It started as a simple entertainment announcement — and ended in a cultural earthquake. The NFL’s decision to feature Puerto Rican superstar Bad Bunny as the headliner for the 2026 Super Bowl halftime show has triggered outrage, applause, and a media firestorm that shows no signs of burning out.
And leading that firestorm is Fox News commentator and former WWE wrestler Tyrus, who took to the airwaves this week to unleash one of the most explosive critiques yet.
“That’s not the music of America,” Tyrus declared, his voice deep and deliberate. “You can call it art, you can call it culture — but it’s not what this country stands for. The Super Bowl used to be about pride, unity, and power. Now it’s about politics, pandering, and pretending.”
Within minutes, the comment spread like wildfire. Clips flooded Twitter, X, and TikTok. Supporters hailed him as a patriot. Critics called him divisive. And once again, America’s biggest sporting event had become a mirror reflecting the country’s deepest cultural fault lines.
The Flashpoint
Bad Bunny — born Benito Antonio Martínez Ocasio — is one of the most successful artists in the world, with billions of streams, Grammy awards, and a fan base that stretches across languages and continents. To many, his inclusion represents progress: a recognition that Latin music isn’t just a genre anymore, but a global force.
To others, like Tyrus, it’s a betrayal of tradition.
“The Super Bowl is the most American stage on Earth,” he said during his segment on Gutfeld!. “It’s not about exclusion — it’s about representation. But you can’t represent America if you’re not speaking the language of America.”
It was a statement that instantly divided audiences. For some, it was a defense of cultural heritage. For others, it was coded xenophobia — a rejection of multiculturalism dressed in patriotism.
The Moment That Shook the Studio
Eyewitnesses in the Fox studio said the moment Tyrus dropped the line, “That’s not the music of America,” you could feel the air tighten. The host tried to redirect the conversation, but Tyrus kept going, leaning forward with the conviction of a man who knew exactly what buttons he was pressing.
“I’ve got nothing against the guy personally,” he continued. “But when you turn America’s game into an international music festival, you’re telling millions of Americans that their culture doesn’t matter anymore. You’re erasing the heartbeat of the country — one halftime show at a time.”
By the time the segment ended, producers already knew what was coming. The clip was online before the credits rolled, and by dawn, it had ignited a digital inferno.
The Backlash
Within hours, #TyrusVsBadBunny and #NotMyHalftimeShow were trending across platforms. Conservative influencers amplified Tyrus’s comments, calling him “a voice of truth” in a politically correct age. “Finally, someone said it,” one user wrote. “Football isn’t about Spanish lyrics and glitter. It’s about heart, toughness, and the red, white, and blue.”
But the blowback came just as fiercely. Bad Bunny’s fans — a global army of millions — responded in kind. “Tyrus is stuck in 1950,” one viral tweet read. “He’s mad because the world doesn’t revolve around him anymore.”
The clash wasn’t just generational. It was cultural, political, and deeply personal. Latin artists, journalists, and even NFL players weighed in. Miami Dolphins quarterback Tua Tagovailoa defended Bad Bunny, saying, “He’s part of this country too. America’s not one sound — it’s a mix of everything.”
A Familiar Battlefield
If all of this feels familiar, that’s because it is. The Super Bowl halftime show has long been America’s cultural flashpoint — a spectacle where pop culture and politics collide. From Janet Jackson’s “wardrobe malfunction” in 2004 to Beyoncé’s Black Lives Matter-themed performance in 2016, the show has evolved from entertainment into a national referendum on identity.
But this year’s fight is different. It’s not about scandal or symbolism. It’s about language — and what it means to belong.
For decades, the halftime show was dominated by English-speaking rock and pop legends: Springsteen, Prince, Madonna, U2. But as the U.S. population grows more diverse, the NFL has shifted strategy, tapping into global audiences through artists like Shakira, J Balvin, and now Bad Bunny.
To Tyrus, that shift feels like surrender.
“The NFL is trying to sell America to the world,” he said, “but they’re forgetting the people at home who made it what it is.”
Inside the NFL’s Gamble
Behind the scenes, NFL executives insist they’re not making a political statement — they’re following the numbers. Latin music is the fastest-growing genre in the U.S. Streaming data shows that more than 25 percent of Gen Z listeners regularly play Spanish-language tracks. Advertisers see opportunity, not controversy.
“This isn’t about politics,” one league insider told Variety. “It’s about business. The Super Bowl is the biggest stage on the planet. If you want global viewership, you book a global artist.”
Still, executives privately admit that the backlash was bigger than expected. “We knew there’d be pushback,” said one producer. “But not like this. The reaction shows just how divided America still is — not just politically, but culturally.”
Tyrus: The Man Behind the Mic
To understand why Tyrus’s words hit so hard, you have to understand the man himself. Born George Murdoch, Tyrus rose to fame as a WWE wrestler before reinventing himself as a political commentator. His appeal lies in his authenticity — a no-nonsense persona that speaks to audiences who feel ignored by elite media.
