The Football Fan's Manifesto (9 page)

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Authors: Michael Tunison

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2. Passion: Insult the starting quarterback or head coach of her favorite team. Immediately provide her with a mannequin. Time her on how long it takes her to dismember it. Anything over twenty seconds isn’t marriage material. Impose five seconds of penalty time for each eyeball not gouged out. Remind yourself to never do that again.

3. Patience: Sit her down for a conversation with Chad Ocho Cinco. If she can stand his nonsensical musings for five minutes, she’s willing to deal with anything.

4. Appearance: You know what’s hotter than a girl who knows a lot about football? How about one who’s just hot? Sacrilege, I know, but the last thing you want to end up with is a female Packers fan. Sure, the various cheeses she feeds you will be delicious, but good luck peeling a woman the size of Gilbert Brown off you in the morning.

5. 40 Time: Clock her time in the 40-yard dash. This shouldn’t factor into your decision, but it will probably be fun to watch.

6. Pink Jerseys: Does she own one? If so, run. Now! Stop reading! Move!

7. Punctuality: Request a beer. You may be in the middle of a field with no refrigerator in sight, but the truly dedicated will find a way around this. The average commercial break is about two minutes, so make this your cutoff time. Anything over that mark is an automatic fail. Ditto if the beer she brings you is a Coors Light.

8. Is She Actually Submitting to This Test?:
Diner
was a movie released in the ’80s that was depicting life in the ’50s. Women were considerably more subservient in those days, so much so that they might actually put up with a bullshit exam like this. Women ain’t having it nowadays, playboy. So if you find one willing to undergo this charade, it probably means she loves you. Just marry her already, you dumb fuck. Like anyone else is going to put up with you.

 

IV.5 The Obligatory Guidelines for Female Fans

Women have made startling progress in football fandom. So much so that the definition of who is a football fan is quickly and dramatically changing. Football, more than any other major sport, has long been considered the province of the penile persuasion. Women, so went the conventional wisdom, would never be interested in a sport where people violently flung themselves into each other, or at least one in which Oprah didn’t play a prominent role. However, with each passing year, more women have proven their bloodlust is as strong as that of men. The road to female fan proliferation was not an easy one, especially considering how much of the language of fandom is so heavily cloaked in misogyny. Male football fans often express their disapproval of a player or a rival by calling that person a “bitch,” “pussy,” “pussybasket,” “crotch pheasant,” “twatblossom,” “cockwallet,” “fucktaster,” or another such term of endearment.

If you’re a female fan, you’re bound to get harassed a
few thousand times per game. Unlike baseball fans, who are polite to the point of dithering, football fans aren’t shy about obnoxiously and drunkenly coming on to you.

Sensing the groundswell of new female fans, the NFL has tried to capitalize on the boom in several only marginally patronizing ways. A number of franchises hold football clinics for women to teach them the basics of the game, which is an asset for women whose boyfriends or husbands don’t like them enough to teach them things. Taking it a step further, in the summer of 2007, the Baltimore Ravens started a fan club specifically for women called Purple. The most prestigious members of Purple are known as the Lavender Ladies, which is something so mind-bendingly tacky it could only exist in Baltimore, or possibly Green Bay. Of course, much to the consternation of Ravens fans of any gender, the team with the highest percentage of women in its fan base is the rival Steelers, because apparently women can’t get enough of waving kitchen towels around.

That isn’t to say female fans don’t still struggle for acceptance. Some gripe that men are intimidated by women who unabashedly possess a profound understanding of and keen insight into the game, fearing that if a woman knows more than they do about football it somehow undermines their basic manhood. Well, yeah. Sure it does. But there’s a decided upside too. And that is that men need female fans. Why? Because any unhealthy fixation for men is suddenly made socially acceptable when women find it appealing.

IV.5. A GROUND RULES FOR FEMALE FANS

Don’t wear pink jerseys.
—Ever. That the NFL sells them is an affront to your dignity. At best, they can be worn ironically by male fans as a means of mocking a player who is considered preening and fey. Someone, like, say, Tony Romo. But for women it’s a definite no-no.

Don’t be overbearing about your football acumen.

