A whole generation of Americans has by now grown up believing it to be a Super Bowl tradition as old as the F14 flyover: the moment the final gun sounds to end the game, an interviewer catches up with the game's Most Valuable Player as he is being borne off the field on the shoulders of his team-mates and breathlessly asks: "Hey, Joe Blow! You've just won the Super Bowl! What are you going to do next?"
To which Joe Blow, who has been handsomely compensated by prior arrangement, gleefully replies: "I'm going to Disney World!"
A day later this exchange will have been packaged, along with footage of Joe Blow and his family happily cavorting with Mickey and Goofy, in a commercial spot presumably designed to help those American families still undecided in their plans for February's school holidays to make up their minds.
Contrary to popular supposition, the arrangement with the Disney people does not predate the invention of the face-mask. It was, in fact, conceived just 15 years ago. Phil Simms, the New York Giants' quarterback, was the first to utter the phrase, with has been repeated by every Super Bowl MVP since.
Joe Montana and Jerry Rice. Troy Aikman and Emmitt Smith, they've all done it. Last year it was the Rams' Kurt Warner (Cinderella himself?). But as Super Bowl XXXV drew nigh, the Disney people realised that they had a potential nightmare on their hands: what if the Baltimore Ravens won and Ray Lewis was the MVP?
It would hardly do, after all, to pay a man who less than a year earlier stood accused of two murders to stand up and shout "I'm going to Disney World!" And if he did show up at the Magic Kingdom, which family would Lewis bring to the parade? The three children he has by one woman (not his wife) in Florida, or the one child by the other woman (not his wife) in Maryland?
If he was wavering before Super Bowl week, Disney CEO Michael Eisner quickly made up his mind once the Ravens got to Tampa. Grilled by a battalion of reporters and television types, an unrepentant, arrogant, and defiant Lewis wasted little time in embracing the villain's role. Asked if he had spoken to the families of the two men slain in an Atlanta nightclub last year, Lewis replied "Nah. Why should I?"
Although the murder charges had been dropped in a plea-bargaining arrangement (Lewis pleaded guilty to obstruction of justice and testified against two co-defendants), the NFL had fined Lewis a record $250,000.
Getting paid to go on Mister Toad's Wild Ride might have been the perfect way to end his bizarre year, but in the days before the game Disney quietly backed off its usual arrangement and declined to contract themselves to using the Super Bowl MVP in the traditional promotion.
The Ravens, of course, won, defeating the New York Giants in a sloppy game that may have been the worst-played Super Bowl in the history of the event. For the first time, fans were allowed to participate in the MVP voting via an Internet poll, but their vote would count just 20 per cent of the total. The remaining 80 per cent of the electorate remained in the hands of a 15-man (or actually, 14 men and one woman) media panel.
Lewis, of course, won the award, even though it was by no means clear that he was even the Most Valuable Lewis in Super Bowl XXXV. Ravens' running back Jamal Lewis ran for over 100 yards and a touchdown. Baltimore return specialist Jermaine Lewis raced 84 yards to score on a third-period kick-off return, and accumulated 145 yards in returns on the evening.
Ray Lewis had what was for him a comparatively pedestrian game, but he was unquestionably the heart and soul of a defence as dominating as any ever to appear in the biggest game of the year. He might not have been a landslide choice, but put it this way: it wasn't the most outrageous vote to take place in Florida this winter. If the Disney people showed great judgment, their counterparts from Ford weren't so fortunate - or so prescient. Having committed to presenting one of their cars to the Most Valuable Player, the company suffered a dual indignity, inasmuch as reporters with long memories could point out that Lewis departed the last two Super Bowls in Ford products. A Lincoln Navigator limousine served as the getaway car for Lewis and his posse following last year's Buckhead murders, and this year he got the keys to a new silver Ford Explorer.
Disney, in the meantime, had quietly made their arrangements backstage, and when the game was over they had a crew ready to film Baltimore quarterback Trent Dilfer shouting "I'm going to Disney World!"
He might not have won the MVP election, but Dilfer was hardly undeserving of the commercial spot. His was a wonderful rags-toriches story in any case. A year earlier (while Ray Lewis was in jail, as a matter of fact), he had been released by his career-long team, the Tampa Bay Buccaneers. (His departure was enthusiastically supported by the more rabid Bucs' fans, some of who used to regularly boo Dilfer's wife when she ventured out in public.)
Signed by the Ravens, he had spent the first half of the season in a back-up role, and got the quarterback's job in late October largely by default after starter Tony Banks sputtered. After losing to Pittsburgh 9-6 in his first outing, Dilfer led the Ravens to 11 straight wins, including last Sunday night's.
So there they were in Orlando on Monday: the more wholesome Dilfer, along with his wife and three children, riding down Main Street in a ticker-tape parade.
When the issue of his non-invitation was brought up after the game, Ray Lewis had but one cryptic comment:
"I ain't goin' to no Disney," he muttered.
