Tuesday, June 21, 2011

When in Rome Part Three...

Ever tried explaining fantasy sports to someone? It’s downright embarrassing. When I was in college, my roommate and I joined a fantasy baseball league with some of our friends. On the day of our draft, we declared a corner in the computer lab on campus and obnoxiously (and pathetically) trash talked each others picks. The girl I liked at the time asked me what we were doing, and suddenly reality set in. I was arguing with my friends over a team of grown men (who didn’t know I existed) I had assembled. I had created a fantasy world where I was the mastermind behind the team. I was pretending to be Frank Wren or Theo Epstein.

The football version of fantasy sports is by far the most glaring example of our obsession with the NFL. Using players as giant, muscular avatars, the experience of living out our inner Tyler Durdens has skyrocketed to new heights. In the 2010 season alone, an estimated 18 million people played fantasy football across the country. (Some reports estimate a number much greater.)

Fantasy football is so popular even established and respected news networks who don’t specialize in sports regularly feature reports on which sleeper free agents can help you win your office league. Articles with titles like “Fantasy Football could help you get a raise” pop up across the internet, promising corporate networking possibilities for our online addiction. Even the business world is forced to create fantasy football policies due to the hundreds of millions in lost revenue caused by employees playing fantasy football at work.

Opponents to fantasy football believe the activity is ruining the experience of supporting a team, but those puritan cries are muffled by the mountains of revenue brought in by this billion dollar industry. Therefore the NFL created a channel catered specifically to fantasy leagues. The Red Zone Network is the watered down, instant gratification version of Sunday games. By showing only scoring opportunities from every team, fantasy players can watch their teams win or lose as if they were watching an actual game. If this were in Sports Illustrated, it would appear in the “Sign of the Apocalypse” section.

But of course the NFL loves fantasy leagues. In what other context would a meaningless touchdown in a blowout game keep fans glued to the screen? Only if they’re trailing by five points against the guy from accounting in the office league.

Again, try explaining this to someone who doesn’t care.

The appeal of fantasy football is not in the activity itself (albeit fun), but rather in the intimate connection it gives fans who otherwise wouldn’t have access to actual NFL players. Men who are faster, stronger, and more powerful become pawns in the hands of men who’ve seen the bottom of a milkshake more than they’ve seen the end of a mile run.

I don’t mean to paint fantasy players as pathetic slobs (I’ve played several times), but it does bring the average person closer to a world that is otherwise unattainable.

In my previous posts, I compared the NFL to the gladiators of ancient Rome. Applying this same logic to fantasy sports, could you imagine fantasy gladiators? Or maybe war conquests? Fantasy Crusades could be a huge hit.

Indulging in these games is no more absurd than enjoying the game itself. We should, however, be honest about what drives the intensity behind this activity. In the ESPN 30 for 30 film, Silly Little Game, fantasy sports creators said owning their original fantasy baseball team made them feel like gods. Their passion was in the palm of their hands, regardless if it was a fantasy.

With the proper perspective, fantasy sports can be more fun than simply watching the games. The story about my friends meeting in the computer lab is one of the best memories I have from my years at East Tennessee State (regardless of my embarrassment). However, it can also morph into a vehicle for an NFL junkie’s desperate attempts at glory without ever risking a concussion, torn ACL, or separated shoulder. Like a man visiting a strip to club to experience a woman, this endeavor will be ultimately unfulfilling.

Monday, June 13, 2011

When in Rome Part Two...

Tyler Durden: Hey, you created me. I didn’t create some loser alter-ego to make myself feel better.

Ever walked into a college poster sale? It’s exactly what it sounds like. Large images tailored specifically for young men with a small section of generic coffee house images and Salvador Dali reprints. But regardless of where and when this poster sale visit may happen, I would be willing to bet the cash in my wallet (currently $12) you’ll find Tyler Durden’s bruised and bloodied face on one of those wall sized images.

If you are a male between the ages of 35 and 20, there’s a good chance watching/reading Fight Club somehow affected your path to manhood. The story of a white collar bachelor embracing his primal alter ego resonated its way through my generation like a Playboy through a boot camp barrack. Just ask any man on the the street the rules of fight club. I’ll bet another $12 he knows them.

Differing from other blockbusters, this film’s popularity is more Beowulf than Titanic. Fight Club spoke to something buried deep within me; a part of me that longed to be a conquerer with bloody knuckles. Like thousands of other young men, my friends and I in high school started our own fight club. We met in a cinder block building, paired up with someone our size, and fought. The bouts were more often an embarrassment, but we saw them as epic.

In my previous post, I posed the question of why we watch professional football, a sport that leaves its players crippled physically, mentally, and emotionally, with such religious fervor. The answer may have more to do with our basic, core selves.

Risking life and well being for the glory of victory are themes as old as athletics and are not new to American football. Ancient Mesoamerican cultures (Mayan, Aztec, etc.) typically used losers of a “ballgame” as human sacrifices in religious ceremonies and the gladiator events of Rome were based entirely around one man killing another.

This running theme of dominance over an opponent has now evolved into it’s current manifestation; the NFL. In a highly structured form of Fight Club, the line of scrimmage is the 2011 version of what’s always been a part of human history. Watching lineman crash into each other bears a striking resemblance to the 500 year old sport of sumo wrestling. When stripped to an even simpler form, lineman look more like big horn sheep fighting over a female.

To think of football (or sports in general) rationally is to admit it’s absurd. With everything we are learning about concussions and the effects of traumatic hits to the head, playing professional football is as logical as starting smoking when you’re 25. You’ll easily find yourself quoting Jerry Seinfeld in what will ultimately be a depressing conversation; “We chose instead to make little plastic hats so that we can continue our head crackin’ lifestyles.”

What is even more absurd than the fact that we play football is that the Dallas Cowboys are worth $1.8 billion and every seat in their monstrous over priced stadium (average $160 a seat) is sold out for every game.

Could it be that experiencing powerful, violent competition is as essential as sex or friendship? And the NFL is the most accessible outlet for these cravings of our suppressed alter-egos? ESPN Radio’s Colin Cowherd said America has an addiction to football. The owners can continue the lockout as long as they want because they know we’re coming back. The NFL is where we get our fix.

There are those who satisfy this part of themselves through other means. Skydivers, Wall Street executives, and entrepreneurs are all tapping into the same risk taking alter ego. For the average, “play it safe” citizen, though, these risks are simply not possible or too... risky.

Therefore, the base for our debilitating addiction to the NFL stems from a widespread inability to risk everything for glory. Whether its family, career, or phobias, a sense of self preservation or responsibility to another person drives someone from danger, yet the  inner Tyler Durden brings them to sit in the stands to see someone else put their health and well-being on the line to achieve greatness.

To be continued....