“Faith, Family, and Football — That’s My Kind of Sunday!”

Carrie Underwood Praises Turning Point USA’s All American Halftime Show — Calls It the Greatest Celebration of Faith and Freedom Ever Seen

On a crisp October evening, Carrie Underwood sat in her Nashville home, scrolling through her phone.
A headline caught her eye: “Charlie Kirk’s Turning Point USA Announces ‘All American Halftime Show’ as Rival to Bad Bunny.”

She paused. Her heart stirred.
Faith, family, freedom — those three words rang in her mind.
She thought of the Sunday mornings she grew up with — church, home, community — and how deeply those roots shaped her identity.

At that moment, she whispered to herself: “This is the kind of Sunday I believe in.”

Hours later, she would issue a public statement:

“Finally, a halftime show that highlights classic American values and unity! This is going to be the most authentic, all-American show we’ve seen in years.”

Her words would send ripples across social media, country music circles, and cultural conversations.

The announcement by Turning Point USA (a conservative nonprofit founded by Charlie Kirk) declared that on February 8, 2026, in parallel with the official Super Bowl LX halftime show, there would be an alternative event dubbed The All American Halftime Show.

According to their messaging, the show would celebrate “Faith, Family, & Freedom”. They invited fans to vote on musical genres — “Americana,” “Pop,” “Worship,” and even “Anything in English.”

It was clear: the project was conceived not simply as a concert, but as a symbolic response to the NFL’s selection of Bad Bunny — an artist who predominantly performs in Spanish and embraces a multicultural, global identity. Critics from conservative circles had already voiced objections, calling the NFL’s decision a break with “mainstream American culture.”

Thus, for many observers, the All American Halftime Show was more than entertainment — it was a statement, a cultural rebuttal, a reclaiming of symbolism.

Carrie’s Endorsement: Conviction or Calculated Move?

When Carrie Underwood’s name began surfacing in discussions about who might headline or endorse the TPUSA event — given her reputation as a faithful country icon — fans and critics alike held their breath.

Her public praise of the show was swift and strong. She wrote in posts and interviews:

“I love seeing people come together for something that celebrates who we are and what we stand for. That’s the kind of energy America needs right now.”

She described the show as “the greatest show ever” — high praise, laden with emotion and expectation.

For Carrie, this wasn’t just about music. It echoed her lifelong persona: the singer who wears her faith on her sleeve, who has often been a bridge between country audiences and broader pop or faith-based platforms.

A Flashback: When Faith and Stage Met

To understand why Carrie’s words carried weight — and why some felt pulse quicken — one must look at moments when her artistry and values collided on big stages.

Take January 2025, when she sang “America the Beautiful” at President Trump’s second inauguration. A technical glitch left her without musical accompaniment, forcing her to carry the song a cappella. She prompted the crowd: “You know the words — help me out here,” and thousands joined in.

That moment, unplanned and raw, showed her willingness to lean into vulnerability and connection. It offended some, inspired others, but it underscored that Carrie sees her platform as part of her calling — not just entertainment.

Similarly, fans have long speculated whether she would one day headline a Super Bowl halftime show — an event she’s had proximity to, having performed the national anthem in 2010 and having her music appear in NFL contexts.

So when her voice entered the TPUSA discussion, many felt she had both credibility and emotional resonance among the Conservative/faith-oriented base.

Nashville, mid-November evening

A small conference room in a recording studio. Carrie sits across from her manager, Sarah, and a TPUSA liaison, Mark.

Mark (leaning forward):
“Carrie, we want your heart in this. Not a token performance, but a voice. We believe your fans — and beyond — will respond.”

Carrie (quiet but firm):
“I won’t compromise my message. If I step in, it has to be authentic. No scripts that water down faith. No demands to play a role in someone else’s agenda.”

Sarah (gently):
“We know who you are. Just make sure they know it too.”

Later, Carrie would text a close friend: “This feels like the crossroads — faith + freedom. If I stay silent, I’m losing something deeper than an audience.”

This sense of internal conflict and conviction — real or dramatized — helps explain why some saw her endorsement as brave and others as provocative.

When national media picked up the story, reactions poured in.

Supporters lauded Carrie’s courage:

“She finally said what many are thinking.”

“That stage needs someone of her caliber and character.”

“Faith, family, football — that’s America.”

Critics pushed back:

“This is polarizing, not unifying.”

“To equate English-only with true patriotism is dismissive to millions.”

“A performance staged by a politically driven org lacks genuine inclusivity.”

Meanwhile, commentators questioned the practicality: would major artists agree to affiliate with what is perceived as a politically charged event? TPUSA may struggle to assemble a star lineup that satisfies both musical and ideological expectations.

The genre poll itself (with a choice labeled “Anything in English”) became a flashpoint, interpreted by many as a direct slight toward Spanish-language artists — and thus toward large segments of the American population.

What does it mean to love your country?

For Carrie and her supporters, patriotism is reverence. National symbols — the flag, the anthem, the Fourth of July — carry sacred weight. To stand, sing, honor — these are modes of gratitude, not coercion.

For others, patriotism includes protest, dissent, and complex identity. To sit might not equal disrespect; it might represent critique, pain, or alternative allegiance.

Bad Bunny’s presence at the Super Bowl — his language, his background, his cultural identity — embodies a multicultural America that challenges traditional gatekeepers. Thus, his detractors see in him an “outsider” disrupting the narrative they wish to preserve.

Carrie’s embrace of the alternative show is perceived by some as pushing back — loudly — against that disruption.

At a recent acoustic show in Tennessee, Carrie paused mid-set.

She addressed the crowd in an unusually tender tone:

“You know, when I sing about home, about Jesus, about this land — it’s real for me. And I believe there’s room in this world for people to worship differently, to love differently, to speak differently. But there’s also room to remember where we come from.”

As she strummed the opening chords of “See You Again,” cheers rose into a gentle roar.

Perhaps that night captured a deeper truth: in a fracturing culture, artists like Carrie exist between worlds — not on one side or the other, but bridging them, with a foot in heartland roots and a view outward.

As Super Bowl day approaches, both shows will vie for eyes, hearts, and narrative. The official halftime — with Bad Bunny — is already surrounded by buzz, criticism, and expectation. The TPUSA show, still tentative on performers, promises a counter-narrative steeped in red, white, and blue.

If Carrie joins, it will be headline-making — a seismic endorsement. If she stays back, her voice will still echo in every ad, every press release, every fan’s retweet.

Regardless of outcomes, the event has already succeeded in forcing conversation. What is America today? Who gets to be on its biggest stages? And can symbols unite or do they divide?

For Carrie Underwood, the answer is in her posture — not perfection, not pandering — but passionate alignment with what she sees as timeless values. Faith, Family, Football.

Whether you agree or not, her voice has become part of the dialogue, part of the crossroads.

And in that moment, she’s doing what she’s always done: singing for listeners who want something to believe in, offering hope, saying what she feels, even when it’s loud.