Super Bowl diary: Inside a workday at the biggest game on earth

9 a.m. — San Francisco

I left the hotel in downtown San Francisco packed with nervous energy, trying to force the butterflies to fly in formation. Five blocks on foot through the historic streets of an iconic American West city took me past the Powell Street cable car line and toward the first media bus of the day.

Onboard were journalists from around the globe, all here to cover the largest spectacle in sports. The bus crawled through city streets, then rolled onto US 101 S. toward Santa Clara and Levi’s Stadium.

My mind stayed locked on my gear. Too late to run back to the hotel, so I checked again and again: phones, laptop, charging cables, video camera, microphones, earbuds. No Seahawks gear. Just a green polo shirt, the best I could do. In the media box, cheering is frowned upon. That’s part of the job.

10 a.m. — Arrival

After navigating a maze of roadblocks, police checkpoints, and closed intersections, we stepped off the bus into a sunny, warm day. Temperatures would climb to around 70 degrees by kickoff.

The stadium was wrapped in Super Bowl branding, including a massive scrim of quarterback Sam Darnold at one entrance. My thoughts shifted to another checklist —the workload. The night before, I’d written it all down. Three drafts, radio stories, web stories, social posts, network hits, and whatever stories might pop up in between.

Being here is a rush, but it’s also work. In fact, more work than anything else. It’s the best assignment, the kind journalists live for. Fast-moving, sometimes uncontrollable, but fueled by adrenaline.

Security screening felt like boarding a flight. Metal detectors, bags tagged, and media credentials scanned. A tiny screen showed my face next to the photo on my pass. They matched, and I was in.

10:30 a.m. — Fan experience

The NFL’s Super Bowl fan experience outside Levi’s Stadium was nearly empty at first, with workers putting on the final touches. Moments later, the gates opened, and fans poured in.

Thousands of football fans from across the country descended on the Bay Area this week for Super Bowl LX, and early scenes at official NFL events were awash in blue and green.

The fan zone transformed a sprawling parking lot into a celebration of interactive exhibits, games, and memorabilia. When the gates opened, Seahawks fans — the 12s — vastly outnumbered Patriots fans, erupting over and over into chants of “SEA … HAWKS.”

Seattle fans dominated autograph lines and displays. Former Seattle Mayor Jenny Durkan was spotted in the crowd.

“I’m a huge Seahawks fan — went to the first game in 1976,” Durkan said. “We’re here to win, and I’m wearing my redemption T-shirt. Marshawn Lynch, we remember you. The guys are going to do it.”

Patriots fans were present too, with organized rallies and watch parties planned in San Francisco. But the volume and energy of Seahawks supporters stood out across official Super Bowl spaces, fan zones, and in San Jose, where the team had stayed and practiced all week.

For many, the trip was as much about community as the game.

“Coming through the gate, we were jumping up and down,” said one fan wearing Seahawks overalls, no shirt, and tattoos covering his arms and chest. “This is our first Super Bowl, and we’re so excited the Hawks are here.”

12:30 p.m. — Media tent

After days of walking and standing, no sitting at all, I tracked down the most efficient route to the NFL’s media work tent just outside the stadium. Lunch came in a box. A turkey-and-pesto sandwich, an apple, and a lot of water. Warmer than the damp Seattle weather I’d left days earlier.

I wrote two web stories, including parts of this one, and edited several videos while watching the clock. I wanted at least 90 minutes to settle into the auxiliary media center: the last rows of several sections on the 200 level, right in front of the suites. Tables, power strips, Super Bowl programs, and more sandwiches. The media are treated well on this day.

3 p.m. — Kickoff approaches

The national anthem and flyover hit on schedule.

Social media turned furious. As much as I could get out, I did. One guiding thought stayed with me: how to share the most memorable moments in real time. Those moments shifted back and forth from what was happening on the field or across the stadium from my view and the lenses on my two mobile phones, a small portable video camera, and what and how fans right next to me were experiencing themselves.

From the 200 level, my view couldn’t compete with TV angles, but that’s never the goal. The hope is to show a different perspective. Maybe for someone who can’t watch, or who wants to feel what it was like inside the building. I reminded myself to tell my world, just like this diary.

One thing was immediately clear: this felt like a home game.

