The Super Bowl has long been more than just a championship football game—it’s America’s unofficial national holiday, a cultural juggernaut that draws over 100 million viewers for a blend of sports, commercials, and spectacle. At the heart of that spectacle is the halftime show, a roughly 13-minute intermission that has evolved from marching bands to must-see pop extravaganzas capable of sparking joy, controversy, or both.

Enter Roger Goodell, the NFL’s commissioner since 2006, who has steered the league through labor disputes, scandals, and seismic shifts in entertainment. In recent comments ahead of Super Bowl LX on February 8, 2026, at Levi’s Stadium in Santa Clara, California, Goodell doubled down on the selection of global superstar Bad Bunny as the headliner for the Apple Music Super Bowl Halftime Show. Facing questions about the Puerto Rican artist’s recent outspoken criticism of U.S.

Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) operations—highlighted by his pointed “ICE out” remark during his Grammy Awards acceptance speech just days earlier—Goodell expressed confidence that Bad Bunny “understands” the platform’s purpose.

“This platform is used to unite people and to be able to bring people together with their creativity, with their talent,” Goodell said during his annual state-of-the-league address. He praised Bad Bunny as “one of the great artists in the world,” emphasizing that past performers have harnessed the stage for positive, unifying impact. Goodell’s hope is clear: the performance will transcend politics, delivering entertainment that rallies a fractured nation around shared excitement rather than deepening divides.

But is Goodell right? Can Bad Bunny—Benito Antonio Martínez Ocasio, the 31-year-old trailblazer known as the “King of Latin Trap”—truly bridge America’s deepening cultural and political chasms?

The context is tense. The United States in early 2026 remains profoundly polarized. Debates over immigration policy have intensified amid reports of expanded federal enforcement actions, fueling heated rhetoric from all sides. Bad Bunny, a proud Puerto Rican (and U.S. citizen), has never shied away from advocacy. His music often weaves in themes of identity, social justice, and Puerto Rican pride, and his recent Grammy moment reignited backlash from conservative critics who see his selection as tone-deaf or provocative.

Some in Washington and right-wing media circles have openly questioned the NFL’s choice since it was announced in late 2025, with even high-profile figures weighing in critically.

Yet Goodell’s defense isn’t naive optimism—it’s rooted in the Super Bowl’s proven track record as a rare unifier. Think back to the biggest halftime moments: Michael Jackson’s 1993 moonwalk reborn the format as appointment viewing; Beyoncé’s 2013 Destiny’s Child reunion and 2016’s “Formation” sparked conversations but also massive viewership spikes; The Weeknd’s 2021 spectacle drew universal praise amid pandemic isolation. Even controversial sets, like Madonna’s 2012 show or Shakira and J.Lo’s 2020 celebration of Latin culture, ultimately boosted ratings and cultural reach rather than alienating the masses.

Bad Bunny brings unique potential here. As the first solo Latin artist to headline the Super Bowl halftime show—and potentially the first to perform primarily in Spanish—he represents a demographic shift that’s already reshaping America. Latinos are the fastest-growing segment of the U.S. population, and Bad Bunny’s streaming dominance (billions of plays on platforms like Spotify) proves his crossover appeal. His recent Grammy sweep, including Album of the Year for DeBí TiRaR Más FOToS, underscores his status as a generational force.

The official trailer promises “the world will dance,” teasing high-energy reggaeton, trap beats, and vibrant visuals celebrating Puerto Rican traditions.

For many younger viewers and multicultural households, Bad Bunny isn’t a divisive figure—he’s a unifier by default. His music transcends language barriers, blending infectious rhythms with universal themes of love, heartbreak, and resilience. Families from diverse backgrounds already blast his tracks at parties, barbecues, and workouts. In a nation where sports fandom often crosses political lines, the Super Bowl’s shared ritual—gathering around TVs with wings, dips, and friendly bets—could amplify that. Imagine millions, regardless of views on immigration or politics, swaying to “Tití Me Preguntó” or “BAILE INoLVIDABLE,” phones out recording the spectacle.

Skeptics argue the risk is real. If Bad Bunny veers into overt activism—perhaps a subtle nod to Puerto Rico’s challenges or immigrant communities—it could spark boycotts, social media storms, or fragmented viewership. The NFL, ever image-conscious, has historically preferred apolitical entertainment (though it hasn’t always succeeded). Goodell’s comments read as both reassurance to critics and a gentle reminder to the artist: this isn’t the Grammys; it’s the Super Bowl, where unity sells.

Still, history suggests Goodell might be onto something. The halftime show rarely stays purely neutral, yet it almost always ends up bringing people together in the moment. Viewers tune out politics for those 13 minutes, cheering pyrotechnics, guest appearances (speculation swirls around potential cameos from Cardi B, Drake, or Marc Anthony), and sheer spectacle. Bad Bunny’s charisma, innovative production, and global fanbase could deliver one of the most-watched, most-talked-about performances ever—driving streams, merchandise sales, and even new football fans from underrepresented communities.

In a divided era, true unity might be elusive, but shared cultural experiences remain powerful. The Super Bowl has survived controversies before and emerged stronger. If Bad Bunny delivers a joyful, high-octane celebration of music and heritage without crossing into overt division, Goodell’s bet could pay off handsomely. America might not agree on everything, but for one Sunday in February, we could all agree to dance.

Whether it fully unites a divided nation is uncertain—America’s fault lines run deep. But Roger Goodell is betting on the power of great art and great entertainment to remind us what we have in common. Come February 8, the world will indeed be watching. And perhaps, just perhaps, dancing together.