Ranking the Top 10 Trick Plays in Super Bowl History: Because Apparently Winning Normally Is Too Boring

Ten outrageous plays, a few legendary coaching decisions, and enough defensive embarrassment to last several lifetimes.

There's something wonderfully ridiculous about professional football. We spend an entire season listening to coaches explain discipline, preparation, fundamentals, execution, and the importance of sticking to the game plan. We watch analysts draw complicated diagrams on enormous television screens while telling us how sophisticated modern defenses have become. We hear about countless hours of film study, advanced analytics, meticulously designed offensive systems, and the extraordinary intelligence required to succeed at the highest level.

Then somebody hands the football to a running back who throws it to a quarterback, and eleven professional defenders suddenly look like they wandered into the wrong meeting.

I love it.

There's a particular beauty to a perfectly executed trick play, especially in the Super Bowl. Here you have two teams that have survived an entire NFL season, navigated the playoffs, and supposedly demonstrated that they are the finest football organizations in their respective conferences. Their coaching staffs have spent practically every waking moment preparing for this game. Their players have studied tendencies, memorized assignments, and rehearsed countless scenarios.

And somewhere in the middle of all that preparation, an offensive coordinator decides the smartest thing he can possibly do is make everyone believe something that isn't happening.

It's magnificent.

Of course, trick plays are also spectacularly dangerous. When they work, the coach becomes a visionary. When they fail, he becomes the subject of a thousand television debates hosted by people who couldn't successfully manage a high school concession stand.

That's the bargain.

The difference between genius and stupidity in professional football is occasionally nothing more than whether a football lands in someone's hands or bounces off his helmet.

I've always believed the greatest trick plays deserve more appreciation than they receive. Not because they're necessarily the most athletic moments in football, but because they represent something far more entertaining: the willingness to challenge conventional thinking when the consequences of failure are enormous.

So I'm ranking my ten favorite trick plays in Super Bowl history. I'm considering creativity, execution, historical significance, audacity, and how thoroughly each play exposed the opposing defense.

And yes, I'm putting the Philly Special near the top. I'm not going to pretend otherwise just to manufacture controversy. Sometimes the obvious answer is obvious because it's correct.

Let's get into it.

10. Steve Sewell Throws to John Elway — Super Bowl XXII (1988)

Denver Broncos vs. Washington

If you're looking for proof that a brilliant trick play doesn't necessarily produce a brilliant outcome, allow me to introduce the Denver Broncos in Super Bowl XXII.

The Broncos entered the game with John Elway, one of the most gifted quarterbacks of his generation. Elway could throw a football approximately halfway across the continental United States, escape defenders, improvise under pressure, and occasionally make professional athletes look like they were chasing a greased shopping cart downhill.

Naturally, Denver decided it would be fun to have somebody else throw him the football.

Running back Steve Sewell took a handoff and delivered a throwback pass to Elway, who caught it for a 23-yard gain. At the time, that made Elway the first quarterback to record a reception in Super Bowl history.

It was clever. It was unexpected. And it demonstrated the kind of creativity that makes football entertaining.

Unfortunately, Denver eventually discovered that tricking an opponent on one play does not prevent that opponent from scoring 42 unanswered points.

Washington demolished the Broncos 42-10.

That's right. Denver successfully fooled Washington with a beautifully designed trick play, and Washington responded by turning the remainder of the game into a public demonstration of offensive superiority.

I suppose there's a lesson here about the difference between winning a battle and winning a war.

Still, I give Denver credit. The play showed imagination, involved a quarterback doing something quarterbacks rarely did in that era, and briefly made the Broncos look like the smartest people in the stadium.

Then the second quarter happened.

And somewhere, a defensive coordinator probably decided the next time Denver wanted to get creative, he would simply let them have their moment before getting back to the business of crushing them.

9. Lawrence McCutcheon's Halfback Pass — Super Bowl XIV (1980)

Los Angeles Rams vs. Pittsburgh Steelers

There are few things I enjoy more than watching an aggressive defense get punished for being excessively aggressive.

It's one of football's great ironies. Coaches spend entire weeks encouraging defenders to attack, pursue, react quickly, and impose their will on the offense.

Then they become furious when those same defenders react too quickly.

In Super Bowl XIV, the Los Angeles Rams faced the Pittsburgh Steelers, a team whose defensive reputation was built on making opposing offenses deeply uncomfortable.

