The NFL has always treated the Super Bowl halftime show as more than just entertainment. It’s spectacle, branding, a cultural marker that often defines the night as much as the game itself. From Michael Jackson to Beyoncé to Prince in the rain, halftime is where football meets pop history. But this year, the league has lit the fuse on a cultural explosion—and at the center stands Bad Bunny.

When the announcement broke that the Puerto Rican megastar would headline the halftime show, reaction came fast, furious, and divided. On Newsmax, former ESPN anchor Sage Steele unleashed a blistering critique. She called the decision “a betrayal of football’s loyal fans,” accusing the NFL of turning its back on tradition in exchange for “global hype that doesn’t speak to the heart of this game.”

In her words, the NFL wasn’t just booking an artist. It was selling out.

Sage Steele’s Unfiltered Rebuke

Steele, known for her sharp takes and refusal to shy away from cultural firestorms, wasted no time framing the issue. “This isn’t about talent,” she said bluntly on-air. “Bad Bunny is one of the biggest names in the world, and nobody disputes that. But what does he have to do with football? With America’s game? This is the NFL chasing international clicks, not honoring the fans who built this league.”

Her critique tapped instantly into a larger unease. The Super Bowl is often described as America’s last true shared ritual, an event where families gather, ratings shatter records, and advertisers spend fortunes for thirty seconds of airtime. To many, halftime is supposed to be an extension of that identity—a celebration of the country that made the game what it is. Steele argued that by picking Bad Bunny, an artist who has openly criticized U.S. immigration enforcement and once said he did not want to tour in the States, the NFL was actively alienating its base.

“This isn’t American culture,” Steele pressed. “This is pandering to people who don’t even watch the game.”

The Social Media Firestorm

Steele’s words ignited instantly. Within minutes of the broadcast, hashtags like #NotMyHalftime and #BoycottBadBunny were trending on X. Fans flooded forums, some echoing Steele’s frustration that the NFL was “selling tradition for TikTok views.” Others defended the move, calling Bad Bunny’s booking a bold embrace of the global audience the NFL has long courted.

“Football is American,” one critic wrote, “and halftime should reflect that. We’ve gone from Springsteen and Tom Petty to this? What’s next, K-pop at the coin toss?”

Supporters pushed back just as hard. “Bad Bunny is culture right now,” one fan tweeted. “He’s bigger than the NFL worldwide. If anything, this brings new fans into the game.”

By midnight, the argument had split cleanly down cultural and generational lines. Older fans leaned heavily toward Steele’s critique, while younger audiences—many of whom consume football highlights via Instagram reels more than cable broadcasts—celebrated the choice.

Why the NFL Bet on Bad Bunny

Behind the noise lies a calculated gamble. The NFL has spent years trying to push football beyond America’s borders. Games in London and Frankfurt sell out. Partnerships with streaming platforms bring highlights to Asia and Latin America. But in terms of cultural export, nothing rivals the halftime show.

In Bad Bunny, the league sees a golden ticket. He is not just a musician; he is a phenomenon. The most streamed artist in the world on Spotify for three consecutive years. A crossover star with WWE, Hollywood films, and fashion empires. His reach dwarfs that of most American icons.

NFL executives believe tapping him is a way to future-proof the sport: to keep football relevant not just in Dallas and Detroit, but in São Paulo, Seoul, and San Juan. The question Steele raised, however, is whether chasing that future means sacrificing the present—the domestic audience that built the league into a $100 billion empire.

The Shadow of Politics

Part of the controversy stems not just from Bad Bunny’s fame, but his politics. The artist has frequently criticized U.S. immigration enforcement policies, aligning himself with progressive movements that clash with conservative football audiences. He once declared that he had no interest in touring the United States, a comment that resurfaced immediately after the halftime announcement.

For fans who see football as one of the last escapes from political warfare, the booking landed like a provocation. Steele herself noted, “We already live in a culture where everything is political. Now even halftime has to be a political statement?”

Her words resonated, especially among fans already frustrated by past controversies—from Colin Kaepernick’s kneeling protests to debates over anthem performances. The NFL has tried to walk a tightrope between activism and apoliticism, but the Bad Bunny booking has many arguing the league just jumped headfirst into another culture war.

Lessons From Halftime History

The NFL has been here before. Janet Jackson and Justin Timberlake’s infamous “wardrobe malfunction” in 2004 sparked FCC fines, congressional hearings, and years of “safe” bookings with rock legends. Beyoncé’s politically charged 2016 performance drew both praise and boycotts. Shakira and Jennifer Lopez’s 2020 show brought cultural pride to millions but drew complaints from parents about overt sexuality.

Halftime, in other words, has always been contested space—a stage where music collides with America’s anxieties. The Bad Bunny controversy fits neatly into this lineage, except for one key difference: never before has the NFL so openly embraced an artist with such global reach but so little cultural connection to football itself.

Prince played in the rain. U2 performed after 9/11. Those shows felt woven into the national fabric. Bad Bunny’s show, critics argue, risks feeling imported, grafted onto the event without roots in the game.

The Marketing Machine vs. Fan Loyalty

The economic argument for Bad Bunny is obvious. Advertisers crave global reach. Streaming partners salivate at the idea of halftime clips going viral in Spanish, Portuguese, and Korean feeds. The NFL’s partners in Mexico and Europe are already promoting the show as proof that football is becoming a global product.

But loyalty isn’t built on algorithms. Fans in Kansas City, Buffalo, or Green Bay aren’t necessarily interested in seeing their game turned into a globalized brand experiment. They want halftime to feel like an extension of what they love: toughness, tradition, a sense of America’s story told through song.

As one fan posted after Steele’s comments: “We don’t need the world’s approval. We just need football.”

Can Bad Bunny Win Over the Stadium?

The open question now is whether Bad Bunny can win over the live audience in the stadium—the beating heart of the Super Bowl experience. Stadium crowds are notoriously unforgiving when they sense disconnect. Booing at halftime is rare, but not impossible. If fans feel pandered to rather than celebrated, the backlash could be brutal.

On the other hand, Bad Bunny’s artistry and charisma are undeniable. His ability to fuse reggaeton, rap, and pop into electrifying performances has carried him to sold-out stadiums worldwide. If he delivers a halftime show that dazzles visually and sonically, the critics may be drowned out by sheer spectacle.

Still, Steele’s warning lingers. “It’s not about whether he puts on a good performance. It’s about whether the NFL even remembers who it’s playing for anymore.”

The Stakes for the NFL

For the NFL, the halftime show has never carried higher stakes. Ratings will almost certainly be massive no matter what, but the question is reputational. If fans walk away feeling alienated, the league risks deepening cultural divides that already threaten to fragment its audience. If the show soars, the NFL can argue it has successfully positioned itself as not just America’s game, but the world’s.

“This isn’t just a concert,” said one marketing executive. “It’s a referendum on where the NFL wants to go—and whether fans are willing to follow.”

Conclusion: The Gamble of a Generation

The NFL has always thrived on risk-taking—from bold fourth-down calls to billion-dollar expansions. But the choice of Bad Bunny as halftime headliner may be the boldest gamble yet.

Sage Steele’s fiery critique crystallized the debate: is the league honoring its core, or abandoning it? Is halftime about reflecting America back to itself, or about broadcasting America to the world?

The answer may not come until the final firework fades on Super Bowl Sunday. By then, fans will know whether Bad Bunny’s performance united or divided, whether the NFL’s gamble secured a new generation—or betrayed the one that carried it this far.

For now, one thing is undeniable: halftime has once again become the real main event.