Lincicome: But do Swift and Kelce know ‘When Will I Be Loved?’

Duty and opportunity require all influencers — of which I am apparently one — to have an opinion on the Swift-Kelce matter, although to be honest I would not know either of them singly or arm in arm should we share space on public transportation, and only one of us is likely to be doing that.

She — Swift — is the more celebrated of the pair, a singer I am told, the most famous woman in the world, the Princess Diana of our time, maybe Madonna, hard to judge. She is Time Magazine’s person of the year, and while I suppose Time has its reasons, I suspect she did more for Time than the other way around.

As far as is known Travis Kelce was not in the running for the Time distinction, as was the plastic toy Barbie and the grim autocrat Vladimir Putin, nor is Kelce likely to “transcend borders,” though he does have a way of getting open across the middle.

Swift sings, yes, and I have made it my task to determine how accomplished she is, leaving my tastes aside and giving her every chance.

I will say this. She’s OK but no Linda Ronstadt, my standard in all things vocal. And good for her. Apparently she has become a billionaire singing revenge tunes about failed romance or some such.

Again, I have to take the word of those who know these things and whose musical libraries are stored in AirPods while mine still clutter shelves and need dusting.

I am suspicious that she needs two names, unlike Cher or Oprah, aware that Taylor might still be confused with James or Swift with Tom, but the syllables do run together smoothly and always together, a distinction of sorts.

Now, the other half of the affair — meaning nothing by that — is a Kelce, one of two in the NFL it turns out, distinctive for footballness, the second greatest tight end to ever play in Kansas City, the greatest being Tony Gonzalez, who had 15 quarterbacks, not one of them Patrick Mahomes nor a cheering celebrity behind the stadium glass.

No matter. Kelce is a very good player but without Swift just another brute in a suit, ultimately replaceable as well as a future song lyric. Were the Chiefs not in the Super Bowl yet again, the whole thing would be parked with the odds and ends of another season and we influencers would have to work harder.

For now, however, the pairing will distinguish Super Bowl LVIII from the others, just as Richard Nixon will be associated with the “president’s play,” a post pattern pass from Bob Griese to Paul Warfield (which did not work) and Jim McMahon dropping his drawers in New Orleans, Doug Williams being asked if he had always been a black quarterback, Janet Jackson’s wardrobe malfunction, Tom Brady’s deflated footballs or, more seriously, Brady’s stolen game jersey, supposedly by a member of the press, though I have an alibi.

We have had these odd sports-show biz pairings before, of course, the most famous being Marilyn Monroe and Joe DiMaggio, Posh Spice and David Beckham — still together — Robin Givens and Mike Tyson, and so and so on.

We think of podcasters Jay Cutler and Kristin Cavallari, the several involvements of Aaron Rodgers, not to forget Brady, super model collector.

But nothing like this. This one is thoroughly silly, causing concern of a conspiracy to (1) re-elect Joe Biden, (2) fix the Super Bowl (3) make Democrats adorable, the third one being the most far-fetched.

Most ludicrous of all of this is the idea that the NFL is conspiring to fix the election for a progressive agenda. There is no more conservative an outfit in sports than the NFL, except maybe the PGA Tour, the happy spawn of the country club set.

So, granting the absurd, does it matter? I am reminded of when Linda Ronstadt was dating the governor or California, a political mix that mostly just caused curiosity and some envy, of no real use to Jerry Brown politically, who failed to win a primary in his bid for the White House.

As I said, Swift is OK but no Ronstadt. But good luck to them both, crazy kids.