The Rams decided to exploit Pittsburgh's aggressive tendencies with a halfback pass.

Lawrence McCutcheon took the handoff, sold the run, and threw a 24-yard touchdown pass to Ron Smith.

Suddenly, the Rams had a 19-17 lead in the third quarter.

Think about that for a moment.

Here was one of the most intimidating defenses in football, and Los Angeles had just manipulated its aggression into creating a touchdown opportunity.

That's what makes these plays so enjoyable. The defense isn't necessarily beaten because its players are slow or untalented. It's beaten because the offense convinces those players to do precisely what they've been trained to do, only at the wrong moment.

It's strategic manipulation disguised as athletic competition.

Unfortunately for Los Angeles, Pittsburgh eventually remembered that it was Pittsburgh.

The Steelers won 31-19.

McCutcheon's touchdown remains a wonderful example of how a team can use an opponent's strength against it.

It also serves as a reminder that embarrassing a dynasty for one play is considerably easier than defeating one for an entire afternoon.

Nevertheless, I appreciate the audacity. Facing the Steel Curtain and deciding to attack it with deception requires either extraordinary confidence or a spectacular misunderstanding of personal safety.

Possibly both.

8. The Giants' Flea Flicker — Super Bowl XXI (1987)

New York Giants vs. Denver Broncos

The flea flicker is one of football's most charmingly absurd inventions.

The quarterback hands the ball to a running back. The running back pretends he's about to run. Then he tosses the ball back to the quarterback, who throws it downfield while the defense attempts to remember what sport it's playing.

When executed correctly, the flea flicker is beautiful.

When executed incorrectly, it's the sort of play that causes offensive coordinators to update their résumés before the fourth quarter.

In Super Bowl XXI, the New York Giants used the concept against Denver.

Phil Simms handed the ball to Joe Morris, who pitched it back to Simms. The quarterback then launched a 44-yard completion to Phil McConkey.

Denver's defense had committed to stopping the apparent running play, opening an opportunity downfield.

McConkey nearly scored, but the Broncos managed to prevent the touchdown.

New York scored on the following play anyway.

The Giants eventually won 39-20, and Simms delivered one of the most efficient passing performances in Super Bowl history.

What I love about this particular trick play is that it demonstrates a fundamental weakness in defensive football: players must make decisions before they possess complete information.

They don't have the luxury of waiting until the entire play unfolds. By then, the ball carrier is already ten yards downfield.

The offense exploits that necessity.

The Giants made Denver commit to an assumption, then punished the assumption.

And unlike some trick plays, this one didn't require a spectacular circus act or a running back pretending to be a magician.

It required timing, execution, and an understanding of how defenders react.

Football coaches call that exploiting defensive tendencies.

I call it convincing somebody to make a bad decision and then celebrating because your plan worked.

Either way, it's entertaining.

7. Jauan Jennings Throws a Touchdown to Christian McCaffrey — Super Bowl LVIII (2024)

San Francisco 49ers vs. Kansas City Chiefs

By the time Super Bowl LVIII arrived, NFL defenses had decades of trick-play film available for study.

They had seen wide receivers throw passes. They had seen quarterbacks catch touchdowns. They had seen flea flickers, reverses, direct snaps, and enough misdirection to make an experienced magician feel professionally threatened.

And yet San Francisco still managed to fool Kansas City.

Quarterback Brock Purdy threw a backward pass to wide receiver Jauan Jennings, who then delivered a pass across the field to Christian McCaffrey.

McCaffrey took care of the rest.

Twenty-one yards. Touchdown. A 10-0 San Francisco lead.

Beautifully executed.

What makes the play particularly enjoyable is the identity of the passer. Jennings had played quarterback in high school, meaning the 49ers weren't simply asking an unsuspecting receiver to launch a football and hope gravity behaved.

They had a player with passing experience.

Imagine that. An offensive coaching staff actually identifying a player's abilities and using them creatively.

Revolutionary stuff.

The play worked because Kansas City's defense initially reacted to the apparent receiver action, leaving McCaffrey with space to operate.

And let's be clear: giving Christian McCaffrey additional space is generally a terrible idea.

McCaffrey already possesses enough talent to make defenders reconsider their career decisions. Providing him with a tactical advantage seems unnecessarily generous.

Unfortunately for the 49ers, the Chiefs had Patrick Mahomes.

