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Samsung’s history with the NFL has been one of deep integration, making the split all the more jarring. The South Korean tech giant inked its first major league deal in 2006 as the Official HDTV Partner, pouring millions into high-def stadium screens and Super Bowl ad spots that became cultural touchstones—remember the 2013 “Talking Babies” Galaxy commercial or the 2012 flash mob to The Darkness’ “I Believe in a Thing Called Love”? By 2013, Samsung expanded to a full-fledged sponsorship, collaborating on venue tech at Allegiant Stadium for Super Bowl LVIII and SoFi Stadium, where its 70,000-square-foot Infinity Screens turned games into immersive spectacles. The company even extended its reach internationally, becoming the Official TV Partner for NFL broadcasts in the UK and Ireland in 2024, streaming Super Bowl LVIII to 3.4 million British fans. For Super Bowl LX, Samsung had committed to a $40 million package, including in-stadium activations, halftime-adjacent branding, and AR experiences tied to its latest Galaxy foldables—envisioned as a seamless fusion of tech and tailgate culture.

The flashpoint? Bad Bunny, born Benito Antonio Martínez Ocasio in Vega Baja, Puerto Rico, whose September 29 announcement as headliner sent shockwaves through conservative circles. The 32-year-old reggaeton icon, with 45 billion Spotify streams and a discography blending trap, salsa, and social commentary, represents a bold pivot for Roc Nation—the Jay-Z-led firm co-producing the show since 2019. Bad Bunny’s selection follows Kendrick Lamar’s record-breaking 2025 performance (133.5 million viewers, the most-watched ever) and Usher’s 2024 Las Vegas extravaganza. Billed as the first all-Spanish halftime set, it’s poised to shatter barriers: “This is for my people, my culture, and our history,” Bad Bunny said in his announcement video, perched on a beachside goalpost in a Hector Lavoe-inspired suit. Yet, from the jump, it courted controversy. MAGA influencers decried it as “woke pandering,” with petitions to swap him for George Strait topping 100,000 signatures on Change.org. Rumors swirled of ICE agents patrolling the stadium and Elon Musk yanking Tesla’s sponsorship—debunked by Snopes but amplified on X. Trump himself weighed in on Newsmax: “I’ve never heard of him—sounds like a bad choice for America’s game.” Homeland Security Secretary Kristi Noem vowed ICE presence: “They won’t sleep at night knowing they’ve platformed this.”

Samsung’s statement, released at 2:15 p.m. ET via its U.S. corporate blog, drips with pointed nationalism: “While we celebrate diversity in innovation, the Super Bowl’s halftime tradition has long been a showcase of American artistry—from Prince to Beyoncé. As a global company, we respect cultural exchange, but this misalignment in vision compels us to redirect our partnership energies elsewhere.” Insiders whisper the decision crystallized after internal focus groups—commissioned post-announcement—showed a 15% dip in appeal among core U.S. consumers, Samsung’s bread-and-butter for Galaxy sales. “It’s not just Bad Bunny; it’s the optics,” a Seoul-based exec told Reuters anonymously. “In Trump’s America, ‘American’ sells screens.” The withdrawal voids a multi-year renewal teased in October, potentially opening doors for rivals like Verizon or AT&T, who’ve eyed NFL slots amid 5G wars.

The NFL, caught flat-footed, issued a measured response by 4 p.m.: “We value Samsung’s longstanding partnership and regret their decision. The Apple Music Halftime Show, curated with Roc Nation, celebrates the full spectrum of musical excellence—past, present, and global. Bad Bunny’s historic performance will unite millions, as always.” Commissioner Roger Goodell, in a Wednesday presser, doubled down: “Criticism is part of the game—we’ve weathered it before. Bad Bunny is one of the world’s top artists; this will be an exciting, united moment.” Jay-Z, via Roc Nation, fired back on X: “They love him until the stage lights hit. Bad Bunny’s breaking barriers, not bending to them.” Yet, the damage ripples: Levi’s Stadium activations—envisioned as interactive Galaxy zones with AR player stats—now hang in limbo, and ad inventories scramble to fill the void.

Backlash has been swift and stratified. Latino groups like the League of United Latin American Citizens (LULAC) slammed Samsung as “corporate nativism,” launching a #BoycottSamsung petition that’s hit 250,000 signatures in hours. “Puerto Rico is America—Bad Bunny is American,” LULAC president Domingo Garcia tweeted, echoing Bad Bunny’s own retort: “The Super Bowl is for everyone who bleeds red, white, and blue—or salsa.” Celebrities piled on: Jennifer Lopez, who shared the 2020 stage with Bad Bunny, posted a throwback clip: “History repeats—first they ignore, then they fight, then we win.” Rosalía and J Balvin trended with solidarity remixes. On the flip, conservative outlets cheered: Fox & Friends hailed it as “a win for real America,” while Turning Point USA floated an “alternative halftime” with country stars—rumors debunked but fueling the fire. Samsung stock dipped 2.3% in Seoul trading, but U.S. sales projections hold steady, per analysts at JPMorgan.

This isn’t isolated—it’s symptomatic of a polarized Super Bowl ecosystem. Roc Nation’s tenure has diversified lineups: Shakira/J.Lo in 2020, Dr. Dre’s West Coast medley in 2022, Lamar’s 2025 critique-laden set that drew FCC murmurs. Bad Bunny’s all-Spanish pledge amplifies that: a cultural coup for Latinx fans (15% of U.S. population, 40 million strong), but a red flag for those clinging to the event’s “heartland” mythos. “The halftime show’s evolved from Up with People to global icons,” says USC media prof Josh Braun. “Samsung’s exit? It’s less about Bunny, more about betting on backlash bucks in MAGA markets.”

As Levi’s Stadium preps for game day—capacity 68,500, plus 20,000 standing—eyes turn to fallout. Will more sponsors balk? (Rumors swirl of Pepsi hedging its Apple Music tie-in.) Bad Bunny, unfazed, teased on Instagram: “They tried to cancel the conga line—now watch us dance.” For Samsung, it’s a high-stakes gamble: alienate global youth for heartland loyalty? The Super Bowl, once a monolith of unity, fractures further—American game, indeed, but whose America? In Santa Clara come February, the answer may boom in Spanish, screens aglow with whoever fills the void.