Half-time, big whoop

I had a moment of elation a couple of weeks ago when I read on social media that Rod Stewart was going to be the featured entertainer at the 2026 Super Bowl. Maybe this year I’d join the throngs that tune in religiously to the annual lovefest. I am a loyal fan of Sir Rod. I’ve seen him in concert twice and own a small stack of his CDs. He’s all over my phone’s Facebook, and I’ve been known to stop what I’m doing to watch him sing “Maggie May” or “Have I Told You Lately That I Love You.” Yes, I’ll be tuned in to the Super Bowl.

But, hey, wait a minute! Now I hear some rap star from Puerto Rico who goes by the name Bad Bunny will be taking the stage. The Stewart gibber-jabber was a bunch of hooey. So there’s been a big change of plans in my house as far as Super Bowl halftime entertainment goes. 

Bad Bunny?

For a number of years, we were invited to a Super Bowl party. We attended for various reasons. For one, we don’t get out much and hated to pass up the invitation — me for the social aspect and Ol’ Bill to actually watch football with like-minded fans. There was always more than enough food and drink and conversation to keep me satisfied. I would wander near the TV to catch the commercials, the Budweiser horses, and take a peek at the halftime show.

Those group-watching days are long gone. Ol’ Bill will, out of habit, tune in and soon thereafter fall sound asleep. I will find myself a good book or call a friend who’s in a similar situation — that being we just don’t care about grown men crashing into each other and referees calling timeouts every couple of minutes, if that. Give me baseball, where at least you can see the faces of the players.

The only thing I know about football goes back to my high school days when going to a game was a social event as far as I was concerned. I sat in the bleachers and cheered along with my girlfriends on the cheering squad: “First and ten, do it again!” “Push ’em back, push ’em back, way back!” “Lean to the left, lean to the right, stand up, sit down, fight, fight, fight!” To this day, I have no clue what any of that means — except now that I look at it in black and white, that last one sounds pretty darn political. I’m not even sure who was president when I was in high school. Eisenhower? That’s about as political as I was going to be, at least until I was old enough to vote.

I didn’t care about football, I didn’t care about politics, and to be honest, I didn’t care all that much about much of anything. To be fair, my high school didn’t offer much in the way of stimulation, physical or mental. As Ol’ Bill recalls, if you were a boy, you were on the football team whether you liked it or not. Ah, the good old days.

So the hype is on and the game isn’t even until February. Bad Bunny. Give me a break. Where’s my book? Rod Stewart can be my background music.