NOVEMBER 15, 2021 – Yesterday, on my own initiative, I watched several quarters of televised NFL games, half-time talk by commentators, and post-game chatter by Aaron Rodgers. For me this was a first—I’d never turned on the TV and searched for a football game.
My new, strange (for me) diversion is an effort to share an interest of our older son, who from a young age has been an ardent follower of pro-football. He wasn’t on hand when I turned on the TV yesterday—evidence that my game plan is a serious one. By the time he appeared, I’d accumulated a list of “dumb questions,” which he fielded patiently.
The more I watched, the more interested I became, but I couldn’t dismiss years of cynicism about the role that football plays in our culture, and how poorly our obsession reflects on us. Our son wouldn’t disagree.
First are the spectacular sums of money involved. One of my “dumb questions”: “How much does Rodgers make?” Answer: A $134,000,000 four-year contract, with a $57,600,000 signing bonus, and $98,700,000 guaranteed—not including endorsements. Supplemental answer: “Patrick Mahomes makes more—$45,000,000 per season. To put things in perspective, the NFL does operate under a wage cap, and the minimum comp per year per player is $660,000, which, in 2021, applies to 41 players. That’s a bargain for billionaire team owners, especially if you consider that it’s not the owners who have their brains bounced around once a week every week of every season, not to mention what happens on the pre-season practice field and between games.
The NFL is a giant, multi-engine revenue machine. The central engine is TV money, but ticket sales, streaming, concessions, licensing and merchandising, corporate sponsorships, and gambling (under a 2018 U.S. Supreme Court case, states may now allow sports gambling; 20 states already do, with another seven considering bills that would allow it) also account for billions more in revenue.
That’s all well and good, except . . . when you consider all the causes in American life that are perennially underfunded. Like the local bridge with rusted girders or the symphony orchestra struggling for existence because miserly funding of the arts in public education leaves us unexposed and unappreciative. While we argue over how to restore our neglected national infrastructure, our culture goes wild and crazy over football—including college ball (with total revenues topping the NFL’s) and our state-of-the-art stadia, often built with public funds.
As much as I’m learning to appreciate the sport of football, I feel scandalized by what the business of football says about our national priorities.
Then there’s the martial feature of football. How is it that this national pastime has become a recruiting ground for the military? What does the military have to do with football—aside from the parallel that both involve the clash of armor? I find the mix (“mix-up”?) to be a dangerous combination. National defense is one thing. Militaristic nationalism among 45,000 screaming “patriots”—millions more remotely—Nuremberg-style is quite another.
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© 2021 by Eric Nilsson