And Mahomes has developed an irritating habit of treating late-game adversity as a minor administrative inconvenience.

Kansas City won 25-22 in overtime.

Jennings' touchdown remains one of the most entertaining gadget plays of the modern Super Bowl era, even though San Francisco ultimately lost.

I rank it seventh because it was imaginative, technically sound, and produced a touchdown against an excellent opponent.

The only thing missing was the victory.

Which, unfortunately, is a fairly significant detail when discussing championship football.

6. Robert Newhouse Becomes a Quarterback — Super Bowl XII (1978)

Dallas Cowboys vs. Denver Broncos

Before the modern NFL turned trick plays into carefully marketed television attractions, Tom Landry was already making defenses regret their assumptions.

In Super Bowl XII, the Dallas Cowboys held a 20-10 lead over Denver in the fourth quarter.

A conservative coach might have continued running the football, controlling the clock, and avoiding unnecessary risks.

Landry apparently decided that wasn't sufficiently entertaining.

Quarterback Roger Staubach pitched the football to fullback Robert Newhouse, who pulled up and delivered a 29-yard touchdown pass to Golden Richards.

That made Newhouse the first non-quarterback to throw a touchdown pass in Super Bowl history.

And it essentially ended Denver's hopes.

Dallas won 27-10.

I particularly appreciate this play because of the era in which it occurred.

Today, quarterbacks are occasionally expected to catch passes, running backs throw touchdowns, and offensive coordinators spend their evenings inventing formations that look like somebody spilled chess pieces across a table.

In 1978, having your fullback throw a touchdown in the Super Bowl was considerably more unusual.

Newhouse wasn't supposed to be the guy launching passes into the end zone. He was supposed to be the guy lowering his shoulder and running through people.

Instead, he became a temporary quarterback.

Denver's defenders reacted to the running threat, which was precisely what Dallas wanted.

The result was a perfectly placed touchdown pass and another chapter in the Cowboys' championship history.

What makes it especially satisfying is that the play wasn't merely decorative.

It helped put the game away.

That's an important distinction. A trick play that gains eight yards in the second quarter is interesting. A trick play that effectively seals a Super Bowl victory becomes history.

Newhouse earned his place in that history.

And Denver earned the unfortunate distinction of appearing repeatedly on this list for all the wrong reasons.

5. Andy Reid Reaches Into Football's Ancient History — Super Bowl LIV (2020)

Kansas City Chiefs vs. San Francisco 49ers

I have a theory about Andy Reid.

I suspect he watches old football footage the way normal people watch cooking videos.

Somebody else sees a dusty highlight from seventy years ago and thinks, "That's interesting."

Reid apparently sees the same footage and thinks, "I wonder whether I can use that to confuse a modern NFL defense."

In Super Bowl LIV, Kansas City lined up in an unusual formation before a critical fourth-and-one play near San Francisco's goal line.

The Chiefs briefly shifted through a synchronized movement that drew attention to their formation before the snap. The play drew inspiration from an old Michigan concept dating back to the 1948 Rose Bowl.

Then running back Damien Williams took a direct snap and gained the first down.

Patrick Mahomes scored a touchdown two plays later.

Now, I'll concede that this wasn't the most spectacular trick play in Super Bowl history.

Nobody threw a touchdown pass while standing on one leg. No offensive lineman suddenly transformed into a receiving threat. No quarterback hid behind a water cooler waiting for the perfect moment to reappear.

But the creativity was undeniable.

Kansas City used movement, timing, and deception to create uncertainty before executing a relatively straightforward conversion.

And that, to me, is what separates good offensive design from simply drawing increasingly complicated arrows on a whiteboard.

The Chiefs didn't need to reinvent football.

They borrowed a piece of its history, adapted it to their personnel, and used it in one of the biggest games imaginable.

Kansas City eventually defeated San Francisco 31-20.

I also appreciate the broader message.

Football's latest innovation isn't always some futuristic concept developed with sophisticated technology and a room full of analysts.

Sometimes it's something a coach discovered while studying a game played when televisions were still expensive furniture.

Apparently, innovation occasionally means recognizing that an old idea is still capable of making modern professionals look confused.

4. Bill Parcells and the Fake Punt That Helped Change Everything — Super Bowl XXI (1987)

New York Giants vs. Denver Broncos

I know what some people are thinking.

"Another Giants play? Another Broncos disaster?"

Yes.

