So far, Roger Goodell’s compass has pointed the NFL in the right direction. Indeed, his intolerance of off-field shenanigans may eventually save the players from themselves. But this latest idea floating around the league offices, Mr. Commissioner, might be the worst since the one-and-done “NFL Talent Contest” of the late ’80s.
A Super Bowl in London? I say, have you gone daft, old chap?
The mere mention of such a thing should hit every football fan with the force of a blindside blitz. And yet, there Goodell was the other day, broaching the subject after lunching with the SB 43 host committee in Arizona. I keep waiting for the league to issue a clarification, to tell us, “It was the tequila talking.”
But no, the commish was dead serious, it seems. “There is a great deal of interest in holding a Super Bowl in London,” he told reporters.
Now I know it was the tequila talking. In fact, I’m beginning to wonder whether he wound up with the worm.
To take America’s premier sports event and ship it overseas — to what, balance the trade deficit? — isn’t just morally reprehensible, there should be a federal law against it. Memo to Congress: Want to score some points with your constituents? Threaten to repeal the NFL’s antitrust exemption if it even dreams of exporting the Super Bowl.
It’s bad enough the price of a ticket — $600 to $700 for the last Ultimate Game — will soon overtake the cost of a college education. Now fans may be required to pay airfare to London if they want to see the Super Bowl. (We won’t even talk about how expensive it would be to spend several days in one of the world’s most luxurious cities.)
Outside of Bill Gates and Warren Buffett — who would probably bunk together to save a buck — how many of us could afford such an excursion?
Imagine Arsenal and Manchester United coming to the U.S. to decide England’s soccer championship. Actually, don’t even waste your time imagining because it would never happen, not in a million tea times. Some things just aren’t done — by people with a conscience, anyway — and one of them is to move the title game of a nation’s most popular sport off-site, away from the folks who have made it the most popular sport.
You want to play a preseason game overseas? Fine. Play all of ’em overseas if you want. A Week 8 matchup between the Giants and Dolphins? Not very considerate of Miamians, who would have played host to the game, but OK as long as it’s a one-shot deal.
But the Super Bowl?
Tell me I’m being punked.
The NFL apparently was impressed that it took less than two hours to sell the first 40,000 tickets to the Giants-Dolphins scrum. A Super Bowl at Wembley Stadium, the league figures, would be a cinch sellout, with 95,000 blokes singing, “For He’s A Jolly Good Fellow,” every time somebody scores a touchdown.
Forgotten in all this Anglophilia is the less-than-scintillating track record of NFL Europa in Great Britain. Once upon a time, you may recall, there was a team in London called the Monarchs. Alas, the NFL pulled the plug on the franchise in 1998 and replaced it with one in Berlin. There also was, for a decade, a team in Scotland. But the Claymores, as they were dubbed, had feet of clay and were dropped in favor of a club in Hamburg. When the league was shut down this year — after losing a reported $30 million a season — Goodell said it was the “best business decision.”
But suddenly, just a few months later, it has become a good business decision — or at least, one worth considering — to FedEx the Super Bowl to London. Yup, it must have been the Jose Cuervo.
Enough with the lend-lease. After all, this ain’t the Battle of Britain, it’s Our Super Bowl, the highest holy day on America’s sporting calendar. The Brits would never get suckered into something like this. Oh, sure, they’ll loan us David Beckham for a spell, let him come over here to teach us how to pull hamstrings, but that’s as far as they’d ever go.
Not the NFL, though. Think of Roger Goodell as the King and the owners as the House of Lords. And think of NFL fans, the ones putting most of the money in their pockets, as serfs — powerless drudges who can easily be replaced by the next name on the waiting list. Like any commissioner, Goodell wants to put his own personal stamp on his era, but his compass is off this time. It’s pointing due south.
Please read our comment policy before commenting.