Episodes
Monday Sep 16, 2013
In Defense of the Sissification of the NFL
Monday Sep 16, 2013
Monday Sep 16, 2013
October 17, 2010 wasn’t D-Day in the NFL, rather it was C-Day—as in concussion—where a rash of NFL players were violently knocked out of games from the type of defensive highlights usually glorified on post-game shows. NFL Commissioner, Roger Goodell, was forced into action, because like the announcer in Rocky IV said, “They better stop this fight before somebody gets killed.”
Since then, the NFL has fined players, changed rules, and opened a dialogue about head injuries that extends all the way down to pee-wee football. They were also taken to court by battered ex-NFLers and settled on paying them $765 million.
So what’s the problem?
(above: Believe it or not, pro football will survive, even without plays like this.)
Some players—the ones not suffering from chronic headaches—complain that the game of football is being sissified. Certain sports-talk personalities will try to convince you that football will be irrelevant in a few years if you take away the violent collisions that make the sport so savagely sexy.
Over the past few years many media-types insist that the American public only watches the NFL because of its violence. If you take the big hit out of football, football is no longer football, right?
Wrong.
We watch the NFL because it’s a fascinating game, and like all games—whether it’s football or hide-and-go-seek—we’re most interested in one result: winning. If your favorite team goes undefeated in the regular season, and does so without producing a violent defensive highlight that can be looped on internet GIF files, does that make the season any less spectacular?
Think of all the great plays in NFL history. Has any important game ever been decided by a clothesline, pile-driver, or two guys playing demolition derby with their brains? The most revered moments in NFL history—“The Catch,” “The Immaculate Reception,” “The Drive,” and “The Music City Miracle”—were all about scoring points, not knockouts.
History remembers Hall-of-Famer Lynn Swann’s graceful catches, not getting clubbed in the head caveman-style by Oakland Raider George Atkinson. Legendary hard-hitter, Dick Butkus, has an awesome-looking NFL Films reel, but no championship rings to show for it. Football’s current-day version of a rabid pitbull, James Harrison—who threatened to retire after Goodell made helmet-to-helmet hits illegal—will be remembered most for one of the greatest defensive plays in Super Bowl history (XLIII). Ironically, it didn’t involve Harrison creating a violent collision, yet escaping a series of them, after he intercepted a pass and ran 100 yards downfield for a touchdown, just as the final seconds of the first half ticked away.
Speaking of Super Bowls, the most famous tackle in its history—appropriately called “The Tackle” (SB XXXIV)—involved defender Mike Jones grabbing wideout Kevin Dyson’s tippy toes right before he reached the ball over the goal line. The play wasn’t violent (although that’s what we all crave, right?), but boy, was it EXCITING! And that’s why we watch; that’s why I’ll tune into a locally televised high school football game if it’s a close contest come the fourth quarter.
If some pundits think NFL viewers are nothing more than blood-thirsty savages, take 2009’s AFC Championship game as an example: My favorite team, the Pittsburgh Steelers were leading the Baltimore Ravens in the final minutes of the 4th quarter. Ravens’ running back Willis McGahee caught a pass across the middle and was made to look like a corpse after Steelers’ safety Ryan Clark charged him like a male ram in mating season and smashed into him like a cannonball.
McGahee fumbled the ball and the Steelers gained possession, clinching a trip to the Super Bowl. Instead of gleefully celebrating, I winced at McGahee and thought to myself, “He’s dead.” (As it turns out, McGahee did not die; he suffered a concussion and was rolled off the field on a stretcher.) The Super Bowl didn’t seem so important anymore. Can you believe it? Human life actually took precedence over my Pittsburgh Steelers.
I know I’m not alone. Even players who may enjoy delivering a big hit, show their humanity when someone gets hurt. Who can forget Lawrence Taylor’s frantic reaction after he snapped Joe Theisman’s leg like a bread stick? If we were truly masochists disguised as football fans, why do we applaud louder and longer for a guy giving a thumbs-up gesture on a stretcher, than the hit that actually put him there?
