Violence Punctuated by Committee Meetings

You may recognize this title phrase as George Will's famous characterization of American football, which he suggested combines these two worst elements of American culture. I'm not a big football fan myself, despite having played three years in High School. I do have a few fond memories of the game, but mostly I remember tedious practices, overbearing coaches, a lot of yelling (both by me and at me), and lopsided games played on cold rainy days on foul-smelling muddy fields, when even the coaches couldn't wait to get back on the bus.

My fondest memories? Two terrific hits I made on (different) quarterbacks in their own backfields, stunting from my strong safety position -- one of which buried my opponent face-first in the mud (with the ball embedded in the ground beneath him), and another down on the goal line which left him so stunned and disoriented that he accidentally wandered into our huddle, and needed to leave the game before the next play. Or picking a pass on an underthrown ball where I had perfect coverage, and actually had to reach back with my trailing right arm and pull the ball in from behind me, trapping it against my shoulder pad and leaving both my teammates and my opponents so astonished that I had actually CAUGHT the ball that I was able to sprint another five yards up-field before anyone actually reacted.

And then there was the time I was pressed into service as a quarterback myself, during a JV game when our regular QB twisted his knee, and lead my team down to field in a sustained drive which ended with me scoring a touchdown on a quarterback sneak.

My worst memory? Chasing down our All-League tailback from the far side of the field and catching him on the goal line during our annual end-of-two-a-days intrasquad scrimmage, and then hearing this from Coach during the film session afterwards: "Who was that? Who was that? Jensen? Jensen! Bartol, how could you let JENSEN catch you?"

I could go on and on, of course. In my opinion, professional football is no longer a game, but a nearly-religious over-coached, over-officiated celebration of corporate competition itself, not to mention a mindless televised public spectacle promoted principally by liquor companies, automobile manufacturers and the military, as well as an opportunity (and an excuse) for widespread illegal gambling, and a shameful abuse of the sabbath.

Professional football today is mostly about scouting, drafting, and breaking down film; building bigger and better "weapons" through intensive training (and chemistry), teaching "technique," creating game plans, treating injuries, managing personnel rosters, and communicating the desires of the coaches from "on high" in the pressbox down to the replaceable players on the field. The major College and even many High School programs are getting almost just as bad, and God only knows where it will end. Pee-Wee football. Arena football. The European American Football league.

And then, of course, there is the obscene amount of money. As someone who also spends his life preparing to "work" for an hour on Sunday, it's hard for me not to resent the dramatic differences in compensation, resources, and media exposure. Of course, there is very little violence in my line of work. But LOTS of committee meetings....

Anyway, once a year, for about a week here in autumn around Thanksgiving, I try to put all these feelings aside and simply enjoy the so-called "Rivalry" games. This year I followed four, beginning of course with "the Game" between Harvard and Yale (which I'm sorry to say the Crimson lost quite badly this year). But at least the Washington Huskies were able to defeat the much better Washington State Cougars in the Apple Cup last weekend, and then on Thanksgiving Day our local High School team beat its traditional rival as well, with the son of my neighbors scoring our first TD.

But the best game of the weekend was the Oregon Civil War, where the Ducks and the Beavers squared off in Corvallis in a closely-contested struggle that was competitive right up to the end, and (depending on who you were rooting for) was either won or lost on a made or missed field goal. Having attended and earned degrees from both schools I give myself permission to root both ways, and was perfectly content to see the home team win, as it has now for almost a decade. And, of course, I have plenty of Nike sportswear in both Green and Gold AND Orange and Black.

I'm not sure what the future should be for American football. There are times when I can still appreciate the grace, speed and athleticism of the modern game, almost in spite of what the game has done to itself since it was first played by Ivy League college students wearing leather helmets more than a century ago. The violence can be pornographically attractive, I'm ashamed to say...a feature emphasized in popular computer and video game adaptations. It's bread and circuses, (or perhaps more accurately, beer and stadiums) -- but it is also mostly about television, with corporate big-wigs looking down (like coaches) from perches high above the field in their own private sky boxes, and the fans in the stands basically little more than anonymous extras to provide visual background for the much larger broadcast audience at home.

Of course, a good tailgate party will always have its own intrinsic attractions. My favorites are at Husky stadium in Seattle, where folks like to tailgate on their boats anchored out in Portage Bay. Preferably on a crisp, autumn day, with a light wind, and not a cloud to be seen anywhere in the sky....