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My wife and I watched yesterday's football game (it's called the Super Bowl; maybe you've heard of it?) at a house party put on by a couple of friends. It had all the necessary elements: a crowd of good people, a big TV, cold beer, and way too much tasty food, much of it fried. Possibly in deference to the avocado commercials from a few years back, someone even remembered to bring the guacamole. But as tends to happen with Super Bowl parties, especially when the attendees are mostly couples, I'd venture to guess that less than half of the guests actually cared about the game. Some didn't even know the rules. This divide was not at all along gender lines, though one friend did say she was pulling for the San Francisco Giants (apparently she doesn't hold a grudge from the NLCS).
Yes, we football fans were in the minority. Most people were there for the wings and beer, or for Beyonce, or for the commercials. Oh, those glorious commercials. Super Bowl Sunday is the one time of year when it's perfectly acceptable to chat and eat and drink and be merry during the game, then hush everyone and turn up the volume during the ads. And on Monday morning, there are always just as many people ranking the best and worst spots as there are second-guessing the coaching decisions or breaking down the key plays.
And while the Ravens held off a desperate comeback by the 49ers to win on the field, the clear advertising champion was local favorite Anheuser-Busch.
As always, A-B and it's various brands had several commercials, but the one that had everyone talking was titled "The Clydesdales: Brotherhood." Here's the basic plot: Man raises baby Clydesdale. Clydesdale grows up to become famous Budweiser horse. Man watches Clydesdale gallop in parade. Man feels sad, misses years spent training Clydesdale, reflects on their special bond. After parade, Clydesdale sees man walking to his truck. Just as man is about to leave, Clydesdale comes racing around the corner. They embrace. Viewers weep.
Late last night, that ad was all my Facebook friends were talking about. A few posted messages of congratulations to Budweiser. One said it was the best commercial ever. Another said it made his mother cry. A third posted a somewhat cryptic message that he won $75 on the ad. He gave no indication about whether he had bet on the actual game. Perhaps the most fitting tribute to the Clydesdale ad came from a friend who said it was such a tear-jerker, it should have been followed by a Kleenex spot.
Some of Bud's other ads received less positive reviews. The commercials announcing the arrival of Budweiser Black Crown, a new amber lager, fell especially flat, making more than one "worst" or "loser" list.
Then there were a couple of ads continuing Bud Light's string of spots celebrating fan superstition, with the tag lines "it's only weird if it doesn't work" and "for fans who do whatever it takes." With the Super Bowl in New Orleans, the latest installments in this series took on a bit of an eerier, voodoo sort of atmosphere. And they featured Stevie Wonder. In one, a fan asks Wonder, the "Mojo man," to make him a voodoo doll of the other team's player, only to realize that the opposing fan sitting next to him has done the same thing.
In the other ad, a couple of guys have Stevie put a hex on their buddy's lucky chair.
Add it all up, and it was a busy night for A-B. One that ended with a commercial victory, thanks to a cute Clydesdale, with a little help from Stevie Nicks and Fleetwood Mac.
Bonus: It has absolutely nothing to do with St. Louis, but my personal favorite ad was from Taco Bell, called "Viva Young." Enjoy.
