Buffalo wings that glow like little orange embers. Dips with more layers than an Agatha Christie novel. When millions of eyes aren’t plastered to a screen on Super Bowl Sunday, they are drastically overestimating just how much can be crammed into their owners’ stomachs.
The night of Feb. 2 was the biggest stage not only for football, but for all the world’s messiest hors d'oeuvres. Yet the San Francisco 49ers demonstrated that no matter how enticing the salty, spicy smorgasbord, a Super Bowl party's true strength lies in the oft-overlooked veggie tray.
Sure, a platter of crudités is never the centerpiece of the game day festivities. Raw cauliflower and ranch dressing cannot hope to contend with pulled pork sliders.
A similar logic applies to football, where skill players with eye-popping stats receive far more attention than the blockers who make those numbers possible.
Audiences spent the better part of the 2019-20 NFL season fawning over flashy names like quarterbacks Patrick Mahomes and Jimmy Garoppolo. And frankly, who could blame them?
Mahomes seems to redefine the sport each time he takes a snap, and Garoppolo is finally proving why he was drafted by Patriots head coach Bill Belichick as the heir apparent to the irreplaceable Tom Brady.
However, it was quickly evident that the story of Super Bowl LIV was to be written with the tape-bound hands of the linemen. After one quarter, Mahomes and Garoppolo had combined for a paltry 69 yards through the air.
Garoppolo’s wideouts were blanketed like cocktail sausages in crescent rolls, forcing him to rely on previously unsung heroes. The 49ers’ first touchdown came courtesy of fullback Kyle Juszczyk, a man with more z’s in his last name than scores in the regular season.
In the case of the Chiefs, it was not until the fourth quarter that Mahomes found the end zone with his arm, a one-yard toss to tight end Travis Kelce.
Though the contest’s final fifteen minutes were governed by Kansas City, San Francisco previously appeared to be in complete control. Mahomes was too busy trying to outrun defensive end Nick Bosa to focus downfield, causing errant underthrows and a pair of wince-inducing interceptions.
Then, with just over eight minutes of play remaining, it was as if the oven dinged to signify that the onion rings within had just achieved perfectly golden, flaky exteriors. Two drives and 14 points later, Kansas City was up 24-20. Garoppolo and company were suddenly on the inside of the pressure cooker.
Here San Francisco made its fatal mistake. Despite its success with the run and mid-range passing, head coach Kyle Shanahan’s troop instead sought chunk plays and home run balls. A tremendous weight was placed upon the San Francisco offensive line.
It boils down to a simple culinary equation. Whether it is due to runny salsa or melted cheese with insufficient stretch, even the tastiest nachos risk utter ruin when the tortilla chips are not up to the task. No amount of flavor or flare can compensate for a faulty foundation.
It was in these waning moments that the 49ers needed its big men the most. Instead, Garoppolo was mercilessly harassed by a swarm of red. On two consecutive plays, his passes were swatted at the line of scrimmage by Chiefs defensive tackle Chris Jones.
Garoppolo never had time to work any magic, and things got sloppy. The nachos crumbled, and Shanahan was left thinking wistfully of the relish plate left saran-wrapped in the refrigerator.
After all, no matter how dense the spinach and artichoke concoction into which it is dipped, a hearty celery stalk will remain sturdy. When San Francisco removed that reliable greenery from its menu, it cost it dearly.
Mahomes was rightfully named the Most Valuable Player once his heroics ultimately sealed victory for the Chiefs. But there never would have been room on the table for a comeback if the 49ers had not forgotten the one truth that has endured throughout the Super Bowl’s 54-year history.
When the chips are down, be they ruffled or kettle-cooked, you simply can’t afford to forget the veggie tray.
