Pro Choice (About Football)

I have a complicated relationship with football and for that I blame gym class.

(I blame many a thing on gym class, but those are stories for another day.)

In the fall of my freshman year of high school we were gifted with a sunny, somewhat warm day. I don’t remember what sport we were supposed to be playing at the time, but it was an indoor sport of some kind. When the day turned out to be temperate and there was an empty practice field beside the school, Mr. Snare decided to take us outside to play football.

Of all the gym teachers I had in high school, Mr. Snare was one of the better ones save for this incident. He was one of the approximately thirty coaches for the school football team (it seemed like every male gym teacher, administrator, and history teacher had a whistle and some kind of role on the football field which was apparently necessary to make our team only kind of suck), so he was excited to take the class out to play football. It was within the first few months of school and we had not played football in class yet.

Now, if I were a gym teacher and I was introducing a new game to my class, the first thing I would do is explain the rules of the game. I would not assume that everyone in the class knew how to play the game, throw them the ball, and blow the whistle. This was Mr. Snare’s mistake: he assumed we knew what the hell we were doing.

At fourteen I had seen some football on television, but I did not care about the game in the slightest, definitely not enough to make me pay any attention to how the game was played. And so it was that when someone threw me the ball (for what reason they did this I cannot fathom) and the rest of the class proceeded to rush at me, I immediately threw the ball to someone else on my team. The whistle blew and a handful of my charming male classmates immediately let me know, “You can’t do that! What are you doing?!? You ruined the play!”

I do not hold Mr. Snare responsible for the teenage boys being dicks; that’s not his fault. But this is: instead of stopping to explain what was wrong about what I did, he took the ball, gave it to another student, and blew the whistle for us to keep playing. I do not remember the rest of the class but I am certain that all I did was hang back and run around the field a little bit when everyone else did.

I was vaguely aware at the time that this whole incident was misogynistic. After all, only boys could play on the football team. I’m not saying that girls can’t like or know about football, but I am quite certain I was not the only girl in the class who didn’t know what the hell we were doing. (Actually, I’m quite certain there were boys in the class who didn’t know how to play either, but I’m willing to bet that the majority of us in the dark were female.) Mr. Snare was catering to the boys in the class who were on the football team in addition to satisfying his own interest in the sport. To be honest, I don’t think he assumed we all knew the rules; I think he just didn’t care that some of us, mainly the girls, had no clue how to play. How infuriating: reason number 5,397,942 to hate gym class and football.

Despite this incident, in adulthood I have actually come to like football in my own way. I am not a die hard fan of any particular team, although I do have an affinity for any team from Philadelphia. What got me interested was following various players, the first one being Donovan McNabb. I just enjoyed watching him play. I enjoyed hearing my dad talk about watching him play. By following McNabb and then other players across the years I got to the point where I could enjoy watching a football game if I felt like it. I even started playing fantasy football, which made it more interesting to watch a game featuring one or more of my players. I’ve never finished higher than third in any league I’ve played in, but I don’t care. I just enjoy playing and watching the games when I’m in the mood. When it is my choice to participate, I find that football can be enjoyable.

This year with the Philadelphia Eagles in the Super Bowl many of the people I work with are very excited about the game, especially those from South Jersey and Pennsylvania. It has actually been turned into a competition between the Philadelphia area churches and the Kansas City area churches: a food drive to see who can collect the most canned goods before game day. It is for a good cause and probably a better way to manage the competitive spirit than just trash talking each other. Nonetheless, the other day at work the staff was asked to participate in a video encouraging people to participate in the food drive. It quickly became a situation where everyone was going to be in this video; we weren’t being forced, but it was pretty clear we were all wanted in the video.

I knew it was ultimately for a good cause, but the moment that I felt I had to participate in the video I found myself adrift on an ocean of rage. Blinded by this sudden onset of anger, I sat in my friend’s office and flat out (and loudly) refused to join in. My co-worker asked me why not and I had no rational answer for her so I simply said, “Because I don’t care.”

For the record, I do care that there are people going hungry. That is horrible, especially in a country where we throw away about 40% of the food supply. What I was saying was that I didn’t care about the competition and I didn’t care about the Super Bowl because I was feeling forced into pretending like I gave a damn. The whole thing brought me back to that moment in gym class, forced to play a game I didn’t know how to play and ending up yelled at and embarrassed.

Left to my own devices I will participate in this year’s Super Bowl in the following manner: I will wear my Philadelphia Eagles shirt. I will probably buy some food that resembles the appetizers one might eat at a Super Bowl party. I will keep an eye on the score, but not actually watch the game because to be honest I’d rather just watch the highlights after the fact. I will probably be asleep before the game is over. And I will be content no matter which team wins because while I am biologically connected to Philadelphia through my father’s side of the family and I want the Eagles to win, I also really like Andy Reid and Patrick Mahomes, so I would be okay if they won too.

That is how I choose to engage in the biggest football game of the season. I will not be judged for this choice, just I will not judge anyone else for how they choose to enjoy (or ignore) the game. Football is a choice. It is not a game you have to know how to play just because it’s on television a lot. It is not a thing you have to pretend to understand to get a boy (or anyone) to like you. It is a game, plain and simple. Watch it or don’t, it’s your call.

All that being said, go Eagles.