Imagine witnessing every single Super Bowl in history—all 60 of them. For three remarkable men, this isn't just a dream; it's their reality. But this year, their streak may finally come to an end. This could be the last time these lifelong friends attend the Super Bowl together, and the emotions are running high.
In the quaint town of Kennebunk, Maine, Don Crisman, Gregory Eaton, and Tom Henschel are preparing for what might be their final shared pilgrimage to the biggest game of the year. These octogenarians are the last remaining members of an exclusive club: those who have never missed a Super Bowl. Their journey, spanning over half a century, is a testament to their unwavering passion for the sport and their unbreakable bond.
But here's where it gets emotional: Crisman, now 89 and turning 90 this year, and Henschel, 84 and slowed by a stroke, are facing the reality that their advancing years and physical limitations may make this their final Super Bowl. Eaton, 86, the only one still working, running a ground transportation company in Detroit, plans to continue as long as his health allows. Yet, even he admits the escalating costs and commercialization of the event have taken some of the shine off the experience.
This year’s matchup between the Seattle Seahawks and the New England Patriots at Levi’s Stadium in Santa Clara, California, holds special significance for Crisman, a die-hard Patriots fan since the team’s inception. For him, seeing his team compete for a record 12th time is a dream come true. Yet, he acknowledges, “This will definitely be the final one. We made it to 60.”
And this is the part most people miss: the camaraderie and shared history that go beyond the game itself. Crisman and Henschel first met at the 1983 Super Bowl, and Eaton joined their ranks in the mid-2010s after years of attending solo. Their friendship is marked by friendly rivalries—Crisman’s Patriots and Henschel’s Pittsburgh Steelers are AFC foes—and a deep mutual respect. “They’re my brothers,” Eaton said. “We check on each other.”
Over the years, the trio has scaled back their Super Bowl trips. Crisman, who once spent a week soaking in the host city’s festivities, now stays for just three or four days. Eaton, too, feels the weight of the event’s commercialization, noting, “It’s a $10,000 trip now.” Yet, for all of them, the expense and effort are worth it to maintain their bond and their streak.
But here's where it gets controversial: As the club of Super Bowl regulars shrinks, questions arise about the future of such traditions. Photographer John Biever, who has captured every Super Bowl, also plans to end his streak at 60. Is the modern Super Bowl experience losing its soul to commercialism? Or is it evolving into something new, leaving behind those who cherish its simpler beginnings?
The stories these men tell are as much about the changing world as they are about football. Henschel recalls scoring a $12 ticket to the 1969 Super Bowl on game day, while Crisman remembers a 24-hour train ride to Miami for the 1968 game. Eaton, one of the few Black fans in the early years, reflects on the significance of Doug Williams becoming the first Black quarterback to win a Super Bowl in 1988.
For Crisman’s daughter, Susan Metevier, who was born the year of the first Super Bowl, her father’s streak has been a lifelong constant. “It’s kind of bittersweet,” she said. “It’s about the memories. It’s not just about the football, it’s something more.”
As kickoff approaches, Henschel, despite his challenges, can’t wait. “It’s in my blood. I love football over all the sports. It’s the best dang game,” he declared.
Thought-provoking question for you: As the Super Bowl continues to evolve, what does it mean to be a true fan? Is it about the game itself, the traditions, or the connections we make along the way? Share your thoughts in the comments—let’s keep the conversation going!
