Super Bowl 50: All That Glitters

From beer cans to yard-line markers, the NFL has turned a gold 50 into a ubiquitous brand—and proved our weakness for shiny objects.

 

- Bryan Curtis

5 A.M., DEC. 19. Fifty days before Super Bowl 50. It’s black and cold in downtown San Francisco. Heavy rain is beginning to fall. Five workmen grunt as they open the rear door of an 18-wheeler parked near city hall. Inside, there is a giant wooden crate.

The lead workman, Tug Orr, has a name that sounds like the groans of heavy lifting. People will be here soon! Orr shouts into his cellphone. This has to get done! As rain slides off his ball cap, he gets behind the wheel of a small forklift. With the care of a Jurassic Park game warden, he slides the tines under the crate and lowers it to the ground, then pries off one side of the crate. “There it is,” Orr says. “Pretty cool, isn’t it?” Illuminated by the headlights of the forklift, they can see a giant, golden No. 50. The workmen move it onto the sidewalk.

Even within San Francisco’s everything-is awesome aesthetic, the 50 makes for an outré piece of street art. It measures 6 feet high. It is made of aluminum and steel. Printed on the front of the digits are photos of the 49 previous Super Bowl rings. The base has the wrong date for the game (it says Feb. 7,2015), so Orr and his men quickly peel it off, leaving only a hashtag—#SB50—by way of explanation. Then they leave. The golden 50 sits in a lonely plaza with seagulls squawking overhead.