Tag: football

Posted on

My Addiction to NFL Football

By Jim Spiegel

On this Super Bowl Eve I find myself reflecting again on the first Super Bowl I ever watched.  It was Super Bowl V between the Baltimore Colts and Dallas Cowboys:  I distinctly remember watching the Colts beat the Cowboys on a 10-yard Jim O’Brien field goal.  “The Colts–what a boring team,” I scoffed, “Who could ever cheer for them?”  Little did I know that I would eventually become a diehard Colts fan, albeit after the franchise’s notorious move to Indianapolis.  I was drawn into following NFL football that year (1970) by two of my brothers, and my hometown Detroit Lions had a very good season, making the playoffs as the NFC wild-card with a 10-4 record.  However, Dallas edged them 5-0 in the first round.  I cried.  But I was heartened a few weeks later when Dallas got theirs against the “boring” Colts.  Misery loves company—even for a 7-year-old.

Despite my following the game closely for more than four decades since, I recall that 1970 season better than any other NFL season.  It made a huge impression on me at several levels.  One game between my Lions and their division rival Minnesota Vikings was especially crushing.  Yet it was not as devastating as the one the week before against the New Orleans Saints, who upset the Lions on a record breaking 63-yard field goal by Tom Dempsey as time expired.  It haunts me to this day though, again ironically, I eventually became a Saints fan, too.  I know, I need therapy.

So what is it about this game that fascinates so many of us, even to the point that we find ourselves watching highlights of old games on You Tube, reliving the most heartbreaking losses of our sports fan lives?  I have no idea.  Aristotle would say it’s about catharsis—purging negative emotions through experiencing (or re-experiencing) the “tragedy” of tough losses.  Perhaps.  Maybe there is some other explanation.  All I know is that I’m an addict of NFL football and will be for life.  And tomorrow’s Super Bowl will be yet another opportunity to revel in the biggest game of the year.  Regardless of the outcome, it’s another chance to take solace in the fact that a lot of other people share my disappointment that our teams didn’t win it all this year.  Like I said, I need therapy.

Oh, and by the way, I’m picking the Ravens in the game tomorrow:  23-20.  In overtime!

Posted on

On Football, Dogs, and Athletic Achievement

By Jim Spiegel

I love football, particularly of the NFL variety.  So for fans like me, this is the most exciting time of the year, as the playoffs begin next week.  Of course, post-season play is the most exciting time in any sport at any level, but in the NFL it’s especially thrilling, because it’s a single elimination tournament culminating in the single most viewed sporting event of the year—the Super Bowl.

I follow the NFL closely—well, at least as closely as one can without the benefit of television or lots of free time.  I do manage to watch a few regular season games, usually those featuring one of my favorite teams—the Colts and the Saints (a great regular season for both of these teams, and their fans, by the way).  And I’ll be sure to watch all of their playoff games in the coming weeks.

Yesterday, while playing fetch with my dog, my thoughts drifted off to football.  Not random daydreams, my thoughts were inspired by the fact that my dog is quite a nimble beast—fleet of paw and amazingly elusive.  Watching him romp in the yard is a treat, as he can stop and start on a dime and instantly accelerate to a full sprint.  As a young, 50-pound standard poodle, he might be rather ordinary, but compared to humans his athleticism is impressive.

So the thought occurred to me that has occurred to many football-loving dog-owners:  How would an NFL team fare against my dog, or any dog for that matter, if they had to run him down on the field?  Of course, this premise has been the subject of a few silly films over the years.  But consider this:  If dogs were allowed to play in the NFL and if a dog such as my standard poodle could be given the IQ of, say, a human 7-year-old, then that dog would be the MVP of the league.  In fact, he would easily be a Hall-of-Fame player.  How so?  Well, no one could catch him.  Even the best NFL defenders would look inept trying to tackle him.

