NFL, are you ready for greatness?
Posted by keithosaunders on February 10, 2011
Another Super Bowl is history and we now stagger into the dark period of the sports year when there is nothing to watch but meaningless regular season NBA and NHL games until the opening day of the baseball season comes to the rescue. This year the doldrums will be a few days shorter owing to MLB having moved their opening day three days earlier than usual to March 31st.
But I digress. It was a good, not a great game. The Packers dominated the first half until Pittsburgh obliged us by putting up a good fight in the second half only to fall short. Boo hoo — they have enough championships.
What I really want to talk about is the halftime show, which was an abomination. If the Black Eyed Peas is the best that the NFL can offer then maybe they ought to throw in the towel and go back to using Up With People. I appreciate that the NFL is making an effort to appeal to a younger demographic, but for gods sake, don’t do it with mediocrity! Better to trot out old leviathans such as The Who or The Stones. At least they could rock at one point. (albeit a point that is now decades in the rear view mirror)
Sending the Black Eyed Peas out to do a halftime show is like asking Pee Wee Herman to play Hamlet. It’s not in their skill-set. Fergie?! Give me a break. She sounds like my grandma on acid. What’s more, the one song they do that I would have cared to hear — My Humps — wasn’t suitable for Middle America. That’s the song with these catchy lyrics:
What you gon’ do with all that junk?
All that junk inside your trunk?
I’ma get, get, get, get, you drunk,
Get you love drunk off my hump.
My hump, my hump, my hump, my hump, my hump,
My hump, my hump, my hump, my lovely little lumps
Cole Porter couldn’t have said it better.
Fortunately for the NFL, I am here to solve their halftime problem. Commishioner Goodell, if you want to hire an A-one class act that is professional, supremely talented, and under-the-radar, do yourself a favor and run, do not walk, to hire Cedar Walton. There isn’t a better jazz pianist out there. He’ll sound great, he’ll look marvellous, and best of all he will not embarrass you!
Not only does Cedar bring excellence to the table, but he will imbue the halftime show with the dignity deserving of such event. Us middle-aged jazzers will be thrilled to finally see our hero get his due, and the oldtimers will be happy not to have to fiddle with their hearing aids. The youngsters will also be happy as long as you play up the fact that jazz is the most hated music of all time. To them, seeing Cedar on the stage will be an enormous ‘fuck you’ to the yuppies that are pining to see the milquetoast bands of their youth. Not seeing Foreigner, Aerosmith, or Madonna on the stage will be worth putting up with ten minutes of hellaciously swinging hardbop.
Furthermore, I guarantee you that Cedar’s price tag will be hundreds of thousands less than The Police would have been. It’s a win-win situation. And just think how good those special effects will look to the sounds of Bolivia!