Culture
How a Super Bowl blackout in New Orleans nearly altered Ravens and 49ers history
“This is Steve Tasker, sideline reporter for the Super Bowl 47. If you’re expecting to hear our friend Jim Nantz, it may be a moment before he gets on.”
When the audio of Super Bowl XLVII between the San Francisco 49ers and Baltimore Ravens suddenly cut out early in the third quarter on Feb. 3, 2013, the millions watching the CBS broadcast might have suspected something was amiss.
When Tasker, assigned to work the 49ers sideline, was the first voice anyone heard, it was confirmed. There was no power in the broadcast booth, elevators and escalators ground to a halt and so did the game — for 34 minutes.
“Half the power in New Orleans stadium, the Superdome here, is out,” Tasker announced to the world.
For some Ravens players, the stoppage was suspicious. Jacoby Jones had returned the second-half kickoff 108 yards for a touchdown, Baltimore was leading 28-6 and the Ravens had just sacked 49ers quarterback Colin Kaepernick on second down. The Super Bowl was about to be a rout and then the lights went out? Linebacker Ray Lewis smelled a rat.
“You cannot tell me someone wasn’t sitting there, and when they say, ‘The Ravens (are) about to blow them out. Man, we better do something,’” he said in an interview for NFL Films’ “America’s Game” later that year. “That’s a huge shift in any game, in all seriousness.”
The actual explanation was more mundane. A newly installed device called a relay automatically cut power to the stadium when the amperage hit a certain level because the factory settings were too low.
Entergy, the local electric company, vows that won’t happen Sunday when the Super Bowl returns to New Orleans for the first time in 12 years. The company no longer uses the equipment responsible for the blackout, there are better redundancies for electrical flow and the stadium has hosted more than a decade of New Orleans Saints games and concerts since without incident.
GO DEEPER
From Super Bowls to ‘last resort,’ Michael Jordan to ‘No mas,’ the Superdome has seen it all
Those concerts, significantly, have included Beyonce, whose halftime show in 2013 preceded the blackout, and Taylor Swift, who brought 200,000 fans to the Caesars Superdome over three nights in October.
“Some called that weekend the ultimate tabletop exercise,” Entergy said in a statement.
While the 49ers laugh at Lewis’ conspiracy theory — “We had the same delay they did,” offensive tackle Joe Staley said — there’s no question they benefited from the reset.
They barrelled into their locker room at halftime intent on fixing everything that had gone wrong in the first half, quickly going over the tactical changes they’d make. Then they had nowhere to go.
A Super Bowl halftime is twice as long as a regular-season version and because there was so much staging equipment, the players couldn’t get onto the field. Instead, they were cooped up in the locker room.
The 49ers note that the Ravens got away with a holding penalty against fullback Bruce Miller on Jones’ kick-return touchdown to start the third quarter. But there also was a sense that the long halftime had an effect.
“I remember coach (Jim) Harbaugh coming up and asking, ‘Were we warmed up?’” the 49ers strength coach at the time, Mark Uyeyama, recalled. “And I go, ‘Uhhh — clearly (Jones) was.’”
The 49ers then ran two plays — a 29-yard pass to Michael Crabtree and a 3-yard run by Frank Gore — before Kaepernick was sacked by Arthur Jones. Following that play, color commentator Phil Simms was in mid-sentence when the broadcast went silent at 7:37 p.m. local time.
The 49ers had the ball trailing 28-6 when the power suddenly went out in the Superdome. (Dilip Vishwanat / Getty Images)
An attack? A shooter? Those thoughts flashed through everyone’s mind. The Sandy Hook shooting had happened a month and a half earlier and the 49ers had been on hand at a game in New England where the victims were remembered.
“The first thing that went through my head is an act of terrorism,” then-49ers offensive coordinator Greg Roman said. “And what’s coming next? First, they cut the power. And now what? My whole family’s there.”
“I honestly thought it was a terrorist attack initially,” said Wink Martindale, then the Ravens’ inside linebackers coach. “You just didn’t know. Right away, you’re looking up where you know your family is sitting and everything else to make sure everyone was OK.”
