An Open Letter to the NFL

Dear Commissioner Goodell:

I have watched the Super Bowl every year since 1969 when the New York Jets, led by “Broadway” Joe Namath, upset the Baltimore Colts, who were favored by as many as 19 points. Lloyd Geisler of the Washington National Symphony Orchestra sang the national anthem, and the Florida A&M University marching band provided the halftime entertainment.

The paid attendance at Miami’s Orange Bowl that day was 75,389 and the game was broadcast live on NBC with Curt Gowdy, Al DeRogatis, and Kyle Rote providing the play-by-play and color commentary. Super Bowl III attracted an estimated 41.66 million TV viewers for a 71% market share and the cost of a 30-second commercial was just $55,000.

Oh, the good ol’ days!

I have to admit that although I watched Super Bowl LIX on Sunday, I missed the halftime show because Hulu, my streaming service, couldn’t handle the demand. Fortunately, the feed was reconnected early in the third quarter, and I was able to enjoy watching my hometown Philadelphia Eagles finish off the two-time defending champion Kansas City Chiefs.

From what I’ve heard from friends and relatives who sat through the Apple Music halftime show, it was difficult to understand the words being sung by rapper Kendrick Lamar, who headlined the program. To be honest, I had never heard of Lamar or the “supergroup Black Hippy” with whom he once performed, let alone Top Dawg Entertainment, his previous record label. And I certainly was not familiar with SZA or DJ Mustard, who joined Lamar on stage.

I guess that shows just how out-of-touch I am with today’s musical trends. Then again, maybe it illustrates just how out-of-touch the National Football League has become with its viewing audience.

From Super Bowl I through Super Bowl XXII, every halftime show included at least one marching band from various colleges and universities. Just like baseball and hot dogs, football and marching bands seem made for each other and fortunately, that longstanding tradition continues at the high school and collegiate levels.

Occasionally, the NFL would add a popular singer to the halftime program with Ella Fitzgerald, Andy Williams, Carol Channing, Helen O’Connell, Chubby Checker, and Anita Bryant taking turns performing. Then there was Super Bowl IV, which featured Al Hirt, Lionel Hampton, and Doc Severinsen displaying their musical chops.

Ah, the good ol’ days, yet again!

Aside from a few well-received appearances by the ensemble troupe Up with People, that was the established format for the first quarter-century of the Super Bowl. But in 1991, the NFL decided to modernize the halftime program by inviting the boy band, New Kids on the Block, to perform. OK, I’m cool with that… and Gloria Estefan was even better the following year, appearing with Olympic figure skaters Dorothy Hamill and Brian Boitano and the gold medal winning 1980 U.S. Men’s Ice Hockey Team.

Super Bowl XXVII brought us the King of Pop, Michael Jackson, and in 1994, we were treated to a parade of country music superstars that included Clint Black, Tanya Tucker, Travis Tritt, and the Judds. It doesn’t get much better than that… unless, of course, it was Patti LaBelle, Teddy Pendergrass, Tony Bennett, and the Miami Sound Machine the next year.

In rapid succession, the halftime entertainers for Super Bowls XXX to XXXII were Diana Ross, the Blues Brothers, James Brown, ZZ Top, and a Salute to Motown’s 40th Anniversary that featured Smoky Robinson, Martha Reeves, the Temptations, Boyz II Men, and Queen Latifah.

You talk about one home run after another (please excuse the mixed metaphor).

In 1999, Gloria Estefan made a repeat appearance along with Stevie Wonder and Big Bad Voodoo Daddy… and a joint performance by Phil Collins, Christina Aguilera, Enrique Iglesias, and Toni Braxton brought down the house at Super Bowl XXXIV. Aerosmith, NSYNC, U2, and Shania Twain delighted audiences at the next three championship games, and everything was firing on all cylinders.

Then came the 2004 debacle with Janet Jackson, Justin Timberlake, and the infamous wardrobe malfunction. I recall watching that inappropriate display alongside my wife and our three teenage children and wondering if what I just saw had really happened before a live worldwide television audience.

It had… and so, the NFL decided to regroup by bringing in a tried and true (read “safe”) performer for Super Bowl XXXIX, Sir Paul McCartney, followed by the equally ancient Rolling Stones in 2006. Next up were Prince, Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers, Bruce Springsteen, and the Who.

With the blowback from Super Bowl XXXVIII now a distant memory, the NFL chose to start pushing the entertainment envelope in 2011 with the Black Eyed Peas, Usher, and Slash… and in 2012 with Madonna, Nicki Minaj, M.I.A., and Cee Lo Green. Beyonce, Bruno Mars, the Red Hot Chili Peppers, Katy Perry, and Lenny Kravitz – although not exactly my cup of tea – seemed to right the ship a bit the next three years. The same goes for Coldplay, Lady Gaga, and Justin Timberlake (trying to make amends for his 2004 shenanigans).

Since then, however, the Big Show has taken a dramatic and decided turn towards rap and hip-hop, showcasing one nondescript (and somewhat offensive) performer after another with names like Big Boi, Bad Bunny, Dr. Dre, Snoop Dog, and 50 Cent… adding in Jennifer Lopez, Shakira, and Rihanna to attract a broader audience.

But is it really that broad? I am guessing that the average Super Bowl viewer is a middle-aged man with a pot belly wearing his favorite team’s jersey… and he doesn’t listen to wil.i.am, Ludacris, or Lil Jon.

And so, Mr. Goodell, I am asking you to throw me and the rest of the Baby Boomer generation a musical bone. Can you please hire Garth Brooks and Trisha Yearwood for Super Bowl LX next year and either Michael Buble or Harry Connick, Jr. in 2027? I’ll even settle for a long-in-the-tooth Rod Stewart or a revamped and revitalized Beach Boys.

Then again, we could always go back to the days of the marching bands. Can I get an Amen from my fellow Boomers?

Signed,

One of the millions of forgotten fans over the age of 50 (OK, make that 60)