What position would he play?  Clearly you wouldn’t want to play the dog at quarterback or wide-receiver, where good hands are a must.  Nor would you want to give a dog the task of blocking or kicking, for obvious reasons.  So, granting our canine friend the right to carry the ball in his mouth (which isn’t illegal by NFL rules, as far as I know), the position of running back becomes an obvious choice.  Also, kick or punt return duties would be a possibility.  In any of these positions, once the dog gets possession of the ball, forget it.  He’s gone—leaving a trail of flailing defenders in his wake.

Yes, it’s a silly suggestion that conjures funny mental images.  But it also raises some interesting questions, both about football and athletics generally.  First, what does it say about football as a sport that a dog with the IQ of a first-grader would be a dominant player, probably the greatest the game has ever seen?  I don’t have any answers to proffer here—at least not yet.  I simply pose the question for your consideration.

Second, this is a good reminder that much of human athletic achievement, as impressive as it is in so many sports contexts, is a species-centric thing.  True, only humans can play tennis, golf, baseball, hockey, and many other sports.  But when it comes to running, jumping, swimming, and some other basic athletic skills, the animal kingdom puts us to shame.  It isn’t just cheetahs, horses, and greyhounds that can outrun Olympic gold-medal sprinters, but even cats, raccoons, and squirrels can do so.  And I suppose there are thousands of species of fish who can swim faster than Michael Phelps.

So the next time you’re blown away by the speed, power, or agility of a professional athlete, you might want to put his or her ability in broader zoological context.  And when you’re watching your favorite team in the NFL playoffs in the coming weeks, just consider how much better they would be if they had my dog returning kickoffs.

Posted on

Lagidorp’s Playbook

By Jim Spiegel

There once was a football player named Lagidorp who deeply loved his team’s playbook.  He not only studied it diligently but encouraged his teammates to do the same.  Lagidorp—or “Lag,” as he came to be called—was a running back, and his many duties included blocking and short receiving routes as well as carrying the ball.  His first year with the team, Lag worked enthusiastically to fulfill his responsibilities.  But during his second year, the difficulty of some aspects of his job began to get to him.  While he loved carrying the ball, he found route running to be tiresome and blocking for the quarterback to be downright unpleasant.  “Why should I be stuck with picking up defenders that get past our offensive line?” he thought to himself.  “I’m a running back, not a blocker.”  Soon Lag found that some of his teammates had misgivings of their own about the duties laid out for them in the playbook.  And they would sometimes share their criticisms with one another.  So Lag’s love for the playbook waned, as did his respect for Coach, who devised the playbook.  Whereas earlier in his career Lag could trust Coach about the demands the playbook placed on him, now he found it very difficult to do so.

Eventually, Lag decided to ignore or de-emphasize some of the more demanding or “unreasonable” plays—those which required him to block for the quarterback.  “This is just too ‘old school,'” he would say.  “Today everyone should know that running backs shouldn’t have to block huge defensive lineman.”  Predictably, however, Lag’s approach resulted in some quarterback sacks, including one that cost his team a game and another that injured the quarterback.  Naturally, several teammates and assistant coaches chided Lag for his poor play.  While he  publicly acknowledged his mistakes, Lag privately resented their “arrogance” in correcting him.

As time went on, Lag found others outside the organization who shared his resentment toward his coaching staff, teammates, and especially Coach, for their unreasonable expectations.  Lag would often consider ways the playbook could be improved and how, if he were Coach, he would do things very differently.  By the end of his fourth year Lag had had enough, and he quit the team.  The last straw came when several teammates confronted him about his refusal to “play by the book.”  “You guys are part of the problem,” he told them.  “If you want to blame me for thinking for myself, then so be it.”

So Lagidorp joined another team—a team in a different kind of league where players wrote their own playbooks.  By some strange coincidence, though, all of the players’ playbooks ended up looking very much the same in this league—with very few responsibilities for helping teammates and where most plays emphasized “doing what comes naturally on the field.”  However, while the players claimed to enjoy this freedom, they did not improve as players but deteriorated in their skills.  Nor did they work well as teammates—if you could call them such—especially since they had no Coach.

