After dinner, we switched on the tube to watch Sunday evening football. The announcer repeatedly credited a player’s “physicality” as “outstanding.” In fact, the word “physicality” repeatedly kept coming from the announcer’s mouth. What was he talking about? Was he using the term “physicality” as a euphemism for brute force? Seemed likely. What does he really mean, I wondered? After all, we all have a physical presence, right? No person is more physically present than any other person, I suppose. Palpable bodies each of us, so a good guess, of course, is that the announcer meant violent contact, body against body, something like throwing one’s physical self against a brick wall. Physicality! Of course, football is a game that requires full force, big bodies slamming into other big bodies. Violent clashes. The game requires harsh behavior even though the human body is not engineered to tolerate the forcefulness that these muscular, large people wreak upon one another. Often an injured player requires urgent attention from trainers and medical staff. Frequently, an injury cart trundles onto the field, unfolding the dismaying scene involving a group of players taking a knee near their fallen teammate. Some appear to be praying, because, well, the haplessly bent player has probably lost his physicality altogether, I guess.
So, I wonder, would fans watch the game with the same interest if it were played without so much “physicality?” Would ESPN and Fox Sports schedule games of flag football? Two-hand touch, maybe? Nah, that wouldn’t fill the stands with beer-buzzed fans, would it? Fans want a war, a few motionless athletes on the battlefield are what happens in combat.
Football zealots rise and scream when an opposing wide receiver is demolished by a valiant defensive back. Oooh, did you see that collision? That’s it, isn’t it? Violence makes the game go round. Those cringeworthy moments are a large part of the attraction. It difficult to pass an auto wreck on the freeway without gawking. Something about savage force arouses an excitement, brings an intense primal in-the-moment surge. Sure, we enjoy a lovely long pass, but the contact is what makes the game captivating, right? It is not art or skill that draws us. No, it is ferocity.
While an NFL game is 60 minutes playing time, the actual length of the broadcast is closer to four hours when considering commercials, network promotions, and public service notices. How much time is spent on football action, from the snap of the ball until the whistle signals the end of the play? Sources I have found peg real time playing action between 11 and 15 minutes. NFL games run between 70 to 100 ads per game. We get our payoff of violence piecemeal between all the yada-yada-yada. Add lots of blah-blah-blah from former players, coaches, and analysts who make prognostications and yuck it up ad nauseam. Put a stopwatch on the time it takes to complete the last two minutes of a game—might fill up the best part of an hour. Why? Money. Big money. Because more violence, that’s why. More commercial money, that’s why. More subliminal messaging, that’s why. We might dash to the bathroom when a break in action takes place, but no need to hurry because the sponsors will still be there when we return to the couch. It’s a hypnotic experience viewing the same commercials maybe a dozen times before the post-game show, which will surely add nothing to the quality of our lives.
What happens between plays and injury timeouts is mind-numbing. Literally. Violence on the field is not half as bad as the violence you encounter once we return from the bathroom. We have all suffered through those promotions for coming network programs, not to mention full-length movies about to open at your local megaplex. Lots of gunplay, exploding helicopters, people leaping across the gap between high-rise buildings, knife-wielding enemies, fists to the face, flying superheroes bashing bad people, and masked murderers about to do God-knows-what to the skimpily dressed young woman who just happens to be cowering in her dark bedroom. That’s entertainment!
Wait. Then the newsbreak. Scenes of the latest war flash across our mammoth flatscreen. Bodies strewn across streets among rubble and shattered buildings. Weeping women attending a lifeless soldier. The announcer warns, “Viewer discretion is advised.” What a world!
Back to the game. Thank God! Did you see that leg bend the wrong way when the nose tackle fell on the running back. Wow, someone just got messed up bad. That’ll end someone’s season. Any more hot wings? Maybe we should see that new movie tonight about the Green River Killer. Sounds good.
Nah, let’s stay home and play “Mortal Kombat.” Oh, and I just got the new edition of “Medal of Honor.” That game is out of sight, kill counts right on the screen and lots of spurting blood and loutish profanity.
Violence in outsized proportions depicted in football, movies, television promotions, and video games creates a pathological environment for us. That’s our sick culture, isn’t it?
No wonder.