be the same, static environment I had left.

I was online too much. I wasn’t sleeping well. In those grey, long between-hours, I saw an advert from Fandiem in which Ray Lewis talked about the Superbowl. Even if I didn’t win, I reflected, at least the $15 I donated to enter the prize draw would help someone somewhere. As did the $5 I paid for an additional 200 entries. “Girl math,” right?

Precisely ten days before Superbowl LX, I received an unexpected email while on the phone to a friend, taking out rubbish from an apartment I had to move out of three days later.
I may, or may not, have screamed.

The resulting five days were a whirlwind of absolute mayhem. I moved out of my house. I moved into a new one. I drew the Ravens, Seahawks, and Patriots logos on a bathroom wall to send over as a thank you. I cried back and forth down the phone to a best friend who feared it was too short notice to get time off work. I briefly considered giving up the tickets in some survivor’s guilt grief if we couldn’t go as a pair. I left my new house one day later after finding out she could go, flying from Arkansas up to New York to fly out to San Francisco.

And then somehow we were beside each other, flying on a United Boeing 777. Going to Superbowl LX, but not before attending a cigar launch with Ray Lewis. I swear, despite being on the plane, I remained convinced I’d hallucinated it.

Our singular pre-Superbowl engagement was to meet our impossibly generous patron at a rooftop party. This engagement, unfortunately, had started just a little before our plane landed, leading to us frantically getting changed in the bathrooms of SFO airport and scrambling into an Uber there. Ray himself was lovely to talk to, and apparently laughed when I informed him that this was the closest a Browns and Jets fan would get to a Superbowl in our lifetime. I had not planned to divulge this information. The open bar loosened my tongue. The photo, however, turned out really nice!

Given the absolutely chaotic last minute nature of the trip, we spent the day before the Superbowl wandering San Francisco with no set plans. It’s the most relaxed I think either of us have ever felt on a holiday. The atmosphere, conversely, was absolutely humming, alive with the energy of a nation of football fans condensed into a single strip of boardwalk. We got free tee shirts at an NFL giveaway, bought overpriced lanyards at the official merch stores, and indulged in a giant sundae to receive a football keyring from Ghiardelli Square. It was magical to just drift.

No drifting was allowed on the platform as the train pulled into the station near Levi Stadium the next day. A specific wristband to get onto the platform was needed for every attendee: all 70,823 of them. As an ex-events worker, I’m genuinely astonished at how smoothly it all went – on the way in at least – and how quickly we were able to get into the stadium grounds themselves. We arrived a little late for the giveaways, but did manage to snag a free Seattle Seahawks towel and a drinks coozie on the way in. We also arrived a little late for Green Day, but did get to hear them, if not properly see them perform.

And then the first quarter started.

I’ve heard people complaining that the Superbowl was dull. Compared to Unc Bowl, sure. But even the Minnesota Vikings VS New York Giants snoozefest we watched in November would have been electric in that atmosphere. For a brief period of time, the world outside of the dome-shaped stadium ceased to exist. Just us, a screamed chorus of “Sea!” “Hawks!”, and the setting sun. It was surreal to actually see the confetti drift down to earth in person, and to take photos of other sets of fans and learn about their lives as it drifted.

It wasn’t all that idyllic. The exit afterwards was a complete mess. After walking a mile and a half (the stepcounter confirms), we found ourselves in a compound with no water, $200 Uber fares, and over a thousand other fans in the same state of confusion. One of those was a delightful Texas GP, who allowed us to bundle into his overpriced Uber and end up in In-N-Out Burger, where a hundred other Seahawks fans were celebrating. The “unofficial afterparty”, as someone declared it, was as high-spirited as the game itself.

Although there are a lot of words in this post, I don’t have enough to sum up the strangest, most surreal and wonderful long weekend of my life. If you’re within two states of a Superbowl ever, please head there just to soak up the atmosphere: it feels like the kind of community sports should build.

My sincerest thanks to Dana, Grace, and Chelsea at Fandiem for making all this happen. My sincerest thanks to Ray Lewis for being so gracious and donating the tickets.

Take a chance in life. Open a door. You never know what will walk through it.

Final Score: 29-13 Seattle Seahawks. We did not have to witness the excruciating birth of a new-New England Patriots dynasty in the flesh. The relief was absolutely unparalleled.

Best Food or Drink: Outside of the match? Clam chowder and a piece of fried red snapper on the boardwalk. At the match? An astonishingly overpriced meal consisting of $18 chicken tenders, fries, and a wide variety of sauces. My conception of it being the best thing I’ve ever eaten may have been influenced by the adrenaline of running hell-for-leather up seven flights of stairs.