If Denver wanted to avoid appearing in multiple entries, perhaps it should have spent less time providing historical examples of defensive vulnerability.

In Super Bowl XXI, the Giants trailed Denver 10-9 at halftime.

Early in the third quarter, New York faced fourth-and-one near midfield.

Conventional thinking suggested a punt.

Field position mattered. The game was close. A failed conversion could hand Denver excellent scoring position.

Bill Parcells had a different idea.

The Giants shifted into a surprise formation, and backup quarterback Jeff Rutledge took the snap for a quarterback sneak.

He gained the necessary yardage.

New York maintained possession and eventually scored a touchdown to take the lead.

The Giants never looked back.

What makes this particular play so interesting is that it wasn't especially elaborate.

There wasn't a complicated series of handoffs. Nobody had to throw the ball backward twice. Nobody needed to pretend he was tying his shoe.

The brilliance came from recognizing an opportunity and acting before the opponent could adjust.

I consider that one of the purest forms of deception in football.

The defense expected one thing.

The offense did another.

And suddenly, a possession that should have ended continued toward the end zone.

Parcells understood something that risk-averse coaches occasionally forget: playing conservatively does not eliminate risk.

Punting carries its own consequences. So does surrendering possession to an opponent capable of scoring.

Sometimes the greater risk is allowing fear of failure to determine your decisions.

Of course, I'm sure Parcells would have enjoyed hearing that philosophical explanation if the play had failed.

He probably would have responded with several words that couldn't be broadcast on network television.

But it worked.

And when a fake punt helps shift the momentum of a Super Bowl, I believe it deserves serious recognition.

Even if the play itself looked like something you'd draw up during recess.

3. Antwaan Randle El Throws to Hines Ward — Super Bowl XL (2006)

Pittsburgh Steelers vs. Seattle Seahawks

There are moments in football when a defense gets beaten so thoroughly that I almost feel sorry for the players involved.

Almost.

Super Bowl XL provided one of those moments.

The Steelers held a 14-10 lead over Seattle in the fourth quarter. Pittsburgh had a chance to extend its advantage, but rather than settle for a conventional offensive approach, the Steelers decided to get creative.

Antwaan Randle El took the football on a reverse.

Seattle reacted to the apparent running play.

Then Randle El pulled up and threw a beautiful 43-yard touchdown pass to Hines Ward.

Touchdown.

Pittsburgh eventually won 21-10.

I absolutely love this play.

First, Randle El wasn't some random receiver being asked to do something completely unfamiliar. He had played quarterback at Indiana, where he demonstrated that he possessed a legitimate passing arm.

Pittsburgh understood that.

Seattle, apparently, had other priorities.

Second, the pass itself was excellent.

This wasn't one of those awkward trick-play throws where the ball floats through the air like a wounded duck while everyone wonders whether somebody is about to intercept it.

Randle El delivered the football beautifully.

Ward caught it, and the Steelers effectively put the game out of reach.

The play is also a wonderful reminder that labeling a player according to his official position doesn't fully describe his abilities.

Randle El was a wide receiver.

He was also capable of throwing a football with the precision required to score a touchdown in the Super Bowl.

The Steelers used that versatility brilliantly.

And Seattle learned that sometimes the most dangerous passer on the field isn't the player wearing the quarterback designation.

I rank this play third because of its execution, timing, and direct impact on the championship.

It wasn't just creative.

It was devastating.

2. The Saints' Ambush — Super Bowl XLIV (2010)

New Orleans Saints vs. Indianapolis Colts

If I were an NFL head coach, I would like to believe I possessed the courage to call an unexpected onside kick to begin the second half of the Super Bowl.

Realistically, I would probably spend halftime staring at the play sheet, sweating through my shirt, and wondering whether coaching youth basketball might provide a more reasonable level of stress.

Sean Payton apparently had no such concerns.

The Saints trailed Indianapolis 10-6 at halftime.

The Colts were led by Peyton Manning, one of the most intelligent quarterbacks ever to play the game.

Giving Manning another possession was dangerous.

So Payton decided not to.

Instead of kicking the ball deep to begin the second half, New Orleans attempted a surprise onside kick.

The play was called Ambush.

Thomas Morstead executed the kick, the football disappeared into an enormous pile of bodies, and after an extended struggle for possession, the Saints emerged with the recovery.

I imagine the collective blood pressure in Indianapolis increased substantially.

