Brruuuce! Is He Bigger Than the Game?

TAMPA, Fla. -- Admittedly, I am worried. I've seen too many giggly sportswriters, too many smackgobbed football players and too many awestruck NFL officials who usually act like cardboard cutouts. I never felt this way when the Stones were being censored, when Prince did "Purple Rain'' in a downpour, when Tom Petty dug into his nasal cavity on "Free Fallin','' when Britney swapped spit with Aerosmith or even when Justin Timberlake gave Janet Jackson's outfit a ripple...

And let the world see her nipple.

But for the first time, as the lines between sports and entertainment blur into an almost indistinguishable blob, my sense is that the Super Bowl halftime show might be as big -- or bigger -- than the Super Bowl itself.

Around 8 p.m. Sunday on Thunder Road, out where there's a darkness on the edge of town, it's entirely possible that Bruce Springsteen will take his stand in Jungleland and render the NFL championship game less significant than these words: "In the day we sweat it out in the streets of a runaway American dream. At night we ride through mansions of glory in suicide machines.''

Funny, I've heard more people debate what Springsteen's song list should be than whether the Steelers will beat the Cardinals. Would you believe Las Vegas sports books are taking action on the list? That could be a commentary on a dry matchup, the lack of transcendent stars on both teams or, more likely, the giddy anticipation of BRRRUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCE!!! finally appearing on the sports stage after years of resisting the commercial trappings. The troubadour himself, for the record, isn't confirming which songs he'll perform.

Anything but "Glory Days,'' the overplayed jock-rock anthem, is fine with me.

"I'm the Boss! The Boss decides what we play!" the Boss said light-heartedly to a packed audience of those same giggly sportswriters, most of whom would quit their jobs in a wobbly profession to become Springsteen roadies. "Nobody else decides. People suggest... hint... beg... cajole... but I decide."

For a man who hadn't conducted a press conference in more than 20 years, Springsteen was in a swell, joking mood . Time was when the Super Bowl halftime show was an afterthought, or a disgrace, with the emotional 9/11 tribute by U2 absurdly offset two years later by Jackson's FCC-condemned wardrobe malfunction. The next year, when Paul McCartney agreed to perform, NFL public-relations man Brian McCarthy was told before a press conference that the former Beatle's pants zipper was down. Could you imagine another wardrobe malfunction, male rock-star version? McCartney, meet McCarthy.

"We never wanted to hear those words again," the league publicist said at a Super Bowl-related breakfast. "I did approach Sir Paul and whispered into his ear, 'I think we're about to have a wardrobe malfunction. Can you check your zipper?' Indeed, it was down.'' Sir Paul pulled up his fly, and there would be no Helter Skelter for a second straight year.

You can assume Springsteen and his E Street Band members will be clothed properly. He listed three reasons why he finally broke down after two decades of rejected NFL invitations. The first is that the Super Bowl halftime slot no longer feels like a circus ring. "Initially, it was sort of a novelty and so it didn't quite feel right,'' he said. "But it was just like, this is the year. Bands of our generation, you can sort of be seen on a stage like this or, like, not seen. There's not a lot of middle places. It is a tremendous venue.''



Damn right it is, the biggest stage in entertainment, with more than 148 million U.S. viewers tuning in Petty and the Heartbreakers last year. Which brings us to the second reason: Springsteen's new CD, "Working on a Dream,'' released last week in advance of a world tour that starts April 1. I'll pause here so Bruce purists can call him a sellout. "Really, why we said yes this year was because we have a new album coming out!'' he said wryly.

"Come on. There's a new record in the stores. It just happened to come out this past week. So we have our mercenary reasons, of course. Besides our deep love of football.''

Anyone who would record "Nebraska,'' a slow record which effectively served to quell raging Brucemania, isn't in it for the money. "Good times,'' he said. "You just have years where things happen, or years where it's quieter. But what's special for me right now is I really believe our band is going through sort of a golden age. We've made three of what I think are some of our best records in a row, which is really one of the reasons we're here. And the band, on the last tour, played the best it has ever played. We've been on the road awhile. We're some old soldiers. But the band is still really burning, and I really want people to know about the record. Good year, you know? It's been great.

"You can come out and do what you do and its a good spot. The main thing is that I'm proud of this band. We stayed together, we stayed alive -- which is hard to do in our business. You're working alongside people you went to high school with 40 years ago. It's the long ride that it's all about.''

Mostly, a 59-year-old rocker wants to "play like we're 16.'' Elaborating, he invoked the New Jersey experience that always will define him. "We want it to be a 12-minute party,'' he said. "The idea of the show is, you are going to the Meadowlands, you get lost on the way. You are watching your clock, 'Damn, the show is starting right now.' You stop at a bar to get some directions, and the bar gets held up while you are there. So that takes another 45 minutes to get out of there. You come back and you miss your exit on the Turnpike, and you're driving to get back around. And so you make it to the stadium two hours and 48 minutes into the show -- that's what you are going to see: the last 12 minutes.''

The press conference served as an amphetamine to quite possibly the most boring lead-up week of the 43 Super Bowls. Everyone was writing the same five stories, myself included -- Kurt Warner's re-rebirth, Larry Fitzgerald and his sportswriting father, the Steelers' place in the pantheon of sports greatness, the improbable rise of the Cardinals and the criss-crossing quirk that finds Arizona coach Ken Whisenhunt, rejected by the Steelers for the head-coaching position won by Mike Tomlin, trying to beat his former employer. Oh, and don't forget Hines Ward's sprained knee. Thing is, you'll never guess what inter ests Ward as much as his knee and hyperbaric oxygen chamber.

"I love Bruce. I hope he plays 'Born in the USA,' '' the Pittsburgh receiver said. "He has a great voice when he says, 'Boorrrn.' He has a lot of swag about himself. He's very confident. When he's up there performing, it's all about him.''

At halftime, I pity Whisenhunt and Tomlin. Will anything they say have any chance of resonating?

"Maybe I'll sneak out early (during halftime),'' Steelers kicker Jeff Reed said. "When coach is talking to the team, I usually sneak out and go kick anyways, so maybe I'll go watch him.''

Said Steelers defensive end Brett Keisel: "I love the Boss. I saw the Boss in Pittsburgh. When we found out that the Boss was going to be playing, we felt we had a good chance to come down here. He's a lucky charm for us. Hopefully, I can meet him. Hopefully, I can jam out a little.''

One player you won't worry about is the biggest name in the game. "I'm not really a music fan much at all,'' Warner said. "It's not a knock on the Boss. Bruce Springsteen and the band, they do a tremendous job. I'm just not a huge music fan. So I don't listen to a lot of music. I don't know a lot of songs. I know the name, and it's kind of cool to have him performing at the Super Bowl, but I just don't know a lot about his music.''

Still, I'm worried. I envision a scene where Springsteen is finishing out his set, and almost 100 football players, even Warner, are staring at the band in a collective standstill. If the game stinks, I have no doubt we'll remember Super Bowl XLIII for the Boss. Even if the game doesn't stink, I have no doubt we'll remember Super Bowl XLIII for the Boss. And you know the craziest thing?

"I don't know anything about football,'' he said. "I did play the game in my backyard around the summer of 1958.''

Sounds like the beginnings of a new song.