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Super Bowl Frothing Hype
Festival
By Bill Zahren
(Posted 01/29/99)
Just for the record, we're nearing the end of
the Week of Obligatory Frothing, better known by its original
name, Super Bowl Week. You may think that Super Bowl Week
has just seven days, like any standard week. But, it actually
extends for no less than 26.8 days.
Thanks to massive corporate sponsorships, the
Super Bowl™ has managed to extend every day of the last week
in January by 2.3 hours so they can ram in still more coverage.
In a watershed marketing event, a large, darkly dressed Worldwide
Advertising Agency somewhere managed to slow the rotation
of the Earth by simultaneously throwing their collective cellular
phones at Northern Canada from a low-flying plane. The result?
2.3 extra hours of coverage each and every day.
Basically, there are 3,500 reporters swirling
around Super Bowl™ host town Miami looking for some way to
pad their expense accounts. I was a reporter for nine years
and, although I didn't cover an actual Super Bowl™, I did
once cover the Iowa state volleyball tournament, which is
basically the Super Bowl™ with makeup, pony tails, lots of
jumping up and down and high-pitched screaming.
During the two weeks before the Super Bowl™,
the Media Horde swirls around in a giant clot, boom mikes
and lights protruding above their angry mass like some kind
of Mass Comm antenna. They go from player to player, asking
the same questions over and over. If part of the Horde does
happen to break off and talk to a different player, pretty
soon members of the main horde will come over one at a time
until the entire horde has migrated to the new player in a
very amoebae-like fashion. They do this because we Media Types
fear "MISSING THE STORY."
Trust me, reporters (and you know who you are)
would much rather take a ball peen hammer to some body joint
than MISS THE STORY. So, if Channel 6 has audio of some cornerback
talking about why he didn't get braces as a child, BY GOD,
you better have a "little item" on it for your paper or your
editor will scowl at you. Papers choose editors based on their
ability to scowl and to work many hours wearing the same clothes
in return for a 1.08% pay raise every 18 months.
This year the BIG STORY was The Triangle of
Hate, an alleged feud between Denver QB John Elway, Atlanta
coach Dan Reeves and Denver coach Mike Shanahan. Then, just
when The Media had run out of slugs to pump into that dead
horse story, they got a break and the Super Bowl™ Trash Yap
Off between Denver tight end Shannon Sharpe and Atlanta cornerback
Ray Buchanan broke out. An actual exchange, as read on espn.com:
Sharpe: "Tell Ray to put the eyeliner, the lipstick
and the high heels away. I'm not saying he's a cross-dresser;
that's just what I heard."
Buchanan: "But Shannon looks like a horse. I'll
tell you, that's an ugly dude. You can't tell me he
doesn't look like Mr. Ed."
That, my former managing editor would say, is
"juicy stuff." I'd be all over that like white on rice. Of
course the main attraction of the Super Game for many, many
media personnel is that they generally get in free. And, I've
heard they have a lovely buffet in the press box. Everyone
wants to deliver Total Coverage for their readers/viewers/listeners,
so they all send 10 to 12 media personnel each. Once those
reporters are all at the Super Bowl and fitted with their
special passes, they then feel obligated to generate many
stories during the week to justify their huge beverage and
hotel bills. The result is a swirl of stories that quickly
becomes Hurricane Hype.
Fortunately, we eventually do play some football,
which seems almost like something to break up the pre-game,
half-time and post-game shows. Many also watch the game just
for the commercials. At something like $2 million a minute,
you know you'll see the best ads America can produce. So get
up early on Sunday and tune in the 21-hour-long pregame show.
Watch replays of all the 32 previous Super Bowls, tape the
ads and then gear up for a half time long enough to stage
Handel's Messiah.
Oh yeah, and they might play some football in
there somewhere, too.
© 1999 Bill Zahren
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