//------------------------------// // Super Bowl LIII // Story: The Trouble with Unicorns // by Admiral Biscuit //------------------------------// The Trouble With Unicorns: Super Bowl LIII Admiral Biscuit Marketing to ponies was always tricky, as Budweiser had discovered. Especially since Baron Realization—one of their former draft horses—had learned to write in Equestria, and had penned a tell-all book about the lifestyle of a Budweiser Clydesdale, which (to Anheuser-Busch's misfortune) had managed to become the first book to reach both the New York Times bestseller list and Princess Twilight Sparkle's 'must-read book of the week.' Not that that setback stopped other companies on Earth from trying, sometimes even successfully. Reebok had taken the hoof boot market by storm with their Air Secretariats, and Slap Chops were being exported to Equestria as fast as they could be manufactured. Six months before Super Bowl LIII—when major corporations were planning out their ad campaign—Ford Motor Company accidentally green-lit the most memorable Super Bowl giveaway. They had initially intended to highlight the upcoming 2020 Ford Mustang's 500 horsepower with an ad featuring 500 actual horses. Draper Price had already done the first set of storyboards when an intern suggested that they could also give away 500 Super Bowl seats to lucky ponies. While ponies couldn't operate automobiles, for some reason they loved collecting die-cast cars, so at Draper Price's suggestion, Ford bought a giant block of nosebleed seats at the Mercedes Benz Stadium in Atlanta, slipped five hundred golden tickets into specially-marked packages of Matchbox Mustangs, and thereafter gave little thought to the promotion. The shipment of Mustangs wound up in Canterlot, diverted by a greedy Prince who had diplomatic immunity and was never actually identified by name. Since he believed that the cars were only valuable when left in their original packaging, he never discovered the winning ticket in the Matchbox Mustang that he added to his collection. From there, the remaining Matchbox cars went to a Canterlot merchant, and by the eve of the 2020 Super Bowl, there were four hundred ninety nine unicorns in attendance forking over bits to get Colts and Broncos memorabilia. Everything looked like it was going to be a great success. Several unicorns were interviewed by roving TV crews before the game, and of course the cameras often lingered on the cluster of ponies all gathered to watch the pinnacle of American pastimes. The NFL commissioner and team owners were eagerly rubbing their hands together at the thought of penetrating another market, and perhaps showing a bit of a gain after several seasons of steadily declining revenue. All was right with the world. 🏈🏈🏈 The unicorns dutifully stood for the national anthem, and those who hadn't spiked their horns through their baseball caps respectfully removed them. They stomped in appreciation as the Blue Angels did a fly-by, and then it was gametime. Denver kicked off for forty-six yards, and stopped the return after only eight yards, after which the game began in earnest. No longer were ponies the target of idle camera panning; there was a football game to watch. Over the next nine minutes, the Colts slowly marched downfield, finally ending their offensive on the Broncos’ four yard line. A touchdown seemed assured, but the Broncos mustered their defense and managed to push the Colts back to the fourteen yard line. On the fourth down, the Colts risked a running play and failed, ultimately turning the ball over deep into Broncos territory. It was also at that point that things began going south for the Super Bowl, although nobody knew it yet. Some of the unicorns were Colts fans and some of them were Broncos fans, although to be fair, most of them fell into the middle. The vast majority of the crowd had no idea who either team was, and had just taken the opportunity presented to them to come watch a free game. Indeed, there were even a few unicorns in the crowd who sported licensed merchandise from both teams and didn't really appreciate the oddity of that. Regardless, the first drive had been nothing but hoof-biting action, and nopony had wanted to leave their seats. A short possession by the Broncos culminated in them kicking the ball away, and a slow trickle of ponies started making their way to the various refreshment stands located throughout the stadium. It's worth noting that the ponies had no enmity towards Budweiser. Indeed, they'd collectively forgotten about the disastrous marketing campaign—but Baron Realization was a familiar face to them. He'd just wrapped up a second promotional tour for his exposé. It hardly took any time for the ponies to notice that he was also (inadvertently) advertising beer, which they bought. In large quantities. The Colts ended the first quarter by losing thirteen yards on a sack. Unnoticed by the watchful cameras or the audience, the unicorns had begun shifting. Colts fans shifted left, and Broncos fans shifted right, leaving the cluster of nonpartisan ponies in the center. 🏈🏈🏈 The second quarter got off to a good start for the Colts fans; they made up for their earlier yardage loss with a quick run to the goal line, followed by a successful extra point attempt. The kick downfield was deep into Broncos territory, setting a new personal best for Vinatieri. The Broncos advanced and were eventually brought to a halt a dozen yards short of a touchdown. Rather than attempt a risky running play, they opted for a 31 yard field goal attempt, putting them on the board with a little over four minutes remaining in the second quarter. This was met with both cheers and boos from the unicorns—depending on which team they favored—along with some spirited discussions of how football worked and why this goal was good for three points when the last time the ball had been kicked through the uprights it had only counted for one. The Colts fans promptly started accusing the refs of bias, although luckily there was a large contingent of neutral unicorns between the two sides to help calm things down. To the shock of everybody (and everypony), the Colts only needed two more plays to score another touchdown and extra point, and at halftime the score stood 3-14. Arguments amongst the unicorns changed tack during the halftime show. Many of them got up to use the restrooms or get more beer (or both). There was also a spirited discussion about the halftime show and whether Nickelback's music was up to par with the requirements of the genre or not, or for that matter if it could even be considered music. To be fair, there were a few ponies who liked it, but they kept their opinions to themselves lest they be mocked by everypony else. Bright Bridle had managed to get her hooves on a copy of Football for Dummies, and despite the condescending title, had become the center of a cluster of ponies who were genuinely curious about how the game actually worked. When halftime was finally over, the ponies had reshuffled themselves again, and completely split into factions. 