My friends thought I was messing with them. “I still don’t see how this is possible,” Rustin Dodd said. “Haven’t you watched a lot of TV sports in recent months?”
I have, and yet the truth remains: Until Sunday afternoon, I didn’t know about Dilly Dilly.
“Wow,” said The Big Lead editor Jason Lisk.
“Have you asked others about this?” my friend Mike Vernon wondered.
I had, actually. Earlier that day I was watching the Patriots-Jaguars game at my buddy Jacob’s place, and I asked him if he knew what Dilly Dilly was. “I have no clue,” he said.
So I know I’m not the only one, but Jacob has an infant in his care, and I am a professional sports blogger. I should know Dilly Dilly.
Here’s the thing, though: I’m also a Twitter addict, and this is a big problem for Dilly Dilly, Bud Light and the whole television business. Because what being a Twitter addict means is, once that TV goes to commercial, you’re right back in that smartphone getting off these tweets, popping over to Reddit, taking a swing by Facebook messenger on the way to the can. They could have Kate Upton naked on top of a Silverado and I wouldn’t see it until somebody uploaded it to Twitter (I know just who would do it, too).
I’m not saying I was completely unaware of Dilly Dilly. I’m pretty sure I had seen the ad, but this whole time I was thinking Dilly Dilly was going to turn out to be some viral catchphrase like “damn, Daniel” or something.
One might argue that this is a sign of success for the NFL and its sponsors, that even an aloof dolt like me was eventually consumed by the relentless pounding of an advertising campaign’s catchphrase. That, try as I might, Bud Light is the mistress that will not be ignored.
Or one might argue that the possibility of someone like me missing an ad campaign like this for so long is one of a thousand anecdotes predicting television’s demise, as our collective eyeballs turn to other glowing screens.