You know
you know a lot about football, but you want everyone else to know it too, so you feel the need to force your expertise on other fans all the time. Women can’t be faulted for this insecurity, as it’s the result of pigheaded men who refuse to believe women know sports. Still, feeling the need to prove yourself at all times is unnecessary and grating. Say a guy questions how you could possibly understand a Cover 2 defense. Don’t waste your breath explaining how Tony Dungy’s version gets all the credit though it really originated with the Pittsburgh Steelers schemes in the 1970s, when you could just punch him in the dick. So much easier, so much more amusing.

Don’t adopt your boyfriend’s team.
—I won’t be so rigid as to say you aren’t allowed to date—or even marry—outside your own fan base, but for God’s sake, don’t adopt the team of your new boyfriend. Don’t you have any self-respect? You’re your own person. To do so smacks of craven codependence.

Don’t say rival players are cute.
—If you’re a fan of the Colts, it’s your duty to say you don’t find Tom Brady attractive, even if you do. If you’re not thoroughly disgusted by every player who’s not on your team, you’re liable to swap your baby for a cuter one in the nursery. You monster.

Use the language of the oppressor.
—There’s no better way to take the power out of misogynistic language than by using it yourself. That’s called reclaiming, but it’s also called being funny. So go crazy! Call a guy a bitch. Tell opposing fans to suck your dick. See how empowering that is? Admit to the book that you’re turned on.

Don’t be surprised that even if you do everything right men will still shun you.
—The fact remains, many male fans see football as a male-bonding time or at least a respite from women, especially the married ones. It is not wise to deny them this as it will only cause problems. This is why homes should have at least two HD screens. If Mr. Man needs his alone time with the pigskin, even if you like to watch, you can act like giving it to him is a big deal. That’s a great bargaining chip.

IV.6 Vow to Have a Football-Themed Wedding

Mazel tov! You actually found someone. Marty Schottenheimer wants to know how you closed the deal. It’s no easy feat. Most of fankind has trouble keeping the TV
tuned to the same game for an entire quarter, let alone putting up with one person for decades at a time.

If you have come this far and she still doesn’t like football, you’re going to have to rethink this whole thing tout de suite. Single life isn’t so bad if it means unfettered access to the Sport of Sports. By the time you hit your mid-forties, you’ll be having as much sex as the married guys anyway. And there will be no one to stand in your way when you turn your one-bedroom apartment into a veritable team shrine, replete with game-worn player underwear obtained on the black market and nailed to your living room wall.

But if she can at least tolerate your lifestyle you might as well go through with marriage. And what better way to jump into this eternity than planning a football-themed wedding? Blowing it off and eloping in the Caribbean? Sure, but you can’t afford that.

First thing’s first, as first things often are. When is this big matrimonial mishap gonna go down? Planning it during the football season invites a clusterfuck of Raiderlike proportions. Good luck finding a weekend when everyone’s team is on its bye. With a seemingly limitless number of weekends to fill between mid-February and August, you’d be a fool not to go for the spring wedding. Plus you get a ceremony complemented by the enchanting efflorescence of the season, and everyone knows football fans really get off on that shit.

With the spring wedding date set, an outdoor event is definitely the call. In football, teams that play in a dome
are always perceived as weak because they never are subjected to the elements. The same applies to people who get married indoors. The mettle of your relationship is not tested. The thing could fall apart by the first snowfall. That’s why you need an outdoor ceremony. (Sweeping generalizations borne out by limited history form the backbone of all football discourse, so let’s roll with it.)

The trappings should be obvious to any football fan: bride and groom enter through giant inflatable helmets, the guests sit on bleacher seats, the priest/minister/rabbi/officiant is decked out in a referee’s uniform, the bride comes out to “Crazy Train” by Ozzy Osbourne, or Zombie Nation, depending on whichever you find amps up the crowd more effectively.

Upon arriving, each guest should receive a jersey. Just like NFL rosters, the numbers should be assigned according to position. Anyone who arrives after exceeding the ninety-nine available spots will be placed on waivers and can be acquired by another reception.

