Monday, January 27, 2003

I Went To A Bon Jovi Concert And A Football Game Broke Out

The blurring of sports and entertainment which has been getting worse in recent years hit a new low point at yesterday's Super Bowl. No, it wasn't having to watch Celine Dion sing 'God Bless America' before the game (We couldn't find an American diva to handle the chore? We had to settle for this Canadian import?). And it wasn't even trying to figure out just what the hell Shania Twain was trying to go for with that Gothic hooker look or why she was reduced to lip syncing (poorly I might add) while the other halftime performers at least had the decency to perform live. By the way Sting I have two words for you: Go Away. And stay away for that matter. Your time has come and gone. You've got a pile of money and a family. Spend time with them and enjoy your years of maturity with dignity. No one needs to hear 'Message In A Bottle' ever again especially not at a Super Bowl half time show.

No the nadir of the evening was at the conclusion of the game. Having won the first Super Bowl in franchise history and erased years of futility the Tampa Bay Bucs were now world champions and ready to kick the celebration off by accepting the coveted Lombardi Trophy. Not so fast boys. First we need Bon Jovi to sing. I was incredulous. Was I watching the SUPER BOWL, the ultimate showdown after sixteen grueling regular season games and three rounds of playoff games to determine the best team in professional football or was I watching some ridiculous variety show? Is the game itself not enough anymore? Do we have to cram a banal musical act into every available free moment of time?

As Bon Jovi pranced around the stage to the delight of the Buc cheerleaders (and apparently no one else) my initial thoughts echoed Bart's plea of "Come on snipers" but that quickly gave way to a vision of Derrick Brooks rushing the stage and delivering a crunching tackle to Bon Jovi, separating vertebrae and dislocating various other body parts so that we might never have to witness this sad spectacle again. I guess I still had images of those "office linebacker" ads (clearly the best of a mediocre bunch) dancing in my head.

I imagine that Vince Lombardi was spinning in his grave (which I believe is now unmarked after troubles with Packer fans performing odd rituals at the site involving beer, deer urine, and pictures of Brett Favre) and for his sake and for the sake of all true football fans out there I hope that next year Super Bowl organizers will hold off on the musical finale until AFTER the trophy is presented. We're watching a football game not a concert.

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