In the years to come, the NFL will continue to make rules that protect its players. Maybe it’s because they don’t want to pay out any more settlements to ex-players? Or maybe it’s because it’s no fun watching the New England Patriots’ back-up quarterback? Whatever the case, there’s nothing more exciting than watching the world’s best athletes compete against each other in a sport that has a lot more to offer than someone suffering a highlight-worthy case of whiplash.
Football is dangerous indeed, but as long as games are exciting enough for a final heave—named after a prayer to the Blessed Mother, mind you—people will watch. Pro football will survive, sissified or not. Amen.
Some players—the ones not suffering from chronic headaches—complain that the game of football is being sissified. Certain sports-talk personalities will try to convince you that football will be irrelevant in a few years if you take away the violent collisions that make the sport so savagely sexy.
Over the past few years many media-types insist that the American public only watches the NFL because of its violence. If you take the big hit out of football, football is no longer football, right?
Wrong.
We watch the NFL because it’s a fascinating game, and like all games—whether it’s football or hide-and-go-seek—we’re most interested in one result: winning. If your favorite team goes undefeated in the regular season, and does so without producing a violent defensive highlight that can be looped on internet GIF files, does that make the season any less spectacular?
Think of all the great plays in NFL history. Has any important game ever been decided by a clothesline, pile-driver, or two guys playing demolition derby with their brains? The most revered moments in NFL history—“The Catch,” “The Immaculate Reception,” “The Drive,” and “The Music City Miracle”—were all about scoring points, not knockouts.
History remembers Hall-of-Famer Lynn Swann’s graceful catches, not getting clubbed in the head caveman-style by Oakland Raider George Atkinson. Legendary hard-hitter, Dick Butkus, has an awesome-looking NFL Films reel, but no championship rings to show for it. Football’s current-day version of a rabid pitbull, James Harrison—who threatened to retire after Goodell made helmet-to-helmet hits illegal—will be remembered most for one of the greatest defensive plays in Super Bowl history (XLIII). Ironically, it didn’t involve Harrison creating a violent collision, yet escaping a series of them, after he intercepted a pass and ran 100 yards downfield for a touchdown, just as the final seconds of the first half ticked away.
Speaking of Super Bowls, the most famous tackle in its history—appropriately called “The Tackle” (SB XXXIV)—involved defender Mike Jones grabbing wideout Kevin Dyson’s tippy toes right before he reached the ball over the goal line. The play wasn’t violent (although that’s what we all crave, right?), but boy, was it EXCITING! And that’s why we watch; that’s why I’ll tune into a locally televised high school football game if it’s a close contest come the fourth quarter.
If some pundits think NFL viewers are nothing more than blood-thirsty savages, take 2009’s AFC Championship game as an example: My favorite team, the Pittsburgh Steelers were leading the Baltimore Ravens in the final minutes of the 4th quarter. Ravens’ running back Willis McGahee caught a pass across the middle and was made to look like a corpse after Steelers’ safety Ryan Clark charged him like a male ram in mating season and smashed into him like a cannonball.
McGahee fumbled the ball and the Steelers gained possession, clinching a trip to the Super Bowl. Instead of gleefully celebrating, I winced at McGahee and thought to myself, “He’s dead.” (As it turns out, McGahee did not die; he suffered a concussion and was rolled off the field on a stretcher.) The Super Bowl didn’t seem so important anymore. Can you believe it? Human life actually took precedence over my Pittsburgh Steelers.
I know I’m not alone. Even players who may enjoy delivering a big hit, show their humanity when someone gets hurt. Who can forget Lawrence Taylor’s frantic reaction after he snapped Joe Theisman’s leg like a bread stick? If we were truly masochists disguised as football fans, why do we applaud louder and longer for a guy giving a thumbs-up gesture on a stretcher, than the hit that actually put him there?
In the years to come, the NFL will continue to make rules that protect its players. Maybe it’s because they don’t want to pay out any more settlements to ex-players? Or maybe it’s because it’s no fun watching the New England Patriots’ back-up quarterback? Whatever the case, there’s nothing more exciting than watching the world’s best athletes compete against each other in a sport that has a lot more to offer than someone suffering a highlight-worthy case of whiplash.
Football is dangerous indeed, but as long as games are exciting enough for a final heave—named after a prayer to the Blessed Mother, mind you—people will watch. Pro football will survive, sissified or not. Amen.
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