It’s Super Sunday. Please don’t be ‘that guy’

Note: This is a slightly updated version of a column that first appeared Feb. 1, 2020. The message remains the same.

Many of the greatest days of my life have been ruined because I was stupid enough to attend a Super Bowl party.

You know why? “That guy” is always there, and he’s usually surrounded by people who couldn’t tell Fred Biletnikoff from Jerry Rice if you spotted them the Stickum and the “Flash 80” towel.

“That guy” never shuts up. He spends the day loudly sharing his so-called expertise with all of the other people who usually pay no attention to football, but like to go to Super Bowl parties. That leads to chitchat and laughter and … noise. Way too much noise.

End result is, the people who actually came to the Super Bowl party to watch the Super Bowl can’t enjoy the game, because people who couldn’t tell Tom Landry from Bill Belichick if you spotted them the fedora and spy equipment are dominating the room. Even worse, the only time they seem interested in looking at the TV is during the commercials — which, amazingly enough, is the only time they shut up! The game comes back on, and they start talking again.

They’re also usually the first to whine about having to go to work the next morning. (So they call in sick, which at least spares the rest of us from listening to them talk about what a great time they had at the Super Bowl party.)

Anyway, “that guy” lives for moments such as these. You’d never have him in your home to watch a regular-season game; I’ll never understand why people are so eager to attend parties where “that guy” is going to ruin it for everybody else.

“That guy” came to my house in January 1985 when the 49ers were playing the Dolphins at Stanford Stadium. I’d never seen “that guy” before, and I never saw “that guy” again. He was a friend of a friend and, to this day, I’m not sure how he ended up at my house on Super Sunday. But he was, and I’ll never forgive our one-time mutual friend for allowing it to happen.

It was among the most glorious days to be a 49ers fan that ever existed. After getting almost all of the attention in the week before the game, Dan Marino and company were schooled by Joe Montana and the 49ers in one of the most lopsided Super Bowls in history.

The first time Marino tried to pass, he was hit by defensive lineman (and Corning native) Jeff Stover. “That guy” was off and running.

“(Bill) Walsh is ruining Stover,” that guy said. “If I had a player that big and fast, know what I’d do with him?”

I ignored the question in hopes that guy would shut up. It didn’t work.

“I’d put him at middle linebacker,” he continued, with the kind of self-impressed volume that suggested he’d consumed one too many Budweisers that morning. “And I’d use him at running back, too.”

I wanted to tell that guy, “Look: As great as Stover is, this isn’t 1926, and players aren’t going both ways anymore” — but, that would have required him to stop talking long enough for me to get 16 words in.

He didn’t. Not for the entire game. He talked about how Montana was overrated, Marino was going to shred the 49ers because Walsh was too stupid to put Stover at linebacker, the 49ers passed too often (“A real NFL team would run it in from the 3 instead of passing; that’s why they need to put Stover at fullback”) and, eventually, the time he tackled Stover in a Pop Warner game.

“I could have played, too, but I hurt my knee,” he noted, more than once.

Despite his thousands of expert opinions to the contrary, the 49ers won 38-16. Walsh never did put Stover in at fullback, and I didn’t get to enjoy a single minute of the game.

I vowed that day “that guy” would never ruin another Super Bowl for me. But he did. His shape and age and name and physical appearance morphed through the decades because, like a real-life bad Santa Claus, he can be in thousands of places at the same time, ruining it for everybody.

He won’t ruin this one. The Eagles-Chiefs game should be another good one, and I doubt I’ll watch it with anyone other than my family.

I’d encourage you to do the same, because these days, that guy could be anywhere. But if you must go to a party, please: Don’t drink and drive … and don’t be “that guy.”