For me, in some ways, football is the closest thing I have
to religion. Every Sunday, I would pledge my allegiance to ESPN for two hours
of pregame, and then devote myself to Fox, CBS, and NBC for nine or ten hours.
It was more than a game or entertainment, it was a ritual.
And when fantasy football became popular, I remember
creating my yahoo account so that I could sign-up for a random league. It only
grew from there. A fun hour of drafting evolved into weeks of pouring over stats
and trends, trying to find a way to outsmart my friends and co-workers.
But I have to be honest, I don’t feel the way that I used to
about the game. I know I have to quit football.
As a New England Patriots fan, their recent, Super Bowl win was a
roller coaster. As a fan, I can name their entire starting lineup, relevant
stats, college highlights for their players, and explain how Tom Brady was
basically screwed over at Michigan. The Super Bowl was the culmination of years
of fandom, of disappointments, triumphs, failures, and successes.
And yet, the game left me feeling unsatisfied. But I’m
jumping ahead. My feelings of discontent have accumulated over the last four
years. As the information on head injuries has become more transparent, the
harm that these men are inflicting on themselves has reached dangerous levels.
As the NFL has failed to implement sufficient, safety strategies, and in some
cases, even acted to suppress the evidence associated with the catastrophic
toll these players are putting on their bodies, I’ve grown more and more
disgusted with the league’s actions.
Even more frightening is the mentality that so many players
display, as they hungrily accept any opportunity to play one more down. “Play
for your teammates, your family…” I hear that, again and again from players. I
shake my head as I read about the number of former football players suffering
from serious brain injuries, some even committing suicide. For men who played
for “their families,” I can’t imagine the pain that their actual family must
feel. The NFL, however, continues to make money. Record-setting attendance,
viewership, and participation are a constant. Not bad for a non-profit (PETA,
take notice…).
I don’t specifically blame the players, as it’s hammered
into them from a young age. You sacrifice, you work, you put the team before
everything else. Of course they feel a sense of loyalty to that contrived idea.
For a lot of young athletes, it becomes an integral part of their life, an
opportunity to be a part of something bigger. The issue arises when those same
athletes then sacrifice their futures for 60 minutes of glory. The excuse is that there is honor
in being part of something bigger than oneself. When there is profit, however, in
an industry that suppresses the likely harm to its employees, there is a danger because the NFL is using disillusionment to line the pockets of its owners, regardless of the personnel cost.
My dissatisfaction reached new levels, however, with the
handling of the league’s big players, Ray Rice and Adrian Peterson. I
personally don’t have a problem with the league reacting one way or the other
on the charges levied against the players (that’s what courts are for). But the
NFL’s waffling, their inability to form a semi-coherent response to the actions
of both reminded me of my preschool class requesting an extra recess from our
teacher. We kept asking, changing our reasons for being outside again, hoping
that what we said would eventually be what our teacher wanted to hear.
For those of you unfamiliar with it, Ray Rice, a Pro Bowl-level
running back who used to be on the Baltimore Ravens, knocked out his
then-fiancee (now wife) in a casino elevator. The NFL originally suspended him
for two games. TMZ obtained the Ray Rice video, however, the NFL said that they
were blindsided by the actions in the video, and suspended him indefinitely
(TMZ said it took one phone call to obtain the video after the NFL claimed that
they could not get the video). Aside from the absurdity that TMZ was the
moral arbiter in the situation, the NFL seemed either grossly incompetent in
their inability to obtain a video that the hotel was more than willing to
provide, or they lied. Neither one bodes well for the future of the most
popular sport in the United States.
With the Adrian Peterson circumstance, where Peterson was
charged with child abuse (he eventually plead no contest to a charge of misdemeanor
reckless assault), the NFL bundled
another attempt to set some industry standard for how the league wanted to
conduct itself. More than that, fans lined up near the courthouse and took to
every message board they could to support him. This was a man who was being
charged with striking a child, multiple times, causing numerous lacerations,
and their only reaction was unadulterated support, criticizing anyone who
suggested that the object of their affection could be guilty of ANY wrongdoing.
The real kicker, however, is that the Super Bowl, with
growing concerns of the conduct of the players and their safety, still set
viewership records. Also, I watched it. Meanwhile, stuff like this was going on in the world...
I don’t mean to make this an advertisement about John Oliver. Truth is, I just
love his show.
It was about a week after the Super Bowl that all of the
destructive factors came together for me. I realized the real issue with the NFL:
me. I was the problem, or, at least, I was part of the problem. I spent so much
time the previous year watching videos on NFL.com, checking my ESPN fantasy
app, checking the Patriots Salary Cap situation, and debating possible playoff
teams with my friends that I never stopped to realize the dangers, both health
and in perception, that the league presented. It altered my sense of justice,
my empathy for the health of others, and my prioritization of the different
issues that were going on in the world. All so that I could watch a person I’ve
never met hold up a metal statue.
I’m happy that it entertained me for the time that it did,
but the game has gotten to a point where it stands for something that I don’t
want to be a part of anymore. Maybe I’m naïve and it was always like this, I
just didn’t (want to) see it. Whatever the reason, I can’t contribute to this
empire, anymore. My time, my money, my energy could be much better spent. More
importantly, I hope that if enough people also feel like this, we can cause
change by affecting the one thing the NFL would notice: their wallet.
