In a move that has ignited a fresh wave of cultural and political debate, President Donald J. Trump has officially announced that he will skip Super Bowl 60. This decision marks a significant departure from the historical precedent he set just one year ago in New Orleans, where he became the first sitting U.S. President to attend the championship game in person. Now, at 79 years old and back in the White House, Trump’s absence from the 2026 title game at Levi’s Stadium in Santa Clara, California, has drawn as much attention as the matchup between the New England Patriots and the Seattle Seahawks.
In a recent and characteristically candid interview with the New York Post, the President laid out a twofold rationale for his decision: a mix of practical logistics and a profound distaste for the event’s chosen entertainers. Primarily, Trump pointed to the cross-country journey as the deciding factor. With the game being held in Northern California—a significant distance from both the capital in Washington, D.C., and his personal residence in Florida—the President cited the rigors of travel as a major deterrent. “It’s just too far away,” Trump remarked, though he was quick to maintain his popular standing with the sports world, adding, “They like me at the Super Bowl.” He suggested that had the venue been closer to home, his attendance would have been far more likely.
However, the conversation quickly pivoted from flight paths to cultural grievances. President Trump utilized the interview to launch a scathing critique of the NFL’s entertainment roster, specifically targeting the halftime headliner, Bad Bunny, and the opening ceremony act, Green Day. His assessment was blunt and uncompromising, labeling the musical choices “terrible” and asserting that they served only to “sow hatred.” Most notably, he described his stance toward the performers with the succinct phrase, “I’m anti-them.”
The friction between the President and these specific artists is rooted in long-standing political and social disagreements. Bad Bunny, born Benito Antonio Martínez Ocasio, has leveraged his global superstardom to frequently criticize U.S. immigration policies and advocate for social justice—positions that directly clash with the Trump administration’s platform. The Puerto Rican artist has previously used his music and public platform to satirize the President and has even voiced concerns regarding the safety of his fans in the face of heightened immigration enforcement.
Similarly, the inclusion of Green Day has ruffled feathers within the administration. The veteran rock band, fronted by Billie Joe Armstrong, has spent decades using their music to critique government authority and conservative politics. From their iconic American Idiot era to more recent live performances where they have explicitly altered lyrics to target Trump, the band has become a symbol of counter-cultural resistance. By choosing these artists, the NFL has waded into a polarized landscape where entertainment and activism are increasingly indistinguishable.
Despite the President’s public denunciation, the NFL has remained firm in its selection. Commissioner Roger Goodell and league representatives have defended the lineup as a reflection of the Super Bowl’s diverse and global audience. They argue that Bad Bunny’s massive streaming success and Green Day’s legendary status bring a broad appeal to the event that transcends political affiliations. The league’s stance highlights a growing trend in major sporting events where the “Big Tent” philosophy often results in choices that resonate deeply with one demographic while alienating another.
Public reaction to Trump’s boycott has been as divided as the country itself. Fans of the performers have praised the NFL for its boldness and inclusivity, seeing the President’s disapproval as a badge of honor for the artists. Conversely, conservative commentators and Trump supporters have echoed the President’s sentiments, arguing that the Super Bowl should be a unifying national event rather than a platform for artists with clear political agendas. For many, the situation is a microcosm of the broader American experience in 2026—a world where even a football game serves as a catalyst for a referendum on national identity.
Trump’s history with the Super Bowl is relatively brief but storied. His appearance at Super Bowl 59 was a landmark moment for the presidency, characterized by a warm reception in a traditionally “red” city like New Orleans. Choosing to skip the Santa Clara game suggests a strategic or personal shift, signaling that the President is no longer willing to lend his presence to an environment he deems culturally hostile. While he insists that the performers were not the only reason for his absence, the “anti-them” sentiment has undeniably colored the lead-up to the game.
As Sunday, February 8, 2026, approaches, the focus for many will remain on the field, where the Patriots and Seahawks will vie for the Vince Lombardi Trophy. The broadcast, airing on NBC and Telemundo, is expected to reach a record-breaking global audience, bolstered by the star power of the halftime show. Yet, the empty seat in the presidential box will serve as a silent reminder of the ongoing cultural tug-of-war.
Ultimately, President Trump’s decision to sit out the Super Bowl reflects the current state of the American presidency in an era of heightened media scrutiny and cultural division. By choosing his words—and his travel schedule—carefully, he has ensured that his voice is heard even if his face is not seen in the crowd. Whether this absence will impact future relations between the NFL and the White House remains to be seen, but for now, the conversation surrounding Super Bowl 60 has extended far beyond the yard lines and deep into the heart of American politics.
