Selling the Superbowl

So I still think I may go out and try to re-solicit my idea for a commercial that the NFL didn’t think was worthy of winning “Best Super Bowl Commercial” a few years ago. I, along with hundreds of other marketing wannabes, lined up outside the Meadowlands in the middle of winter for a contest – American Idol style, with judges and all – to see who could come up with the most original ad for Superbowl Sunday. I didn’t win it, suffice to say, and after having seen the winning segment – all 70 seconds of it – I’ve decided those judges were on crack.

I’m still waiting for some station manager to  grab this baby and run with it. Of course, if I catch you stealing my idea, I’m going to have The Mister’s Uncle Nunzio come and pay you a visit, or worse yet, pay your mother a visit.

So envision this for a Super Bowl Sunday ad:

Four or five women sitting around an enormous big screen TV swigging Coronas, belching, and devouring a giant bag of Doritos with guacamole, sitting back in their recliners and adjusting their crotches during the time outs. During the butt-slapping and chest crunching of the players after a touchdown, one of the women (preferably me playing this part) says, “Check out his tight end.”

Signal audio: Uproarious laughter, snorting, hand slapping.

From upstairs, the voice of a man (I’d cast the very testosterone-rich Chris Cooley of the Redskins) is heard yelling down to his wife (played by his disgustingly cute real life bride, Christie), “Honey, have you seen my car keys?”

“Oh my God,” she thinks, “Is he really asking me such a mundane question during this important play? Audio: Shhhhushes all around.

She impatiently replies, “They’re probably wherever you left them last!” (Mumbling…”Jeeez, if his head weren’t attached to his thick neck….,” with the other women nodding in affirmation.)

The women continue to hoot and holler for their favorite team, interspersed with flying toenail clippings, smelly socks being shoved between the sofa cushions, and of course, the continuous belching and gas letting.

Finally, Irritating Husband quietly enters the room, trying not to bother the women who are so intently staring at the television screen.  He whisphers to his wife, “Hon, I found my keys…I’m gonna just take off because they are having a great shoe sale over at DSW.”

Without taking her eyes off the game, she reaches into her back pocket and hands him her credit card and says, “Bajesus, just go already, have a good time.”

Voice-over from that guy who has the great football narrating voice, saying “Superbowl Sunday….the more things change, the more they stay the same.”

So that’s the ad. Let the bidding wars begin…NFL? ESPN? Anybody? Not you Fox….


1 Comment

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One response to “Selling the Superbowl

  1. Modown

    Oh, and god forbid, they should have their laptops in their lap (go figure) to keep up their scores on “Fantasy Football” Don’t ever speak a word to them if their favorite team is losing!

    Modown 🙂


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