Super Bowl 44
I’m reading reports about the cancellation of gala, big-ticket events surrounding this weekend’s Super Bowl, a true sign of the economic apocalypse. Playboy and Sports Illustrated both cancelled what in the past have been some of the hottest parties taking place in the host city. Restaurants and strip clubs–both big attractions during Super Bowl week–are reporting sagging sales. And celebrity golf and poker tournaments have been abruptly cancelled this week because corporate sponsorships have disappeared. Analysts are predicting at least a 20% drop in revenues for Tampa associated with the Super Bowl, with less visitors and less spending this weekend. Hotel rooms are still available. And so are tickets–the official ticket site, TicketsNow, has hundreds if not thousands of tickets available, ranging from $1600 for the upper deck to $197,000 for one of two dozen unsold luxury boxes.
This is unprecedented. There seems to be little demand, and very little interest, in what’s usually the first major holiday of the year for Americans.
But now I realize we already celebrated our Super Bowl. A week ago. On January 20th.
There was no cutback on celebrations, or parties, or ticket demand for events surrounding the inauguration. It sold out instantly, but that didn’t stop people from showing up. All the celebrities were there, as were a million, literally, fans. Not to mention the millions more who watched it on TV and online.
The events were eagerly witnessed by a global audience (I know because many of my european friends texted their POVs while they watched the live streams).
Remarkable.
Our culture is always about what’s new. For the first time in a long, long time, the cultural catalyst was not a quarterback.
It was a skinny, left-handed basketball player.
