You Think the Super Bowl is Tough for the Teams? Try Working It as a Cop

Last Sunday’s Super Bowl contest between the New Orleans Saints and Indianapolis Colts reminded me of when I wore a uniform as a Pasadena Police Officer and worked Super Bowl XVII in 1983. The Washington Redskins beat the Miami Dolphins 27-17, but I didn’t get to see much of the game. I was busy. In comparison to policing college football games where the well-mannered fans are alumnus out to show school spirit, Super Bowl fans act like raging maniacs who don’t expect to live to see tomorrow. Before the game began, I saw a crowd gathering around a man in the parking lot. He was attracting a lot of attention, and for good reason. I walked up behind him and saw him selling scalped tickets. The crowd got quiet at my presence. When the man turned around and saw me, I could hear him gulp. I told him that selling tickets at the event site was in violation of a city ordinance, unless he sold them at face value. He was given the option to do that, or go to jail. He reluctantly decided to sell the tickets and the crowd broke out in adulation. I made a lot of new friends that day. Later, I stood inside one of the gates as the crowd entered the stadium. I remember seeing Goldie Hawn’s face pressed against the chain linked fence as the crowd poured into the stadium. Within seconds, a man tapped me on the shoulder and said he just witnessed a man reach into a woman’s purse. With so many people filing in to the stadium, we couldn’t distinguish where the woman went. However, he could identify the thief, whom I quickly handcuffed. When I searched him, the only thing he had on his person was a return Greyhound bus ticket to Chicago in a sock. He was obviously a professional pick pocket. I booked him at the Rose Bowl police substation, and after the game was over, I cut him loose without filing charges. The Rose Bowl is the largest outdoor arena in the world. At half-time, 105,000 people had to urinate. Men peed on the restrooms as well as inside of them. As a deterrent, I sprayed Mace just below eye level on the outside walls. It was amusing to see uncouth grown men cry as they relieved themselves. When I caught a man and his son peeing on a hot dog cart, I escorted them to the gate to eject them. The father said, “I gotta ticket, you can’t throw me outta here.” I gave him an offer he couldn’t refuse: Leave or go to jail. He chose the former. My assignment was for my partner and me to walk a portion of the concourse at one of the end zones with strict instructions not to enter the stadium. Other officers and NFL security were there, and the on-scene police commander didn’t want us leaving our designated areas to sneak a peek of the game. One of the teams scored a touchdown, and the extra point kick went beyond the reach of the net used to capture the ball and went into the crowd. According to an NFL security guy who ran up to us, losing a game ball is a big deal and he desperately needed to get it back. I had already given two other people an offer they couldn’t refuse, so this was becoming routine. How wrong I was. We descended the steep concrete steps at the end zone. As we came into view of the many fans, the crowd magically bonded. They knew exactly why we were there. The hostile crowd roared and waved their hats and programs in our faces to block our view. Other fans got into a fighting stance and yelled obscenities. Many were drunk, and others were halfway there. I was hoping that a television camera wasn’t zooming in on me and my partner trying to get that damn football back, all in the view of our commander who had a clear view of the stadium from the press booth. In my entire law enforcement career, that was the only time I ever retreated and told my partner, “Don’t appear nervous, but let’s slowly turn around and get the hell out of here!” When we did, the crowd roared all the louder. I’m glad the Saints won the game, and I know exactly what Miami-Dade police officers went through with all those courteous New Orleans fans attending the game.