New Orleans took advantage of the possession and drove for a touchdown.

The Saints eventually won 31-17, claiming the franchise's first Super Bowl championship.

Now, here's why I consider this one of the greatest coaching decisions in Super Bowl history.

It wasn't merely a trick designed to embarrass an opponent.

It was a strategic attempt to change the mathematics of the game.

The Saints understood that possession was precious against Manning.

Every additional opportunity for Indianapolis increased the danger.

Payton decided that the possibility of stealing a possession was worth the enormous risk of handing the Colts excellent field position.

That's aggressive thinking.

And unlike most offensive gadget plays, which unfold within a few seconds, this decision affected the entire rhythm of the second half.

It changed momentum, influenced possession, and helped New Orleans seize control.

Of course, had Indianapolis recovered the kick and immediately scored, Payton might have spent the next decade explaining why he attempted something so reckless.

That's the wonderful hypocrisy of football analysis.

When a daring decision succeeds, we celebrate courage.

When it fails, we demand to know why the coach abandoned common sense.

Same decision. Different outcome. Completely different television conversation.

But Payton deserves credit.

He recognized an opportunity, accepted the consequences, and trusted his team to execute.

And unlike the offensive trick plays involving unusual passes, Ambush attacked an assumption nearly everyone in the stadium shared.

The second half was supposed to begin with a normal kickoff.

Payton decided that normal was overrated.

For that alone, I salute him.

1. The Philly Special — Super Bowl LII (2018)

Philadelphia Eagles vs. New England Patriots

There was never going to be another number one.

I'm sorry if that disappoints anyone hoping for a controversial selection, but some things don't require unnecessary debate.

The Philly Special is the greatest trick play in Super Bowl history.

Not merely because it worked.

Not merely because it resulted in a touchdown.

But because of the opponent, the circumstances, the execution, and the extraordinary confidence required to attempt it.

Let's remember the situation.

The Philadelphia Eagles were playing the New England Patriots, a franchise that had turned winning Super Bowls into something resembling a corporate subscription service.

Tom Brady was on the other sideline.

Bill Belichick was coaching.

New England had established a dynasty built on preparation, discipline, intelligent situational football, and a seemingly supernatural ability to make opponents regret their decisions.

And Philadelphia was starting backup quarterback Nick Foles.

The Eagles led 15-12 late in the first half.

They faced fourth-and-goal near New England's goal line.

The conservative decision was obvious.

Kick the field goal.

Take the points.

Go into halftime with a six-point lead.

Let the defense regroup.

Do all the sensible things that coaches recommend when they're trying to avoid being blamed for a loss.

Instead, Doug Pederson approved something gloriously outrageous.

The Philly Special.

Foles moved away from the quarterback position before the snap.

Center Jason Kelce snapped the football directly to Corey Clement.

Clement pitched the ball to Trey Burton.

Burton, a tight end with quarterback experience, threw a pass toward the end zone.

And waiting there, almost unbelievably uncovered, was Nick Foles.

The quarterback caught the touchdown.

Philadelphia's lead grew to 22-12 at halftime.

The Eagles eventually defeated New England 41-33.

I've watched that play countless times, and I still find it extraordinary.

There is so much that could have gone wrong.

The snap could have been mishandled.

The pitch could have been dropped.

Burton could have thrown an inaccurate pass.

Foles could have stumbled.

A defender could have recognized the deception.

Any single mistake could have destroyed the entire sequence.

And if Philadelphia had failed, the criticism would have been merciless.

Imagine the television discussion.

"You have a chance to extend your lead against Tom Brady, and you decide to throw the football to your quarterback?"

"Why not take the points?"

"What was Doug Pederson thinking?"

Every commentator within broadcasting distance would have suddenly become an expert in conservative game management.

But that's not what happened.

The play worked perfectly.

And because it worked, it became immortal.

What I find most satisfying is that Philadelphia defeated New England using the very qualities that had defined New England's success: preparation, situational awareness, creative planning, and flawless execution.

The Eagles didn't win that moment through superior physical strength.

They won it through intelligence and deception.

They convinced the Patriots to defend the wrong threats.

And in a game filled with extraordinary offensive performances, that one beautifully orchestrated deception became the defining image of Philadelphia's championship.

Foles catching a touchdown pass in the Super Bowl wasn't something anybody expected when the season began.

He wasn't supposed to become the central character in one of football's most iconic plays.

