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It was one of the biggest upsets in sports history. It was the stuff of legend; seconds left on the clock, the "Hail Mary"-ish throw, the older brother watching from the press booth erupting into a moment of proud candid ebullience. And when it was over, and the Giants had reigned victorious against the undefeated Pats, they were rewarded with one hell of an ugly trophy: The unofficially titled "Vince Lombardi" Trophy.

The Super Bowl trophy has its roots in elegant design; its creator, Oscar Riedner, the vice president of design for Tiffany & Co., sketched the bugger out in 1966 on a cocktail napkin over a drink with then-commissioner Pete Rozelle.

Ed Wawrynek, Tiffany's official historian, acknowledges that not only did Oscar sketch the trophy "extremely quickly," but carried that design through to production "nearly identically." It hasn't changed ever since. Wawrynek describes the design as "a perfect blend of modern and traditional. It's a traditional football, modernized by the sculpted triangular base." I dunno. If you ask me, it's kind of literal, blah, and a little meh. It's slightly better than the NBA trophy (which is strikingly similar) but that's not saying much.

Trophy design is an interesting niche world. There's the challenge of creating something elegant and timeless, and at the same time there's a desire to make it rooted in the present- this moment, this person, this event, this accomplishment—frozen in time. When a designer can fuse both of those worlds, then something special happens. Luckily, someone has. Stefan Sagmeister.

Visually representing the pinnacle of success, Sagmeister's Vilcek award is a stunning dimensional pyramid. But the design goes a step further, because the pyramid is physically created from the name of its recipient. The design is at once personal and unique, as well as elegant, timeless, and strangely, consistent. (Once the name is extruded to a certain point it all starts looking the same.)

In the sports world, the only trophy that manages to have a level of beauty, sophistication, and personality is the Stanley Cup. There's something magical about only one trophy existing, and how it has been passed down, generation after generation. There's also something beautiful about every winner's name being etched into the cup, and how more and more levels will be added to it over time. It manages to retain tradition will privatizing that particular year's event—brilliant.

On the other side of the spectrum, there's the plethora of trophies that NASCAR hands out. They're dreadful, cheap-looking, and generic. In fact they are so bad, one has to wonder, "People are willing to die for this?"

In the end, we know it's not about the trophy, it's the whole package: The Ring. The Cash. The honorary shower of Gatorade. The Party. The Glory. The inevitable women banging on your hotel door. But it'd be nice when after all of the ephemera has faded, that the trophy sitting on your mantle is as dignified as the accomplishment itself.