When I was a kid, the AFL and NFL were rival leagues, separate and perhaps equal, but there was too much bad blood to find out. Then in 1967, I heard they would play against each other for the first time and I asked my dad to get tickets to the “championship game” for my 15th birthday. We arrived at the one-quarter empty L.A. colosseum to watch the Green Bay Packers play the Kansas City Chiefs in what was to become later known as Superbowl 1.
The most amazing spectacle preceded the game, two men, dressed as football players flew around the stadium using rockets strapped to their backs. I was convinced that any year now, we all be flying around. 
Then the game began, It was close for a while, but Bart Starr was too good as was Max McGee, and a second string end who, not thinking he’d get in the game, was painfully hung over from partying the night before in Hollywood.
One memory that only became significant later was that at the start of the second half, the teams kicked off, some players fell on each other, the refs blew a whistle and then they kicked off again. It didn’t seem like much at the time, but what had happened was that the NFL was on CBS and the AFL was on NBC and they weren’t back from commercials yet. So they asked the teams to kick off again. It was the first time a sporting event didn’t count unless it was televised. Sports had become a television show. Super indeed.