“He says what people are thinking,” said one Fox viewer from Texas. “He’s not afraid to offend anyone.”
That bluntness is both his weapon and his weakness. When Tyrus declared that Bad Bunny’s music “isn’t American,” he didn’t just criticize an artist — he challenged an entire demographic.
“He knows exactly what he’s doing,” said media critic Ava Simmons. “He’s tapping into cultural nostalgia — the idea that there was once a ‘pure’ America before everything got complicated. It’s powerful. But it’s also dangerous.”
The Internet Strikes Back
If Tyrus hoped to start a debate, he got one. By the next day, TikTok was flooded with parody videos mocking his comments. Latin creators stitched his clip into skits with captions like “When you realize your abuela’s salsa playlist is more American than you.”
Twitter erupted with counter-hashtags like #WeAreAmericaToo and #SingInAnyLanguage. Even mainstream celebrities joined the conversation. Cardi B posted, “Bad Bunny IS America. The culture IS changing. Deal with it.”
Tyrus didn’t respond directly — but on his next appearance, he doubled down.
“People can tweet whatever they want,” he said. “I’m not backing down. You can call me old-school, but I know what America used to sound like — and it didn’t sound like this.”
The Power of Nostalgia
That phrase — “what America used to sound like” — resonated with millions. For older generations, it evoked an era of shared culture: rock concerts, national anthems, small-town radio stations playing country hits. For younger ones, it felt like a rejection — a refusal to acknowledge that “American music” has always evolved through immigrants, hybrids, and cultural collisions.
“Tyrus is clinging to a myth,” said pop culture historian Dr. Jamie Leighton. “There’s no such thing as a single sound of America. Jazz was once ‘foreign.’ Rock was once ‘rebellious.’ Hip-hop was once ‘dangerous.’ And now Latin music is the next frontier. History keeps repeating — and the critics always lose.”
When Patriotism Becomes Branding
The controversy also exposes how patriotism itself has become a marketing strategy. Every Super Bowl performance now doubles as a political Rorschach test — fans see what they want to see.
To Tyrus and his followers, rejecting Bad Bunny isn’t about race; it’s about reclaiming pride. To his critics, it’s about fear — fear of change, fear of language, fear of losing control over a cultural narrative that’s slipping away.
“It’s performative patriotism,” said journalist Carla Nguyen. “It’s not about protecting American culture. It’s about selling outrage to people who feel left out of it.”
Indeed, Fox’s ratings surged during Tyrus’s segment. Conservative podcasts replayed his comments endlessly, packaging his anger as both entertainment and identity.
The NFL’s Tightrope
Meanwhile, the NFL remains caught between two worlds — one nostalgic, one progressive. League officials insist they’re simply evolving with the times, but they know that every creative choice carries political risk.
“Everything’s political now,” one executive said privately. “Even music. Even football.”
And yet, despite the uproar, the league shows no sign of reversing course. Advertisers have lined up. Streaming deals are set. Bad Bunny’s production team is already deep in rehearsals.
“If anything,” the executive added, “this controversy just made the halftime show even bigger.”
The Cultural Battlefield
The fight over the halftime show is no longer about one artist or one comment. It’s about who gets to define America’s soundtrack. For generations, that soundtrack was dominated by English-speaking artists rooted in classic Americana. Now, it’s being rewritten in real time — in multiple languages, from multiple identities.
“Music doesn’t belong to borders,” said Miami-based DJ Javier Solis. “It belongs to the people who feel it. And right now, millions of Americans feel Bad Bunny. That’s what Tyrus doesn’t understand — America isn’t changing. It already changed.”
The Fallout
As the dust settles, one thing is clear: Tyrus’s remarks struck a chord — not because of what he said, but because of what they revealed. They showed how fragile the idea of cultural ownership has become in a nation built on diversity.
For some, his words were patriotic. For others, they were proof that America’s cultural wars have reached absurd new heights.
Either way, the conversation has already outgrown him.
In the days since his outburst, artists, athletes, and everyday fans have taken to social media to share what “the music of America” means to them. For some, it’s country ballads and Springsteen.
For others, it’s reggaeton, hip-hop, and mariachi. But for most, it’s all of it — a messy, rhythmic, ever-evolving symphony that refuses to be defined by a single voice.
The Final Word
Perhaps the most telling reaction came not from a celebrity, but from a fan who commented under a viral clip of Tyrus’s speech:
“If you think Bad Bunny isn’t American, maybe you don’t know what America really sounds like.”
In that single line, the debate came full circle. Because whether or not you agree with Tyrus, his outrage proves one thing: America is still fighting over who gets to hold the microphone.
But while some cling to the past, others are already singing the future — in English, in Spanish, and in every language that keeps the country alive.
So when Tyrus says, “That’s not the music of America,” maybe he’s right — it’s not the old America. It’s the new one.
And it’s getting louder every day.