I wish we could all just wait a few weeks to let the Super Bowl get a bit cold in our minds before we start throwing around terms like “Best Super Bowl Ever.” That always annoys me: some idiot sportscaster is always throwing around “best”, “all-time”, and “greatest” in every game, to the point where it loses all meaning. There’s nothing wrong with “pretty good”, people, and that was a pretty good game last night. Certainly belongs in the conversation of Best Ever. But let’s wait a few weeks, huh?
And the halftime show. Sure, Springsteen did a nice set – he shoved his crank in the camera with that badly-timed power slide of his, which was far, far more offensive that anything Janet Jackson could have dreamed up. But even though I was in high school when Born in the USA came out and his “Dancing in the Dark” video with Courtney Cox was all MTV could show, I’ve never been a Bruce guy. Never owned any of his albums, don’t have any of his songs on my MP3 player. His entire Jersey working-class schtick never resonated with me – I grew up in working-class Raytown, Missouri, so any romance or poetry about the situation was pretty much lost on me at an early point.
And to all the baby-boomer producers of the Super Bowl, a 60-year-old Bruce Springteen is about as hip and current as they’re willing to provide after Janet ruined it for everyone. The kids aren’t going to be allowed to sit at the big table for a while – we won’t have Kanye or Spoon or the Ting Tings until they’re 60 years of age.