After a few moments, those thoughts dissipated. There was an initial groan from the crowd, but there was no panic or commotion. The Superdome was quiet.
“To their credit, everyone remained calm,” Tasker said in a phone interview.
“Why is the clock stopped?”
Throwback to the lights going out during Ravens vs. 49ers in Super Bowl XLVII 💡😳 pic.twitter.com/BD5qbuhjmq
— NFL Films (@NFLFilms) December 25, 2023
He said everyone’s first task was to find out what happened and how long the game would be delayed. The sideline reporters had stopped using wireless microphones six years earlier during rainy Super Bowl XLI because those mics had gone out. Tasker had a cable attached to his mic in New Orleans that stretched only as far as the numbers on the field. The league officials he wanted to interview were safely huddled at midfield and didn’t want to be interviewed on camera. So he strolled to midfield, got as much information as he could, then was approached by Jim Harbaugh on his way back to the sideline.
“He wanted to know what they told me,” Tasker said.
The 49ers had an advantage in that they’d gone through something similar the year before when a transformer blew outside of Candlestick Park, causing two delays during a “Monday Night Football” game against the Pittsburgh Steelers. Uyeyama said he reminded players how well they’d handled that wait on the sideline.
“We were better prepared than we were against Pittsburgh,” Uyeyama said. “And we’d put (Ben) Roethlisberger on his back all game. So we were walking around and communicating with the guys, ‘Remember, Pittsburgh.’”
The teams initially were told the game would resume in about 15 minutes and that everyone should remain on the field. They heard the same refrain — 15 minutes — when they checked in later.
“The longer it went, you had to get yourself back in coaching mode,” Martindale said. “It was like, ‘Holy s—, we have to start stretching.’ We knew we were in trouble. I know analytics say there’s no such thing as momentum, but that’s bulls—. The lights going out changed the momentum of the game. We were killing them when the lights went out. We had an older team than them and it really took us a while to get loose again and get going.”
Said 49ers safety Donte Whitner: “Football is a game based on momentum. And whenever you have a lull like that, it’s a good opportunity for the team that’s not playing well to regroup and recover.”
He said linebackers Patrick Willis and NaVorro Bowman discussed strategy. Justin Smith, the elder statesman of the defense, made sure everyone stayed focused and calm.
“I remember vividly hearing Dashon Goldson continue to say, ‘Not today. Not today. We’re too good. We’re too great of a defense,’” Whitner recalled. “And what he was referring to was, ‘Let’s not make the simple mistakes that will beat us.’”
The blackout officially last 34 minutes and seemed to lead to a huge momentum swing for the 49ers. (Jamie Squire / Getty Images)
On offense, Roman made only a quick visit to the locker room at halftime. The 49ers had scored only two field goals at that point and he needed to rework the entire game plan. Roman spoke briefly to the players, then approached Harbaugh.
“I just said, ‘Hey, Jim, I’ve gotta get upstairs and get things figured out,’” Roman said.
He was back in the coach’s booth before Beyonce began her show and felt good about the alterations he’d made.
“Then they returned the kickoff and it was like the price of poker has changed even greater,” Roman said. “It was like, ‘Oh my God. Now we’re in quite a hole.’”
He made even more adjustments after the stadium lost power. The radio headsets connecting him and defensive coordinator Vic Fangio to the sideline didn’t work and in fact were one of the last things to come online before the game resumed.
So Roman bounced plays and ideas off of receivers coach John Morton. The 49ers would run the ball occasionally to keep Lewis and the Ravens defense honest. Otherwise, they’d attack through the air.
“We were gonna be ultra-aggressive,” Roman said. “We had so much talent on the team, it was only a matter of time.”
He was right. The 49ers punted immediately after play resumed but scored on a 31-yard Kaepernick-to-Crabtree pass when they got the ball back. Then they scored on their next three possessions, cutting Baltimore’s lead to 31-29 with just under 10 minutes to play. It was as if the blackout had created two distinct games.
“It was like a track meet from that point forward,” Roman said.
But while the Ravens scored once more — on a Justin Tucker 38-yard field goal — the 49ers offense got bogged down deep in the red zone in the final minutes.
