Michael Jackson. Stevie Wonder. The Rolling Stones. Prince. Bruce Springsteen. The Black Eyed Peas.
Find the black sheep. Oh, there it is.
The NFL let America down when it chose the Black Eyed Peas to headline the halftime show at Super Bowl XLV. After all, the Super Bowl is our nation’s moment to shine.
Europe is done thanking us for the Marshall Plan. We haven’t made a sexy car since the ‘70s. And as much as our fearless leader tries to galvanize his people, we are not on the verge of another Sputnik. But what we can do as Americans is put on a show; or at least we used to know what that took.
The Super Bowl, from its name down to the millions of dollars spent on advertising, is the ultimate flexing of American muscle. That is exactly why they trot out Michael and Stevie. Even Mick and Keith managed to emerge from the haze of a champagne-drenched suite in the Bellagio to make it up to Detroit for Super Bowl XL.
How could Roger Goodell and his cronies bobble the snap on this one? Everything was going so perfectly. In 2010 the NFL was filled with intriguing stories, which led to its highest ever TV ratings for a season. The playoffs were a commissioner’s dream. Aaron “Friendly as Mr. Rogers” Rogers and his hobbled Pack caught fire, adding a 21st century chapter to the lore of the Green-and-Gold.
It felt like we were living in Goodell’s fantasy world. His golden knight, Rodgers, took down yesterday’s crucified star, Michael Vick. Then he braved the cold and silenced the surly Jay Cutler. Next up was the Super Bowl, and everyone outside of Western Pennsylvania hoped that Rodgers had one more in the chamber to slay the poster boy for everything wrong with the league, Big Bad Ben Roethlisberger.
Finally, through all of these triumphs of Good over Evil in the NFL, Rodgers has shaken the graying, Louisiana monkey from his back. That Super Bowl MVP Award ESPN can finally drop the notion that Rodgers is motivated by residual hatred for Brett Favre.
The NFL could not have drawn it up any better. Ex-cons and sexters alike felt the wrath of Rodgers’ poise and pinpoint passing. It seemed that the stage was set perfectly for the Super Bowl.
Then, inexplicably, the Black Eyed Peas were allowed to have their way with the halftime show. On a stage in the middle of the modern cathedral of sport that Jerry Jones built, Will.i.am, Fergie and co. butchered their performance and 111 million Americans cringed in unison.
Allow me to be clear. The Black Eyed Peas never had a chance. The fault here lies entirely with the people who selected them as the lead performer. Even if the mics had been working, even if Fergie hadn’t left her lozenges in Los Angeles and even if a number of the stage lights had not gone out, the show would have been a disaster.
The Black Eyed Peas burst onto the scene in a big way with the release of Elephunk, their first platinum album in 2003. During a time when the United States needed feel good music, they gave it to us. They gave it to us hard. Their music was like a combination of a “Fight World Hunger” commercial and Kumbaya set to the furious pace of a Jazzercise class. Even with their best performance last Sunday, they could never hold a candle to “Born to Run” or “Billie Jean” at midfield.
Maybe the planners of the halftime show knew they had to book someone cheesy when they saw the Packers making their Sherman-esque march through the postseason. That would mean that they were sacrificing a great show for a little irony. That sure doesn’t sound very American. Maybe the impending NFL lockout had Goodell so busy that he couldn’t manage to book a real performer.
Yes, I know they did have a classic face on the stage. Slash of Guns ‘n Roses made an appearance, complete with theatrical makeup and top hat. They barely let him play guitar, however, and he was forced to endure Fergie’s rendition of “Sweet Child O’ Mine”, marking the real low point of the night. The Peas then hit us with about five of their catchiest songs. I’ll blame that toe-tapping on restless leg syndrome.
There were only two saving graces. The absurd light-up costumes worn by the accompanying dancers and the Black Eyed Peas themselves made Apl.de.ap and Taboo looked like extras from The Matrix. The only moment that really absolved the whole disaster for me was Usher gracing us with some of his silky dance moves. Other than that, the halftime show gave the Super Bowl a big black eye.
