By Brian Murphy
So the city and county of San Francisco shined like a diamond during Super Bowl week?
As the late City poet laureate Herb Caen might have said: No duh.
Actually, Caen would have penned an ode to the quiet of Sunday morning fog, or the distant clang of a cable car bell late on a winter night, or the furtive glance a lover gave across a dark North Beach bar.
I’m not a poet laureate, so I say to the nation’s media that stomped into our fair city with exaggerated narratives and predisposed notions — may you exit on little cat feet, smiling at your memories of our bustle, our beauty and our buzz.
Yes, the actual football game called Super Bowl 60 is in Santa Clara, Calif. It’s near an electrical substation, to boot. That’s another topic for another day.
The central hub of Super Bowl week was in San Francisco, not the former fruit orchards of the 408. Nothing against the former fruit orchards of the 408 — my parents graduated from Mountain View High School and my grandparents lived out their final days in the same homes my parents grew up in, not too far from Levi’s Stadium. The former fruit orchards of the 408 are a proud part of the Bay Area.
But that’s not The City.
And when the NFL laid out “Radio Row” and the Pro Bowl events and the NFL Fan Experience, it chose Moscone Center, placing the thousands of media members smack in downtown San Francisco.
San Francisco accepted the challenge. Game on.
By Friday, victory belonged squarely to the city of Mark Twain, Turk Murphy and Joe Montana.
And when I say victory, I don’t mean unanimous. Nothing is unanimous, as I was just saying to the Montana-Tom Brady GOAT argument. There were media members and pundits who chose to find a few downtrodden blocks of San Francisco, and generalize. Fine. That’s the path they choose, and emphasis they want to present. You can’t win ‘em all.
On the other hand, my general experience was encountering visitor after visitor discovering what we’ve known all along: That San Francisco, California can stand toe-to-toe with any city in the world when it comes to heartbeat, feel and staggering natural beauty.
I mean, the type of staggering natural beauty in a metropolitan setting that blows most any competitor away. Paris is the City of Light, and as flat as Modesto. New York City is of course New York City, one of the all time greats. I’ve never been to Tokyo or Seoul or Singapore, but I imagine they can throw some haymakers.
But most every first-time visitor here for the Super Bowl could not believe the mild February air, the curve of the Embarcadero, the international orange of the Golden Gate Bride and the hum of the streets.
I’m going to credit two of the newer media companies for much of this. Outlets like Barstool Sports and Bussin’ With the Boys are wildly popular with the under-30 crowd, a group of kids discovering life and travel as they make their way through their 20s. For many of their reporters and fans, it was a first-time visit to San Francisco — and social media post after social media post paid compliment after compliment to the burritos of La Taqueria or the sandwiches of Deli Board or walks across the bridge or views from Potrero Hill or pizza in Hayes Valley or fun bars in North Beach.
Again: no duh.
If you’ve lived here all your life, you know. And you also know that anti-San Francisco screeds and narratives and social media replies — “NOW SHOW THE HUMAN FECES JUST OUTSIDE THE JOCK BLOG HQ, A-HOLE” — are more to be pitied then censured, as my Dad used to say.
My bride and I went to the Legends for Charity/St. Jude Hospital dinner at the Marriott Marquis on Thursday night. Our route took us down Bush St, looking to make a right on Montgomery. Traffic was, of course, a thing. But instead of grinding my molars, I used the stall in movement to gaze at the front windows of Le Central, or the alley of the Irish Bank, or a neat-looking new joint called Key Klub. People moved everywhere. At the corner of Bush and Montgomery, so many pedestrians crossed in front of us, I said out loud: “Man . . . this feels like the 1990s.” I was younger then, living in The City, always knowing I lived in the best and most beautiful place in the world. Back then, there were no politically-charged news stations or social media posts fueling angry narratives. Back then, people just knew San Francisco was one of the most boss cities on the globe and chose not to take sides about it.
Times change. Drug and homeless crises worsen, and real-life problems plague a city. No one is denying that. The right guy is now in charge, it appears —a common-sense mayor who acknowledges the low points, and wants smart solutions to get better. Let’s go, San Francisco, indeed, Mayor Dan Lurie. Still lots of work to do, but Super Bowl week came and San Francisco glistened and people thought to themselves: Wow, there is tons of great food and scenery and architecture and varied neighborhoods all over this great city. Cool, man.
Yeah. It is cool.
We’re mighty proud of it.
The City.
Wouldn’t change it for anywhere on Earth. And we’re glad you enjoyed yourselves. Come back anytime.