San Francisco seemed to have a great shot for a go-ahead touchdown after Gore’s 33-yard run to the 7-yard line with 2:39 to go. That carry, however, left Gore — one of the best short-yardage runners in the NFL — winded and his replacement, LaMichael James, was stopped for a 2-yard gain on first down.
A quarterback keeper that likely would have scored a touchdown was wiped out when Jim Harbaugh called a timeout to avoid a play-clock violation. When the last of three throws to Crabtree in the corner of the end zone sailed over the receiver’s head, the Ravens knew they had finally halted San Francisco’s momentum and hung on for the win.
“If we would have lost that game, I would have walked away saying, ‘It was because the power went out and the long delay,’” Martindale said. “We were just killing them otherwise.”
Said Roman: “Unfortunately, it just wasn’t enough. That was a bizarre day in our lives, for sure.”
Despite being the lone face and the voice for the Super Bowl broadcast for a few uncertain minutes, Tasker said he didn’t receive much attention following the game. Instead, his phone started blowing up six days later when “Saturday Night Live” — with Taran Killam playing Tasker — spoofed the blackout with a cold open.
“That’s when I knew I’d finally made it,” Tasker said with a laugh.
(Top photo: Dilip Vishwanat / Getty Images)
Culture
What Happens When We Die? This Wallace Stevens Poem Has Thoughts.
Whatever you do, don’t think of a bird.
Now: What kind of bird are you not thinking about? A pigeon? A bald eagle? Something more poetic, like a skylark or a nightingale? In any case, would you say that this bird you aren’t thinking about is real?
Before you answer, read this poem, which is quite literally about not thinking of a bird.
Human consciousness is full of riddles. Neuroscientists, philosophers and dorm-room stoners argue continually about what it is and whether it even exists. For Wallace Stevens, the experience of having a mind was a perpetual source of wonder, puzzlement and delight — perfectly ordinary and utterly transcendent at the same time. He explored the mysteries and pleasures of consciousness in countless poems over the course of his long poetic career. It was arguably his great theme.
Stevens was born in 1879 and published his first book, “Harmonium,” in 1923, making him something of a late bloomer among American modernists. For much of his adult life, he worked as an executive for the Hartford Accident and Indemnity Company, rising to the rank of vice president. He viewed insurance less as a day job to support his poetry than as a parallel vocation. He pursued both activities with quiet diligence, spending his days at the office and composing poems in his head as he walked to and from work.
As a young man, Stevens dreamed of traveling to Europe, though he never crossed the Atlantic. In middle age he made regular trips to Florida, and his poems are frequently infused with ideas of Paris and Rome and memories of Key West. Others partake of the stringent beauty of New England. But the landscapes he explores, wintry or tropical, provincial or cosmopolitan, are above all mental landscapes, created by and in the imagination.
Are those worlds real?
Let’s return to the palm tree and its avian inhabitant, in that tranquil Key West sunset of the mind.
Until then, we find consolation in fangles.
Culture
Wil Wheaton Discusses ‘Stand By Me’ and Narrating ‘The Body’ Audiobook
When the director Rob Reiner cast his leads in the 1986 film “Stand by Me,” he looked for young actors who were as close as possible to the personalities of the four children they’d be playing. There was the wise beyond his years kid from a rough family (River Phoenix), the slightly dim worrywart (Jerry O’Connell), the cutup with a temper (Corey Feldman) and the sensitive, bookish boy.
Wil Wheaton was perfect for that last one, Gordie Lachance, a doe-eyed child who is ignored by his family in favor of his late older brother. Now, 40 years later, he’s traveling the country to attend anniversary screenings of the film, alongside O’Connell and Feldman, which has thrown him back into the turmoil that he felt as an adolescent.
Wheaton has channeled those emotions and his on-set memories into his latest project: narrating a new audiobook version of “The Body,” the 1982 Stephen King novella on which the film was based.
A few years ago, Wheaton started to float the idea of returning to the story that gave him his big break — that of a quartet of boys in 1959 Oregon, in their last days before high school, setting out to find a classmate’s dead body. “I’ve been telling the story of ‘Stand By Me’ since I was 12 years old,” he said.