When the Seahawks took the field after warmups, the noise was deafening. Not quite Lumen Field, but close. The stadium was a sea of blue and action green everywhere except the smaller section behind the Patriots’ bench. The 12s came to be heard, and they were.

Halftime

A few minutes before halftime, hunger hit again. The NFL feeds media throughout Super Bowl Sunday — a thank-you for covering the show.

Down the stairs and around a corner: box sandwiches, Pepsi (a Super Bowl sponsor), and hot food — hamburgers and hot dogs. I grabbed a burger and a Pepsi.

Bad Bunny’s halftime show played differently from our seats. We couldn’t see many of the TV camera angles inside the maze of the set. One thing we did notice: every “plant” on the field was actually a person dressed as a plant. The reason, we were told, was that the NFL limits the number of solid set pieces allowed on the field to protect the grass.

Always hunting for a unique angle, I noticed something else — everyone was dancing. Fans and reporters. That was a story, even if only for a few social posts.

Second half

If the game ever slipped into cruise control, this was it. My assignment wasn’t X’s and O’s. It was people. I knew their stories would arrive whether the Seahawks won or lost.

More social media followed, including a video of a streaker that never appeared on TV.

End of game

One of the hardest disciplines in journalism is sticking to the assignment instead of the moment.

With 1:30 left in the fourth quarter, I walked down the stairs in my section and turned my camera and microphone toward Mike and John, who are friends and lifelong Seahawks fans. I watched them wrestle with every delayed moment of victory. They had waited more than a decade for this.

As much as my heart wanted to watch the final whistle, my journalist mind convinced me to stay the course. I pointed my camera, my radio microphone, and my full attention toward them. I got the shot and the audio. That’s the job. Capture the moment, preserve it, and share it so others can feel the tears, the embraces, the cheers. And if that means you miss it, well, you miss it.

As an example, how many times have you recorded something on your phone camera, but instead of remaining locked in on the viewfinder, you looked up? And when you went back to watch what you recorded, heads were cut off, out of focus, or you just missed it altogether. Been there, done that. But that is the discipline. The wretched, unforgiving, not nice, at times, discipline.

I told myself I could always go home and watch the game from start to finish later — a different way to relive it.

Postgame

The moment the game ended, I ping-ponged from fan to fan in the stands.

How do you feel right now? Can we finally forget that interception in Super Bowl XLIX? What do you want to say to the 12s back home?

Same and similar questions on the concourse. Same again in the lower bowl. I shared the moment as Coach Mike Macdonald hoisted the Lombardi Trophy.

When interviews ended, I pulled out a yellow legal pad and started jotting notes on top of a now-covered food stand, slightly damp, unfortunately. Arrows, numbers, and fragments. A roadmap for what to say first and where to drop in sound.

I turned on my microphone and recorded my narration right there. It’s always better where the story happens. A clean voice track against noisy interviews would sound wrong. This way, the moment lived inside the audio.

CBS News and KIRO Newsradio. Short versions or long versions. The sooner, the better. Producers, bosses, and listeners were waiting.

Go, go, go.

Bus ride back

On the nearly hour-long ride back to San Francisco, there wasn’t a second to lose. I cut the sound on my phone. Next to me, print reporters typed. TV crews edited video. No one wasted a moment.

Between soundbites, I called home. My wife was at a Super Bowl party and fired off a few texts. Even on deadline, you try to share the moment like any other fan.

Back at the hotel

A colleague and I promised each other an ice-cold beer at the hotel bar while we edited and filed. But last call came early — 11 p.m.

Judging by half-eaten plates of chicken wings, lipstick-stained glassware, and the exhausted staff, the bar’s Super Bowl had already peaked.

You don’t have to go home, but you can’t stay here.

Up in my room, I transcribed interview audio I’d edited on the bus, turning sound into quotes, quotes into structure. An hour later, a draft became a finished story for MyNorthwest.com. The sound bites became stories for Monday morning’s Seattle’s Morning News.

Off to bed for a 4:30 a.m. wake-up to polish the morning’s news hits and get coffee, lots of coffee.

Another Super Bowl in the books. Another day chasing moments. And I hope the Seahawks repeat, because I’d love to do it all over again.

Follow Luke Duecy on X. Read more of his stories here. Submit news tips here.