🏈🏈🏈 Down on the field, the players didn't particularly notice anything was amiss through the first part of the third quarter. Sometimes the ball seemed to bounce a little bit strangely on the turf, and wide receivers alternated between lucky catches and heartbreaking misses. Once, for no apparent reason, Luck simply dropped the ball on the hike. He said in the huddle that it felt like it was covered in oil, and he simply couldn't grip it. One turnover later, CJ Anderson was forced out of bounds and the play was called, but then reversed on review; he had managed to Matrix his way past two defenders while staying in bounds for longer than should have been humanly possible. He told his teammates that it felt like a dream where he was falling but in slow motion and he couldn't explain how he'd stayed upright for as long as he had. The ball was spotted five yards further downfield, and the game continued. Everybody breathed a sigh of relief as the third quarter finally drew to a close. The Broncos had managed to score another field goal, leaving them with only an eight point deficit. On television, the short break passed quickly in a series of commercials and highlights, and there was only a brief montage of crowd shots—if one had watched very carefully, they might have noticed that there were more than a few unicorns with lit horns, despite there being no obvious target for their magic. 🏈🏈🏈 The fourth quarter got off to a good start, but things went downhill fast. It was still either team's game, a fact that was not lost on the unicorns. There were fifteen long minutes for the Colts to enlarge their lead, or for the Broncos to pass them and emerge victorious. In Equestria, it was understood that using magic to influence sporting events was unsporting, and some of the more august venues actually had spells in place to block any magical effects. At lesser games, there were often spell-spotters, and the rulebooks had been written with the thought of magical interference in mind. Penalties could be enforced, and often were. There were of course no such rules in football, nor were there any humans well-equipped to recognize minor spellwork that affected the outcome of a play. And if it had stayed that way, the odds-makers in Vegas might have fallen upon their calculators, several players might have been mystified at how well they'd played (but just chalked it up to excitement for being at the Super Bowl), and a few new—and probably ultimately unbeatable—records would have been set. But it was the fourth quarter, the game was on the line, there were two small, opposing clusters of fanatically loyal unicorns, and the ponies had drunk a lot of beer. To somepony only passingly familiar with the game, it was make or break time for the Broncos. It was evident to the pony audience that football games were low-scoring, and that barring a miracle, drives took a long time. It was also obvious to anypony who could do basic addition that six was less than fourteen, and if the Broncos were to have a chance to win, they would have to score a touchdown on this possession, and get the ball back before the Colts could score again. The Broncos were on their third down, and had eight yards to go. A passing play was the only logical choice as the players formed up at the line of scrimmage. Even caught up in the heat of the moment, most ponies instinctively knew that it wasn't right to use magic directly on a player. The ball, however, was a different matter. The moment the football left Osweiler's hands it got hit by five different spells and wobbled in the air as a brief struggle of thaumic strength played out. An instant later, it rocketed away, curved slightly to the left in an attempt to intercept Latimer before a stronger unicorn realized that Thomas was further downfield. It hovered for a moment, then zoomed off on a new course, bouncing up and down as a Colts supporter attempted to make it fall short. A half second later, the ball suddenly picked up speed and altitude—the Colts supporter had realized that she wasn't strong enough to stop the ball, so had instead added to its velocity, in an attempt to make it fly beyond the intended receiver. Thomas jumped for the ball, which popped up and then was smashed back down into his hands with the force of a cannonball. He managed to keep his grip on it, and slammed into the ground hard enough to leave a small crater in the field. If there had been any doubt of shenanigans, the color commentators left that to rest with their stunned silence. One could almost hear John Madden's voice echoing through the stadium. In all my years of covering professional football, I've never seen anything like that. Even more damning, upon replay, a glowing corona was clearly visible around the football. As usual, the refs were the last to fully understand what was going on. The play was called as good, then reversed, then reversed again. A penalty flag was thrown, picked up, and then the refs huddled together and ultimately decided to pretend that that last play had never happened. The ball was moved back to its starting position and the down was repeated. This was unfortunate. Base human nature is to think if he cheated, why shouldn't I? and the same moral flaw applied to ponies. Of the five hundred unicorns watching the game, none of the fanatics were so oblivious as to miss what had just happened, and so on the next attempt at a play, they all redoubled their efforts, despite attempts from the neutral unicorns to dissuade them. It turned out that a football is not designed to be the target of several dozen simultaneous spells, and it ultimately exploded midair, after charting an aerial course that could best be described as drunken staggering. Things were no better on the gridiron; players stumbled over invisible obstacles and bounced off each other in a physics-be-damned manner. After all, if you're going to cheat, cheat big. In the entire ninety-nine year history of the NFL, this particular situation had never before arisen, and the refs called an official time out to discuss it. To pass the time, NBC aired expensive ads. When it became apparent that this was going to be a long delay, Nickelback offered to perform an encore, and was politely told ‘thanks but no thanks.’ Eventually, the game resumed, although when it did, there was a cluster of five hundred seats that was conspicuously empty. During the extended official time out, the unicorns sitting there had been escorted out of the stadium. 🏈🏈🏈 Stadiums are big, and ponies are small.  It was inevitable, really, that in the chaos one of the unicorns would be overlooked. Beer and TexMex-A-Que nachos don’t mix well.  Cipher Splash had missed some of the excitement, along with the pony eviction, and she was eager to see the end of the game.  Although she really wanted to go back and sit with her unicorn friends, she also didn’t want to miss another moment of the game. She adjusted her Broncos jersey and trotted out to the main aisle. 🏈🏈🏈 The Broncos won with a Hail Mary pass as the clock ran out.