He was a backup quarterback who found himself leading a championship contender because the original starter, Carson Wentz, had suffered a season-ending injury.

Yet there he was, standing in the end zone, completing a moment that would live forever in NFL history.

That's what makes sports wonderful.

The most memorable moments aren't always produced by the people we expect.

Sometimes greatness arrives wearing the jersey of somebody who wasn't even supposed to be starting.

And sometimes it arrives because a coach decides that playing not to lose is a terrible way to pursue victory.

The Real Genius of a Trick Play Isn't the Trick

After revisiting these plays, I keep returning to the same conclusion.

The best trick plays aren't simply clever ways to move a football.

They're demonstrations of how human beings process information.

Every defender enters a game with expectations.

He studies formations. He identifies tendencies. He learns how opponents behave in particular situations.

All of that preparation is supposed to make his decisions faster and more accurate.

And most of the time, it does.

But expectations also create vulnerabilities.

When a defender sees a familiar formation, he anticipates a familiar action. When a quarterback hands the ball to a running back, defenders begin reacting to the run. When a team lines up to kick, the receiving unit expects the ball to travel downfield.

A trick play exploits the space between expectation and reality.

The offense creates a recognizable picture, encourages the defense to interpret it, and then changes the meaning of everything.

That's why I find these moments so fascinating.

They're not just athletic contests.

They're psychological contests.

The offense isn't necessarily trying to overpower the defense.

It's trying to manipulate the defense into overpowering the wrong thing.

Of course, none of that works without execution.

An elaborate trick play that ends with the ball rolling across the turf isn't genius. It's an expensive way to make yourself look foolish in front of millions of people.

And that brings me to another point.

I think the NFL sometimes takes itself far too seriously.

We have complicated terminology, elaborate analytical models, entire television programs dedicated to interpreting quarterback body language, and commentators who can spend fifteen minutes explaining why a coach should have called a different play on third-and-seven.

Meanwhile, one of the greatest plays in football history involved a tight end throwing a touchdown pass to his quarterback.

Sometimes the sport's brilliance is inseparable from its absurdity.

And I wouldn't have it any other way.

Final Thoughts: Fortune Favors the Bold, but the Bold Better Catch the Football

If there's one thing these ten plays demonstrate, it's that extraordinary moments often require extraordinary decisions.

Tom Landry trusted Robert Newhouse to throw a touchdown.

Pittsburgh trusted Antwaan Randle El to deliver a championship-changing pass.

Sean Payton trusted his special teams to steal a possession against Peyton Manning.

Doug Pederson trusted a backup quarterback to catch a touchdown against Bill Belichick's Patriots.

Those decisions weren't guaranteed to succeed.

They were calculated risks executed under extraordinary pressure.

And that's why they deserve recognition.

I don't believe every coach should spend the Super Bowl calling flea flickers, reverses, and halfback passes until the opposing defense develops a nervous condition.

There's a difference between creativity and recklessness.

But I also don't believe the greatest victories are achieved by treating conventional wisdom as sacred.

Sometimes the correct decision is the one nobody expects.

Sometimes the smartest play looks ridiculous until it works.

And sometimes the difference between becoming a legendary coach and becoming an unemployed former coach is a football traveling approximately five yards through the air.

That's professional football.

A game of extraordinary preparation, immense physical talent, sophisticated strategy, and occasional moments of spectacular collective confusion.

And frankly, I wouldn't change a thing.

Because when the next Super Bowl arrives, I'll be watching for the same thing I always watch for.

Not just the touchdowns.

Not just the spectacular catches.

Not even the quarterback heroics.

I'll be watching for that one beautifully ridiculous moment when an entire defense realizes, just a little too late, that everything it thought was happening was completely wrong.

And if the quarterback ends up catching the touchdown?

Even better.

After all, nothing says championship football quite like spending millions of dollars preparing eleven defenders only to have them outsmarted by a play that looks like it was invented in somebody's backyard.

My final verdict: The Philly Special remains the undisputed king of Super Bowl trick plays. Ambush comes close, Randle El deserves every bit of recognition he receives, and the rest remind us that sometimes the smartest thing a football team can do is make its opponent feel spectacularly stupid.

And to every defensive coordinator who has ever spent two weeks preparing for a Super Bowl only to get fooled by a running back throwing a touchdown pass: my condolences. Perhaps next time, prepare for the possibility that the offense might actually be having fun.