The 9/11 Attack Turned the Super Bowl into a Sacred, Patriotic Event

On September 11, 2001, the Islamic terrorist group al-Qaeda hijacked four airplanes and carried out suicide attacks against targets in the United States. Two of the planes were flown into the twin towers of the World Trade Center in New York City, a third plane hit the Pentagon just outside Washington, D.C., and the fourth plane crashed in a field in Pennsylvania. Almost 3,000 people were killed during the attacks.

Americans clutched their kids, buried their dead and built monuments on the Twin Towers grounds.  Mike Moran, a New York firefighter, spoke for all Americans at a benefit concert at Madison Square Garden when he shouted:  

"Osama bin Laden you can kiss my royal Irish ass!"

Many countrymen said:

"If we act scared, the terrorists win!"

So Americans pretended not to be scared, continued to populate rock concerts, football games and, of course, the Super Bowl, every event with tightened security and a sense of patriotism.

I had watched the first two Super Bowls, or NFL-AFL World Championships as then advertised, with a certain young arrogance. 

"How could an AFL team beat the Green Bay Packers" I asked, along with millions of others. 

They couldn't.  Green Bay kicked ass in both games against Kansas City and Oakland.

In 1969 Joe Willie Namath of Beaver Falls, PA and the University of Alabama led the New York Jets into Super Bowl III against the favored Baltimore Colts.  Most sports fans viewed the Jets' chances as dismal as they viewed Cassius Clay's years before against Sonny Liston.

Joe Namath

Selling thousands more copies of the New York Times, Namath cockily "guaranteed" victory and delivered on the promise.

The following year, 1970, the NFL and AFL merged into the current league.

Fast forward nearly fifty years and the National Football League faces its biggest challenge; the longterm health of its players.

The average lifespan of an NFL player is considerably shorter than the norm.  Players take hits to their head from the Pee Wee League to the NFL and it adds up to permanent damage.

Nena reminds me of these reports.  Bob Costas, one of my favorite broadcasters, no longer works the Super Bowl with his views on the game's permanent head injuries well known.

"Do you want your grandson playing football?" Nena asks.

Like a hypocrite, I still watch.  

At halftime, it's Philadelphia 22, New England 12.

Stay tuned!