Pictured Above: Robyn Evans tweeted out a photo of her and her late father leading up to Super Bowl LV.
Courtesy of Robyn Evans
By Mark Parker
Courtesy of Mark Parker
As the revelry began to wind down following the Tampa Bay Buccaneers’ 31- 9 beatdown of the Kansas City Chiefs in Super Bowl LV, somewhere along Central Avenue in St. Petersburg and at some time that would technically be considered early Monday morning, I decided to try and express the feeling of the moment.
“For a guy with a lot of words, I have no words,” I wrote on the usually ill-advised late Facebook post. “Cops were on golf carts screaming too. This is what it is all about.”
This moment was so big and so exhilarating for so many of us, combined with the utter elation and spontaneous wild celebrations that bridged every socioeconomic, political and racial divide for a welcome change, that it made it impossible to find the right words.
To be honest, it still does.
There is no doubt the Bucs’ bandwagon has never been more crowded since new stars Tom Brady and Rob Gronkowski arrived, and the team began to catch fire in the second half of the season and through four playoff games. That is perfectly fine and to be expected.
This moment was not quite “their” moment, though.
It was more for people like Barb, whom I had the pleasure of sitting beside for the second half of the game. Barb is “somewhere in my 50s,” a St. Petersburg native, and a life-long Bucs fan. For her, this one meant even more than the first Super Bowl we won 18 years ago.
Sitting on the other side of her was her son. He was just 10 in 2003, and now she could take him out and they could really watch the game together over wings and beers. You appreciate these moments as you get older.
This moment was also for the younger generation of die-hard fans, like the girl who brought her dog, Mila, complete with her own Bucs jersey. She’s younger than Barb’s son, and anyone who is not in their mid-to-late 20s or older may not even remember the first championship, much less have been able to properly bask in the moment.
This moment was for the nurses and health care workers around the area who have been serving on the front lines of the pandemic, including two fans from Moffitt Cancer Center in Tampa. They were among the 7,500 health care workers who were personally invited by the NFL.
This moment was for the first responders who grew up as fans here, who instead of celebrating with their friends were tasked with keeping all of us crazy swashbucklers safe. Not only did they somehow manage to keep us relatively safe, every police car, ambulance and fire truck that drove down the street was honking and screaming right along with the rest of us.
And, yes, that included ATVs and golf carts.
Not long after, several police cars with flashing lights approached but not to make an arrest. They were spontaneously blocking the roads so that people could spread out and not worry about the sudden influx of traffic, much of it vehicles driven by people who just wanted to slowly cruise by and honk and yell with their fellow fans.
We all had one thing in common that mattered that night: This was our moment.
Perhaps most importantly, this moment was for all those Bucs fans who did not make it to see it with us this past year.
For example, the Thursday before the Super Bowl a woman named Robyn Evans wrote on Twitter that she had written her recently deceased father’s obituary that day. He was a lifelong Buccaneers fan.
She wrote: “He will be cheering hard for the Bucs Sunday in the best seat in the house, in heaven.” She included a picture of the two in their creamsicle Bucs gear from the early days.
After the Super Bowl @RobyninFlorida succinctly wrote in all caps: “THEY DID IT DAD!!!”
They did it, indeed, and this was their moment.
As far as the game goes, it was defensive coordinator Todd Bowles and his squad’s moment.
Like most people, I predicted a shootout with Kansas City’s vaunted offensive attack and a 35-31 Bucs win. Tampa’s defense must have grown tired of hearing such predictions, as they stifled star quarterback Patrick Mahomes’ offense to no touchdowns and just three field goals.
This was the defense’s moment – a unit that looked eerily similar to the record setting defense of the 2003 championship team. It was stud young linebacker Devin White’s coming- out-to-the-world moment. It was all-everything quarterback Brady’s moment, winning an insane seventh championship at age 43.
It was Leonard “Playoff Lenny” Fournette’s moment, as he once again came through when the team needed him. It was Gronkowski’s moment, as Brady’s football bestie, who caught two big touchdowns.
Immediately after the game, microphones captured Brady running up to Gronkowski and exclaiming, “This is what we do!”
With the gleeful exuberance of a kid, Gronk shot back: “Two tuddies! I was saving them for the Super Bowl!”
This was their moment. This was our moment. This was the moment for everyone who is invested in this oft-beleaguered franchise. They did it. Relish in it.
