Sunday, February 3, 2013

Football.

I was raised in north central Florida, and I am a Gator fan. A huge, unrelenting Gator fan. A Gator football fan. I wear my Gator jersey every game day in the Fall, whether I can watch the game or not. I tried to get on my high school team as the kicker (I played soccer). The coach laughed me out of his office. (I was 5'7" and about 120 at the time. He said I needed to gain 50 lbs to carry the pads alone.) I went to grad school at Clemson, a school known for its football team and devoted fans. I considered becoming a donor so I could get box seats at Death Valley. I am certainly not the biggest or most rabid football fan, but I love college ball.

Amendment: I loved college ball.

My relationship with violent sports has changed dramatically since I became a mother. The sport has become too violent and too amoral. By amoral, I mean that we allow criminals to play football for our amusement, and pay them millions of dollars for it. We don't seem to care what their crimes were, as long as they can run or throw or block a tackle. (Michael Vick, anyone? And he's just the tip of the iceberg.) The sport also incentivises young men to play when they shouldn't. Concussions, ligament damage, sprains and strains. The explicit message is "Get back on the field. Now." Colleges don't care about the student part of "student-athlete". That term is a joke. They violate NCAA rules about recruiting and paying college players, but honestly, they should be paying those kids. A decent football program brings in literally millions of dollars to a school and pays for almost every other sport at the top schools, all earned on the blood, sweat and tears of young men who get no education for their trouble. Only a small number go to the NFL where the real money is made, but even those men are trading their health and longevity for a paycheck. Studies have been coming out for years now about the dramatic incidence of traumatic brain injuries among football players. Much higher than the national average among people who don't wear helmets for a living.

When I was younger, I thought it would be so great to have a football player for a son. How much I would enjoy going to the stadium every game day and cheering him on. How I would proudly point him out to people. But now that I actually have a son? That thought terrifies me. I feel, deep in my soul, that I need to give up watching the sport because if my son fondly recalls watching football with his parents, then maybe he will want to play. And how can I tell him it's okay for us to watch other people's sons risk life and limb for our entertainment but I can't allow him to do the same?

I saw a game last Fall where a player got hit, went down and didn't get back up. I don't remember the details save one: his neck was broken and he was air lifted to a hospital in critical condition. I spent a lot of time thinking about his family. How they saw that on TV when they were cheering on their son, brother, nephew, grandson. I can't, in good conscience, participate in the spectacle any more. It's not just the violence, though that's a large part of it. It's the society that tells our young men that in order to be men, they must participate in violent sports for our amusement. They can't be kind or gentle or feminists. The have to be hard and mean and remorseless. I want my son to be the former, not the latter.

I barely watched football this past Fall. I didn't watch the Superbowl tonight. I don't know if I ever will again.

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