Super Bowl Event
Atlanta Journal-Constitution - published on: 2/6/06
by Saeed Ahmed

The incredulous cries rang out as soon as the first Super Bowl commercials came on and someone mentioned that each 30-second spot went for $2.5 million. "What?" cried out David Hill. "Man, for that kind of money I can get ... man, I don't even know where to start."

To Hill and those like him who had gathered for this Super Bowl party, the fact that this was not merely a game, but also the greatest celebration of conspicuous consumption in this country, meant little. They know they are among Madison Avenue's least desirable demographic: they are homeless. About 60 of them turned up Sunday evening for an outdoor Super Bowl party in southeast Atlanta that, with the exception of beer, lacked none of the trappings of a regular bar gathering. The homeless men and women, who had learned of the event through word of mouth, feasted on hamburgers, wings and chili to be a part of sports' biggest bacchanal.

Granted, most of them were on hand for the free food and weren't particularly rooting for either team. "Who's playing again?" Maurice Davis, 46, asked. The Pittsburgh Steelers and the Seattle Seahawks, he was told. "Oh, I suppose I'll go with Pittsburgh then," he said, with not an ounce of conviction in his voice. "I heard they're the underdog." Davis was holding out high hopes for the halftime show though, he said. He had missed the infamous "wardrobe malfunction" episode two years ago, when part of singer Janet Jackson's top came off — supposedly unintentionally — during a halftime performance. Davis was crestfallen when told the Rolling Stones, all four of them age 50 and above, would be providing the entertainment this time. "Man, if I wanted to see crusty old men, I'd go to the shelter," he said. Hill, 45, who was sitting nearby, disagreed. He liked the Stones; his favorite song is "Gimme Shelter," he said. "Sounds like I'm making a joke, given my current situation," he added. "I honestly like the song."

The volunteers from Trinity Vineyard, a church off Howell Mill Road in Atlanta, have been putting on such Super Bowl parties for the homeless for the past five years. "It's the closest thing you have in America to an unofficial holiday," said volunteer Brian Ban, 26, a student at Atlanta Christian College. "And it's our way to make sure that like everyone else, they get a chance to be a part of the festivities as well."

Until now, the events had been held downtown where the old traffic court building sits. But with the city beginning to enforce trespassing rules recently, the church ministry moved the location to a property off Martin Luther King Jr. Drive near Oakland Cemetery. A fellow ministry, Blood-N-Fire, has owned land for 15 years, running a shelter. So there they gathered, huddled in the cold under an open sky on metal chairs set up inside the shell of what was once a warehouse. The game was beamed onto a big screen propped against a chain-link gate and beamed via a projector hooked to a beat-up VCR with rabbit ear antennas for reception.

None of them wagered any money. They didn't have much to spare, they joked. But it didn't take long for the trash-talking to commence. "It's like any other party, and you give it a few minutes and they break out into camps," explained Larry Johnson, 60, who's attended several of these parties. He immediately corrected himself. "Not exactly like any other party," he said. "There's no tailgating because we don't have any pickup trucks. And we're out in the cold. "But I bet you that to these guys, the game might not mean much, but they will remember the kindness behind the act."

To involve the community in providing for the homeless by meeting their basic needs.