There were also many more injuries in this alternative league.  This did not bother Lag much at first, but as the casualties mounted, he began to recognize that something was wrong.  Still he continued to play for his new team—until he had an injury of his own.  In the middle of his second season on the new team, Lag blew out his knee.  The injury called for reconstructive surgery, which meant a long rehabilitation.  During this time away from the game, Lag reflected on the previous five years.  He realized how foolish he had been in questioning his Coach and the playbook.  He also saw how unfair he had been to his teammates who, for all their flaws, were really doing the right thing in admonishing him. 

So as Lag did his rehab he resolved to return to his original team.  He contacted one of his former teammates, who was thrilled to hear this.  Eventually, Lag humbly approached Coach, apologizing for his irresponsible behavior and asking if he could try out for the team again.  “I was very foolish in the way I behaved,” he said.  “I’m ready to be a good teammate and play by the book.  In fact, at this point, I think I’d rather be a water boy than play in that other league.”  Coach forgave him, saying “We’d love to have you back on the team, assuming you really are ready to do all of the work.  It’s too bad it took an injury to get you to see the light.  But, in the end, you’ll probably be better for it.”

So Lagidorp tried out for his former team and made it back on the roster.  This time he didn’t seek the limelight, but he played a crucial role on the team and was especially pleased to block for his quarterback.  “Anything to help the team,” he would often say—and not just in public but even privately to himself.

Posted on

Confessing My Bigotry

By Amy Spiegel

In recent months our country has made great strides to overcome long held prejudices and bigotries. It has been a time of historic progress and cause for much celebration. But it has also been a time of reflection and introspection. Both as a nation and on an individual level, we have been forced to assess our core beliefs and convictions. In taking stock of my beliefs, I have been saddened to realize that I have a deep-seated, narrow-minded intolerance of a certain group of people. Not so much the people, actually, but rather the activity in which they participate. After all, as we are taught in the Sunday School of Tolerance, “Love the sinner, not the sin.” So I have decided to come out of the closet and confess my long-held discrimination against . . . golfers. Not only do I not like golf, I hold this derogatory opinion unapologetically.

They say that many prejudices can be traced back to your upbringing and a lack of exposure to other people’s points of view. Perhaps this is true in my case as well. As a young child, I didn’t know any golfers. None of our neighbors were golfers and we certainly didn’t have any golfers in our family. My first contact with golf wasn’t until I was a teenager when I was asked on a golfing date. My date made no effort to dispel the stereotypes of golf such as that it is more boring than watching grass grow. He wouldn’t even let me drive the cart which has always seemed, to me, the best part of the game. It was, hands down, one of the most tedious afternoons I have ever spent, not to mention the worst first date I have ever had the displeasure to experience. (There was no second date with this fella, if you were curious.)

Later in life, when I might have overcome this morally handicapped view, my own perceptions was reinforced by bigoted professors who taught that golf courses were a great force for evil in the world. Their propaganda taught me that runoff from the fertilizers used on golf courses is a serious pollution problem, not to mention the waste of water involved in keeping those greens green. (But perhaps I am the pot calling the kettle black. Remember, I am the girl who contributes several 32 oz. Styrofoam cups to a landfill near you every week.)

The final nail in the coffin of my dislike for golf was hammered home when I married Jim, who is a strict segregationist. He strongly believes in categorizing as “sports” such competitive activities as baseball, football, and basketball, while golf belongs with such things as shuffleboard and tiddlywinks in the category of “games”. 

I am sure there is a great deal to golf that I am missing, but frankly, I don’t care to discover its hidden value. Let’s face it guys—the golf course is your shopping mall. True, shopping is more intellectually and physically demanding, since it requires math skills and is conducted without the aids of caddies and carts, but both activities give you an opportunity to hang out with your friends for hours on end while spending a great deal of money. So the next time the wife is heading out the door on her way to Macy’s, just envision her in plaid pants with a golf bag swung over her shoulder and wish her well. Maybe in this way we can all rise above our prejudices and recognize that golfers are people too.