1-2: Bride and groom

3-9: Parents, siblings, minister/rabbi/nondenominational referee

10-19: Close friends, mentors, the person no one likes who gets number 13

20-39: Extended family, local baker with whom you share a close relationship, running backs and defensive backs

40-49: College roommates, AA sponsors, ex-girlfriends/ex-boyfriends

50-59: Assorted single people, Joey Porter if he accepts your invitation

60-79: Coworkers, neighbors, Laotians, random people with interesting jobs

80-89: Wedding crashers, children born out of wedlock, cousin who “ain’t right in the head”

90-99: Catering staff, chef, bartender, the one fucker who just had to have 95 THANKS FOR BEING DIFFICULT, FRANK!

Once the guests have been seated on the home and visiting sides, the processional and opening words can commence:

Minister: “Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today in the sight of Goddell and these witnesses to join number 1 and number 2 in matrimony, which is commended to be honorable among all men; and therefore is not by any to be entered into unadvisedly or lightly, but reverently, discreetly, advisedly, and solemnly. And definitely not without an adequate supply of wings. Into this holy estate these two persons present now come to be joined. If any person can show just cause why they may not be joined together, let them toss their red challenge flags before the next snap is taken.”

The bride and the groom will present the exchanging of vows.

Best Man: “ARE YOU FUCKING READY? THIS IS IT! RIGHT NOW, RIGHT HERE, WHERE ELSE WOULD YOU RATHER BE? LET’S DO THIS SHIT!”

Bride: “YEAH!”

Groom: “C’MON! LET’S GO! LET’S GO! IT’S OUR TIME!”

Bride: “NO ONE CAN TAKE THIS FROM US! NO ONE CAN TAKE THIS FROM US!”

Groom: “LET’S TEAR THE ROOF OFF THIS BITCH!”

Bride: “I’M ABOUT TO RUN THROUGH A FUCKING BRICK WALL!”

Groom: “AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!”

Bride: “AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!”

Minister: “And now the presentation of the rings.”

Groom: “I give this ring as a symbol of OUR COMMITMENT, DAY IN AND DAY OUT, TO PLAY TOGETHER AS A UNIT, NEVER TO STRAY FROM THE AIMS OF THE WHOLE, AND TO PUT YOUR FUCKING GUTS ON THE LINE EVERY TIME YOU STEP OUT OF BED IN THE MORNING.”

Bride: “And, to you, I offer this ring as a symbol OF FUCKING SHUT UP FOR SIXTY MINUTES, TO NEVER HAVE AN OUNCE OF QUIT, TO
BREATHE FIRE AND SHIT NAPALM FOR AS LONG AS WE CAN PUT ON THE MOTHERFUCKING PADS!”

Minister: “By the power vested in me by the American Football Conference, the National Football Conference, and the Office of the Commissioner of the National Football League, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may exchange flying shoulder-butts in a celebratory fashion, on three.”

IV.7 Raise Your Kids to Root for Your Team Through Coercion

In football, as in life, you need a game plan. Nowhere in that game plan should there be anything about getting a woman pregnant, in or out of wedlock. It’s not part of the scheme I’ve careful and meticulously laid out for you. I can offer you little in the way of advice on getting out of the mess you’re in. There are no audibles here, unless you know how to game a paternity test. If you do, there might actually be a future for you in the NFL, though not necessarily as a player. More likely as a “consultant.” Not able to scam the test? Then welcome to the suck. What you’re faced with is not all that different from a team trying to run out the clock when they’re down big and ready to cut their losses. Except instead of sixty minutes, you’re gonna need to run off sixty years. Sorry, no new life is coming next week. That said, there’s still no excuse to shed your parenting game face for your little bundle of wonderful. At least until it’s eighteen.

But if you’ve gone and done the deed, buck up, sulk monkey. Most of your favorite professional athletes have the same problem. Only they have money to pay someone else to raise the kid—or, as is more often the case, kids—for them. As a father, your job is not dissimilar from that of a coordinator to a domineering coach: stay out of the way, let your spouse make the big parenting decisions. That way you can reap the benefits when things go well and avoid the limelight when they don’t. Granted, a coordinator stands to gain a possible head coaching job of his own, while at best you avoid complete destitution and possible public humiliation. Again, life can’t be as enjoyable as football. That can’t be stressed enough.

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