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When it comes to sports, Iām a sentimental fool.
And my eyes were barely dry from watching the Netflix āMiracleā documentary on Saturday night when Super Bowl XL kicked off with a patriotic montage of the big game throughout the years.
Itās been 60 years of great football and national cohesion on that given Sunday.
In it, fans recalled big life moments during the Super Bowl, like a mother giving birth during a game and a veteran hearing Whitney Houstonās iconic national anthem while deployed during Desert Storm. Legendary Jet Joe Namath closed the segment out. Football is indeed āAmericaās Game.ā
On the field, Super Bowl MVPs like Steve Young, Tom Brady, Lynn Swann and the Manning brothers popped out of the āmemory roomā to cheers. And oddly joined Green Day as they played āAmerican Idiot.ā
I must have cried about 15 times before kickoff.
However, all that beautiful nostalgia dissolved into something worse than the stench on the Jersey Turnpike. It was . . . betrayal.
āJersey guyā Jon Bon Jovi took the field to introduce the, ahem, New England Patriots. We shouldnāt be shocked by the Sayreville, NJ, nativeās treason. He has long been desperate to be a part of an NFL ownership and has made it his job to cozy up to Jerry Jones and Robert Kraft.
Given the Patriotsā 21st century dominance, heās firmly planted himself in Kraftās sidecar.
A fitting penalty would be stripping the āBad Medicineā singerās name off his namesake rest stop on the Garden State Parkway, and renaming it for former āLove Guvā Jim McGreevey, a man who admittedly put in a lot of hours in them.
He was further humiliated by Danny McBride and Keegan-Michael Keyās superior version of āLiving on a Prayerā in the State Farm ad.
āBroadway productionā
Speaking of Garden State musicians, Rumson native Charlie Puthās rendition of the national anthem had little touches of Kenny G. It was indeed stirring.
For a dentistās office.
Alas, between the Pats and Seahawks showdown, we were presented with an abundance of options at halftime. With the enticing choices of Kid Rockās Turning Point USA show or Bad Bunny, I was most excited to watch the bottom of my glass.
However, with all of the controversy surrounding the NFLās choice of the Puerto Rican superstar, I kept on the broadcast because I knew, at least he wasnāt going to be half-assed.
Indeed the show was a visual triumph ā but a musical dud.
The gridiron was transformed into a sugarcane field, where Bad Bunny walked through revealing vignettes like a nail salon, a jewelry vendor and old men playing dominoes. It was unlike any other halftime show, which usually feels like an elaborate concert inside a football stadium.
Instead this was a Broadway production transplanted onto turf, and it had a dazzling cinematic effect. You werenāt watching the show from above, you were immersed in this Latin showcase.
NFLās going global
Still, Bad Bunny, whose government name is Benito Antonio Martinez Ocasio, wasnāt a great choice. Not because he sings in Spanish, but because his music is meh.
He got a little assist from Lady Gaga and Ricky Martin, but overall the sound was swallowed by the elaborate presentation and the ever-moving set. There was so much to look at, but the music never rose above the sugarcane.
Bad Bunny ended the performance with a roll call of Latin American countries and their representatives holding flags to underscore his Grammyās anti-ICE speech without being explicit. It felt more like the closing ceremonies at the Pan Am games than the 60th annual pigskin-a-palooza, which is uniquely American.
The U-S-A variety.
I fully understand the NFLās hyperfocus on expanding its footprint abroad, especially in the Spanish-speaking market.
Choosing the global superstar was a business move looking toward the future.
On the positive side, maybe people picked up a few extra words of Espanol. But next year, letās get back to something a little less polarizing.