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Philadelphia Eagles defensive tackle Milton Williams strips the ball from Kansas City Chiefs quarterback Patrick Mahomes during the second half of Super Bowl 59. The Super Bowl is a moment that people can root for their favorite team and feel normal in prison. (Associated Press/Frank Franklin II)

On Sunday night, the Philadelphia Eagles routed the Kansas City Chiefs 40-22 in the 2025 Super Bowl in New Orleans.

Fans flooded Philadelphia’s city center after the win and climbed light poles — a Philadelphia celebration so signature that city workers have greased the poles in an attempt to stop the climbing. 

Super Bowl celebrations are generally tamer inside prisons, but the NFL championship can still hold deep meaning to incarcerated people. Prison Journalism Project writers in Pennsylvania and Missouri submitted dispatches on the Super Bowl’s significance. As one writer said of watching the game: “It makes me feel … normal.” 

PJP Deputy Editor Wyatt Stayner


During the hours leading up to the Super Bowl, people at Jefferson City Correctional Center in Missouri began to prepare meals and seating arrangements. They prepared burritos, pizzas or nachos.

I heard people chatting about how the Chiefs, whose stadium is about 150 miles west of us, were going to win the Super Bowl. 

Not everyone agreed, though. There are those at my Missouri prison who felt the Chiefs were overrated. Personally, I’m not a football fan, but I enjoy the others’ excitement and humor leading up to the game. Prisoners and staff get along so well during football season. This is one of the only times I literally listen to both prisoner and guard banter back and forth with one another in a joking manner, and the guards don’t take things personally. 

The only time you hear the prison erupt during a game is if it’s a bad call or a great play. There will usually be continued banter throughout the game. Many prisoners watch the game in their cells, and some people even put their TV in the cell doorway to watch with others as a community. Their selflessness inspires me.

Antwann Lamont Johnson, writing from Jefferson City, Missouri 


Watching the Super Bowl at my prison, Eastern Reception, Diagnostic, and Correctional Center, in Bonne Terre, Missouri, is a big deal. 

Prisoners at ERDCC who’ve purchased a TV can watch the Super Bowl in their cells. But residents who have gone at least six months without a conduct violation are eligible to attend a tailgate party in our gym that rivals some Super Bowl parties in the free world. Recreation staff posted a signup sheet by the door a couple of weeks ago, and the 150 seats filled quickly.

There’s popcorn and cans of soda to be had, provided free by the recreation department to everyone. Most of the gym’s overhead lights get turned off, and powerful LED lights blast the teams’ colors up the walls and across the ceiling. You can feel the crunch and whistle of every play and call, thanks to arrays of large speakers aimed at the crowd. Everyone cheers or boos at a 16-foot-wide projector screen.

Maybe best of all, though, is the food. Fans go all out, with buddies pooling their resources for weeks to collect ingredients from the canteen. Some turn to the black market for onions, cheese or spices stolen from the kitchen — whatever it takes to build a meal that will feed their group. Nachos are a perennial favorite, often elaborately layered. Some fans concoct less traditional fare to enjoy during the game, such as lasagna or “fried” rice they brown in the microwave using paper bags.

No matter what gets brought to the table, or which team a person cheers for, the Super Bowl at our prison is always a cut above.

Byron Case, writing from Bonne Terre, Missouri


I just experienced my 29th Super Bowl in prison. There’s always excitement in the air as the game approaches. It’s similar to watching the game on the outside — I remember that feeling and it hasn’t changed. 

We had a hoagie sale here at State Correctional Institution at Phoenix for the big game. For $8, you could order one hoagie (turkey, roast beef or cheese) with a bag of chips and a soda. Nearly everyone who had the finances on their books got themselves a hoagie for the game. We picked up our hoagies on Super Bowl Sunday. This is something we don’t get on a regular basis.

When it’s game time, the prison dayrooms get loud.  I’m a Philadelphia Eagles fan. I’ve been one all of my life. But there are both Eagle supporters and haters. They make themselves known when the Eagles score or if their opponent scores. Some guards cheer or boo just as loudly as we do as the game carries on. 

To me, it’s exciting. I don’t take it personally. I just enjoy the experience. It makes me feel like when I was home long ago: normal.

Larry N. Stromberg, Collegeville, Pennsylvania

Disclaimer: The views in this article are those of the author. Prison Journalism Project has verified the writer’s identity and basic facts such as the names of institutions mentioned.

Antwann Lamont Johnson is a writer incarcerated in Missouri.

Byron Case is a writer incarcerated in Missouri.

Larry N. Stromberg is a writer incarcerated in Pennsylvania.