Bus One Seven: Men of War
Testicles and history make a deadly combination; thank goodness for football!
By Roderick Armageddon

What is the deal with men? I mean, really, just what the hell is it with men and their proclivity for aggressive behavior? I’m a man—more or less—yet I simply don’t understand why I am the way that I am. Now, It’s not that I walk around in a complete haze as to the nature of my desires and actions, but with a few select things I simply don’t get the reasons behind my decisions and attractions. Of all the potential “man” questions I can’t find an answer for, there’s one that rises above them all. No, it has nothing to do with my unexplainably unstoppable desire for sex. It’s far more complex than that. Just why is it that I love American football so damn much?

Each August I push myself into risky territory by forcing football into a schedule already tightly packed with activities centered on my wife and daughter—time that I cherish. I can’t fully explain it, but I’m somehow compelled to wedge football into a life already filled with responsibilities and distractions, knowing well that my wife despises everything about the game. I’m not sure why she hates it so deeply, but she does and always has. She can hear the sound of a stadium full of screaming fans miles away and somehow can sense that the television has been recently used for the tawdry activity of football viewing. Heck, she can smell the pigskin in the air before the first snap of the season.

Don’t get me wrong, I know a good deal of her disdain comes from the fact that it takes away potentially valuable time for our family. During football season I want to know what’s going down on the field on both Saturday (college games) and Sunday (pro games), the two days of the week that our family actually spends together in their entirety. I love this time with my family too, but I also love to watch the competition on the field. I wish this was where it ended, but it’s not. The real issue here is that I desire much more than just watching the competition on the field. I crave the entire package presented by the purveyors of the game. This includes the pre-season reports and scrimmages, the scores and editorial on SI.com, the local sports reports on Saturday and Sunday nights (where I actually see the majority of games). It’s the collateral that gets my heart really pumping, which is great, because I don’t actually end up watching much of the actual game.

Unless I go to a game in person (I’ve been to one live game this year) I probably end up watching televised games for about an hour—maybe two, tops—on any given weekend. I am by no means a super fan, but I do find myself obsessing about the sport every week, from the first kick-off to the Super Bowl.

Embarrassed as I am to admit this, I must in order to take the first step towards recovery. My obsession with all that is the sport has gone so far that I found a site that tabulates the results of high school games in the small towns where I used to spend my autumn Friday nights. I have fond memories of watching the local prep gridiron when I wasn’t out performing in the marching band at half time. That’s how far I’ve gone; I’m not only interested in what the NFL and NCAA are up to, I’m especially interested in how my collegiate and high school alma maters are performing, reading every bit of news I can scrape off the W eb . It’s as if I’m more obsessed with all that is the game then the actual game itself. Jesus, I need a drink.

So just what the hell is wrong with me? Aside from blocking the rush in after-school games with my brother and his friends I haven’t ever played the game in a real competitive environment, so why am I so obsessed with it? Is there something inside me that just has to channel my aggression in a seemingly friendly and competitive way? Have thousands of years of warring left my genes encoded with the need to battle, yet with little opportunity to do so (and little desire for pain or death)?

Perhaps. I know the great Pele was a worldwide advocate for soccer (football to the rest of the world) as a means for the world’s many nations to exercise their aggression with one another in a constructive way. I fully believe in this as well. If the United States would accept soccer with the same level of vigor that it embraces American football, we might be able to align with the rest of the world on a global competitive stage and raise the power of sport to much more than mere entertainment. Who knows, anything is possible, right?

It would be far more constructive to solve global problems at the Olympics and World Cup then to let some numb-nut Texas oil tycoon rampage the Middle East . But what if the world’s men could move beyond the reactive nature of our genes and appetite for aggression? What if we could rise above our quest for the “cup?” What if? Then what?

Ah hell, I can’t answer that. But I do think the Colts are destined to kick everyone’s collective ass this year. Really, did you see the way Manning played against Cincinnati ? That man doesn’t stop.