But this time was different. Wheaton, who has narrated dozens of audiobooks, including Andy Weir’s “The Martian” and Ernest Cline’s “Ready Player One,” says he has come to enjoy narration more than screen acting. “I’m safe, I’m in the booth, nobody’s looking at me and I can just tell you a story.”
The fact that he, an older man looking back on his younger years, is narrating a story about an older man looking back on his younger years, is not lost on Wheaton. King’s original story is bathed in nostalgia. Coming to terms with death and loss is one of its primary themes.
Two days after appearing on stage at the Academy Awards as part of a tribute to Reiner — who was murdered in 2025 alongside his wife, Michele — Wheaton got on the phone to talk about recording the audiobook, reliving his favorite scenes from the film and reexamining a quintessential story of childhood loss through the lens of his own.
This interview has been edited and condensed.
“I felt really close to him, and my memory of him.”
Wheaton on channeling a co-star’s performance.
There’s this wonderful scene in “Stand By Me.” Gordie and Chris are walking down the tracks talking about junior high. Chris is telling Gordie, “I wish to hell I was your dad, because I care about you, and he obviously doesn’t.”
It’s just so honest and direct, in a way that kids talk to each other that adults don’t. And I think that one of the reasons that really sticks with people, and that piece really lands on a lot of audiences, and has for 40 years, is, just too many people have been Gordie in that scene.
That scene is virtually word for word taken from the text of the book. And when I was narrating that, I made a deliberate choice to do my best to recreate what River did in that scene.
“You’re just a kid,
Gordie–”
“I wish to fuck
I was your father!”
he said angrily.
“You wouldn’t go around
talking about takin those stupid shop courses if I was!
It’s like
God gave you something,
all those stories
you can make up, and He said:
This is what we got for you, kid.
Try not to lose it.
But kids lose everything
unless somebody looks out for them and if your folks
are too fucked up to do it
then maybe I ought to.”
I watched that scene a couple of times because I really wanted — I don’t know why it was so important to me to — well, I know: because I loved him, and I miss him. And I wanted to bring him into this as best as I could, right?
So I was reading that scene, and the words are identical to the script. And I had this very powerful flashback to being on the train tracks that day in Cottage Grove, Oregon. And I could see River standing next to them. They’re shooting my side of the scene and there’s River, right next to the camera, doing his off-camera dialogue, and there’s the sound guy, and there’s the boom operator. There’s my key light.
I could hear and feel it. It was the weirdest thing. It’s like I was right back there.
I was able to really take in the emotional memory of being Gordie in all of those scenes. So when I was narrating him and I’m me and I’m old with all of this experience, I just drew on what I remembered from being that little boy and what I remember of those friendships and what they meant to me and what they mean to me today.
“Rob gave me a gift. Rob gave me a career.”
Wheaton recalls the “Stand By Me” director’s way with kids on set, as well as his recent Oscars tribute.
Rob really encouraged us to be kids.
Jerry tells the most amazing story about that scene, where we were all sitting around, and doing our bit, and he improvised. He was just goofing around — we were just playing — and he said something about spitting water at the fat kid.
We get to the end of the scene, and he hears Rob. Rob comes around from behind the thing, and he goes, “Jerry!” And Jerry thinks, “Oh no, I’m in trouble. I’m in trouble because I improvised, and I’m not supposed to improvise.”
The context for Jerry is that he had been told by the adults in his life, “Sit on your hands and shut up. Stop trying to be a cutup. Stop trying to be funny. Stop disrupting people. Just be quiet.” And Jerry thinks, “Oh my God. I didn’t shut up. I’m in trouble. I’m gonna get fired.”
Rob leans in to all of us, and Rob says, “Hey, guys, do you see that? More of that. Do that!”
The whole time when you’re a kid actor, you’re just around all these adults who are constantly telling you to grow up. They’re mad that you’re being a kid. Rob just created an environment where not only was it supported that we would be kids — and have fun, and follow those kid instincts and do what was natural — it was expected. It was encouraged. We were supposed to do it.
They chanted together:
“I don’t shut up,
I grow up.
