How Super Bowl XIX Revolutionized The NFL Spectacle

More than four decades ago, the landscape of the NFL’s biggest stage changed forever, and it all began with a challenge at a humble, aging stadium in Palo Alto. On January 20, 1985, Super Bowl XIX unfolded at Stanford Stadium, a venue built in 1921 that would prove to be the unlikely birthplace of modern Super Bowl spectacle. Jim Steeg, then a meticulous NFL executive, was handed the daunting task of hosting the championship at a site lacking the glitz and amenities of its contemporaries. But what might have been a logistical nightmare instead became a catalyst for innovation, forever altering the DNA of America’s most-watched sporting event.

Steeg’s preparation for the big day was nothing short of exhaustive. Over the course of two years, he attended at least ten Stanford football games, studying every detail, from the flow of foot traffic to the antics of the irreverent Stanford band. It was during one of these halftime shows that Steeg realized the NFL’s long-standing tradition of featuring a local college band for the Super Bowl pregame had to go. “They did a tribute to, well, they came out and spelled ‘Coca-Cola,’” Steeg recalled. “Then they spelled ‘coke.’ And then they brought out a bunch of white balloons and formed a razor blade. So, yeah, I didn’t think that was going to be our pregame show.” That single performance forced the NFL to rethink its approach, marking the end of an era and the beginning of something much grander.

Stanford Stadium itself was a far cry from the state-of-the-art arenas that would later host the Super Bowl. With a seating capacity exceeding 84,000, it was chosen over Candlestick Park and the Oakland Coliseum, both of which were deemed too small. But the stadium’s wooden bleachers, lack of luxury suites, absence of lights, and no press-box elevator presented a laundry list of problems. The NFL responded by pouring $3.5 million into renovations, including a remodeled main entrance, new concession stands, and a modern ticket office. Still, some issues required more creative solutions. For instance, about 30 Stanford students were hired as runners to ferry equipment for media and VIPs, compensating for the lack of a press-box elevator.

And then there was the lighting. Stanford Stadium didn’t have any. Steeg, ever the planner, attended a Notre Dame-Michigan game—the first night game at Notre Dame Stadium—to study how temporary lights could be deployed. In 1984, Stanford even played a home night game as a test run. But as Steeg soon discovered, the eucalyptus trees ringing the stadium left walkways and parking lots in near-total darkness. “All of a sudden, you realized the Port-A-Potties don’t have lights,” he said. “That was a wake-up call with that one.” The NFL responded by installing more external lighting than they thought they’d need, ensuring fans wouldn’t be left fumbling in the dark.

The game itself saw the San Francisco 49ers, still in the early days of their dynasty, defeat the Miami Dolphins 38-16 for their second Super Bowl title. But this wasn’t just another championship—this was a turning point in how the Super Bowl was conceived and delivered. With the Bay Area’s reputation for cutting-edge technology, it was only fitting that the event would inspire a wave of innovations. To ease traffic congestion caused by the stadium’s two one-lane access roads, Steeg introduced corporate VIP tents, hoping to lure fans to arrive hours early. The drab stadium walls were dressed up with industrial-sized banners and flags, and every seat was topped with a sponsored cushion—featuring Apple’s iconic rainbow-colored logo, no less. These touches would become staples of the Super Bowl experience for years to come.

Steeg’s vision didn’t stop at game day. Seven years later, the architect and decorator he’d hired for Stanford would help create the first “NFL Experience,” a theme park-style attraction in the host city, now known as the “Super Bowl Experience.” This week, that tradition continues at the Moscone Center, a testament to the seeds planted in Palo Alto all those years ago.

Under Steeg’s stewardship, the Super Bowl grew from a major American sporting event into a global phenomenon. The cost of a 30-second commercial soared from $275,000 to $2.5 million, while ticket prices rocketed from $30 to $600. The event’s halftime and pregame entertainment underwent a revolution as well. In 1985, a group of local children’s choirs sang the national anthem, and the halftime show featured Tops in Blue, an Air Force ensemble. By 1993, the halftime performer was none other than Michael Jackson, and the national anthem was sung by Billy Joel just a few years after the Stanford game. “Now you have two events happening on Super Bowl Sunday—there’s the game and halftime,” observed former 49ers president Carmen Policy. “They’re two separate events and our audience changes dramatically during halftime. So it’s staggering.”

The 49ers, meanwhile, enjoyed the comforts of home, practicing at their Redwood City facility and staying at a familiar hotel in Burlingame. For Hall of Fame safety Ronnie Lott, the local flavor made the experience unforgettable. “When you were driving on the street, your neighbors and everybody could touch you and feel you,” Lott said. “That’s what made that Super Bowl so amazing because you can feel the city. And a lot of places where you go, you don’t feel it. You’re practicing it, but you’re not feeling it. … I think it was even more sentimental than anything I’ve ever done in my life.”

But not everyone was thrilled with the arrangements. Chiefs owner Lamar Hunt, seated on a wooden bench with just an Apple seat cushion for comfort, reportedly turned to his wife and said, “Never again.” The absence of luxury suites and on-site locker rooms was glaring, but the NFL’s willingness to adapt and innovate in the face of adversity set a new standard for future championships.

Steeg, who would go on to oversee 26 Super Bowls as NFL senior vice president, credits Super Bowl XIX as the game that changed everything. “It was one of the most important games we ever did,” he said. “It changed everything we did. In a lot of ways for me, it gave me more confidence, more independence, about everything. It made me understand that this was more than just 60 minutes of football. … The focus had been on everything that happens on game day. And then it changed.”

Today, the Super Bowl is as much about the spectacle as it is about the sport, a fact that can be traced back to that chilly January day in Palo Alto. As the Bay Area prepares to host its third Super Bowl, the legacy of Stanford Stadium and the innovations born of necessity continue to shape the NFL’s crown jewel. It’s a reminder that sometimes, the greatest leaps forward come from the most unlikely places—and the boldest imaginations.