GUEST COLUMN: Football elicits strange reactions

Daniel Fienberg Daniel FienbergAcross New England, the new year did not truly begin until the third of January. Sure, from Connecticut to Maine, people drank champagne and tried to avoid watching Dick Clark, but 1997 could not officially end until televisions went off in the mid-afternoon as Drew Bledsoe fumbled, giving the Pittsburgh Steelers a 7-6 win over the Patriots. From there it was time to move on. Of course, we could all watch the sport for what it is: Overgrown men, probably on performance enhancing drugs, pushing similarly gargantuan men up and down a muddy field all the while chasing what would have been a pig if its innards had not long ago filled a bacon and cheese omelet. These men wear silly uniforms and big hats which soften the blows only as much as they add to the aural pleasure of the event -- the crashing of plastic and padding forming a marvelous cacophony surrounded by the roar of an enthusiastic (and overpaying) crowd, 50,000 strong. But what would be the fun in that? Football brings out something in even the casual fan that no other sport possibly could. Watching a ground ball to third can be entertaining for a baseball fan, but it doesn't provide the adrenaline rush that every couch potato gets from watching fat people slam into each other. Probably if sumo wrestling got coverage on ESPN2, Americans would embrace it. But until then, our vicarious thrills have to come from elsewhere. So we yell at the screen. Not that it's actually the screen that we're yelling at. How limited is that? No, your true football fan yells at the screen because the people inside the television can actually hear what we're saying. And because the people sitting around us want to hear what we would do if our dreams of NFL glory had stretched past our own backyards. Fans yell at the screen because the sport makes them want to make a difference. Admittedly, many fans probably also yell at the television later in the week when E.R. is on ("Why don't you give him a EKG, stat, you bonehead?!") or during Melrose ("Why don't you hit him already, you %*&$ moron?!"). But the results are just not as satisfying. Once the fan is bothering to yell at the screen, he probably figures that he knows more about the sport than anyone, and the multitude of games during the holidays no doubt let him "share" that knowledge. Think back. Surely you've witnessed a mocking holier-than-thou conversation that went something like this: Football Fan: Great blitz! Curious Non-Fan: What's a blitz? Football Fan: Well, it's like a crepe with cheese inside. You eat 'em with sour cream. (boorish laughter) Not-So-Curious Non-Fan: I think I'd rather go do something else. Or this: Curious Non-Fan: Why's the ref doing the congo? Football Fan: He's not. It was an illegal procedure penalty. Curious Non-Fan (exiting the room): It would be more fun if he was doing the congo. Look at him. What beautiful athleticism. He's in complete control of his body. That's how my mother figured she should be watching the game. Sometimes, as players leap through the air to make catches, or break into the open field for long runs, she's right. Of course as the 300- pound lineman stumbles back to the huddle, gut hanging to the frozen tundra, you could have doubts. Football also offers the opportunity to decry our national system of higher education. The majority of the most talented pros dropped out of school after one year or two. Watching the players at college powers, all of whom are "Criminology" majors or "Parks and Recreation" majors can also make you wonder what they are really getting out of their university experiences. One school which played in a New Year's Day bowl had the distinct honor of graduating 6 percent of its African-American athletes. It's a bit like watching Kathy Lee Gifford. Whatever amusement you might get becomes bitter when you view her as an exploiter. College football, more-so than any other sport, makes the viewer feel the guilt. Football, though, also shows the cracks in our voyeurism. The bloodlust that has us yelling at the player, telling them to hit harder and play dirtier, turns back on us when the crowd goes silent as a player lies motionless of the fake plastic grass. Last month, it was shocking to watch the players huddle around Detroit Lion player, Reggie Brown. One second after they had been taunting, trash talking and trying to kill each other, they stood in silence. Many cried. Many more gathered in groups -- often containing players and coaches from both teams -- and they prayed. It isn't certain whether or not Brown will ever walk again. Moments like that 20-minute delay in the crucial Lions-Jets showdown help us, the fans, to realize the nature of the game and about the people who play it and watch it -- one step from the edge.