And when I look at you I throw up.”
“Then your mother goes around the corner
and licks it up,”
I said, and hauled ass out of there,
giving them the finger over my shoulder as I went.
I never had any friends later on
like the ones I had when I was twelve.
Jesus, did you?
When we were at the Oscars, I looked at Jerry. And we looked at this remarkable assemblage of the most amazingly talented, beautiful artists and storytellers. We looked around, and Jerry leans down, and he said, “We all got our start with Rob Reiner. He trusted every single one of us.”
And to stand there for him, when I really thought that I would be standing with him to talk about this stuff — it was a lot.
“I was really really really excited — like jumping up and down.”
The scene Wheaton was most looking forward to narrating: the tale of Lard Ass Hogan.
I was so excited to narrate it. It’s a great story! It’s a funny story. It’s such a lovely break — it’s an emotional and tonal shift from what’s happening in the movie.
I know this as a writer: You work to increase and release tension throughout a narrative, and Stephen King uses humor really effectively to release that tension. But it also raises the stakes, because we have these moments of joy and these moments of things being very silly in the midst of a lot of intensity.
That’s why the story of Lard Ass Hogan is so fun for me to tell. Because in the middle of that, we stop to do something that’s very, very fun, and very silly and very celebratory.
“Will you shut up and let him tell it?”
Teddy hollered.
Vern blinked.
“Sure. Yeah.
Okay.”
“Go on, Gordie,”
Chris said. “It’s not really much—”
“Naw,
we don’t expect much from a wet end like you,”
Teddy said,
“but tell it anyway.”
I cleared my throat. “So anyway.
It’s Pioneer Days,
and on the last night
they have these three big events.
There’s an egg-roll for the little kids and a sack-race for kids that are like eight or nine,
and then there’s the pie-eating contest.
And the main guy of the story
is this fat kid nobody likes
named Davie Hogan.”
When I narrate this story — whenever there is a moment of levity or humor, whenever there are those brief little moments that are the seasoning of the meal that makes it all so real and relatable — yes, it was very important to me to capture those moments.
I’m shifting in my chair, so I can feel each of those characters. It’s something that doesn’t exist in live action. It doesn’t exist in any other media.
“I feel the loss.”
Wheaton remembers River Phoenix.
The novella “The Body” is very much about Gordie remembering Chris. It’s darker, and it’s more painful, than the movie is.
I’ve been watching the movie on this tour and seeing River a lot. I remember him as a 14- and 15-year-old kid who just seemed so much older, and so much more experienced and so much wiser than me, and I’m only a year younger than him.
What hurts me now, and what I really felt when I was narrating this, is knowing what River was going through then. We didn’t know. I still don’t know the extent of how he was mistreated, but I know that he was. I know that adults failed him. That he should have been protected in every way that matters. And he just wasn’t.
And I, like Gordie, remember a boy who was loving. So loving, and generous and cared deeply about everyone around him, all the time. Who deserved to live a full life. Who had so much to offer the world. And it’s so unfair that he’s gone and taken from us. I had to go through a decades-long grieving process to come to terms with him dying.
Near the end
of 1971,
Chris
went into a Chicken Delight in Portland
to get a three-piece Snack Bucket.
Just ahead of him,
two men started arguing
about which one had been first in line. One of them pulled a knife.
Chris,
who had always been the best of us
at making peace,
stepped between them and was stabbed in the throat.
The man with the knife had spent time in four different institutions;
he had been released from Shawshank State Prison
only the week before.
Chris died almost instantly.
It is a privilege that I was allowed to tell this story. I get to tell Gordie Lachance’s story as originally imagined by Stephen King, with all of the experience of having lived my whole adult life with the memory of spending three months in Gordie Lachance’s skin.
Culture
Do You Know the Comics That Inspired These TV Adventures?
Welcome to Great Adaptations, the Book Review’s regular multiple-choice quiz about printed works that have gone on to find new life as movies, television shows, theatrical productions and more. This week’s challenge highlights offbeat television shows that began as comic books. Just tap or click your answers to the five questions below. And scroll down after you finish the last question for links to the comics and their screen versions.
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