As President Barack Obama and House Speaker John Boehner lock horns like rhinos in mating season, the word “indivisible” no longer seems to have a place in the Pledge of Allegiance. With a government seemingly hell-bent on implosion, it begs the question: What’s left holding America together?
In a word, football. In the absence of leadership from the clowns in Congress, the only traces of teamwork, discipline, passion, self-sacrifice and work ethic are seen in tussles for the pigskin. More gusto is displayed by Pat Fitzgerald in one quarter than by the Senate in an entire year.
Imagine there’s no football. It isn’t easy if you try.
Imagine having to spend a freezing Sunday afternoon in December with only “The Price is Right” on in the background. Think about not having a football game to sneak away to on Thanksgiving and actually having to talk to your overly touchy great aunt after she’s had a few spiked apple ciders. Try to visualize sitting in a two-hour statistics lecture without applying your practical knowledge of the discipline to set your fantasy lineup for the week.
Take a moment to fathom for a minute the American high school system trying to teach social studies and race relations without “Remember the Titans.” I know I can’t.
Though the impact of the shutdown on honest, hardworking Americans cannot be understated, it is quite possible that more Americans would be bothered by a shutdown of the National Football League than a closure of the national government. The populace has reacted with shocking ambivalence to the closure of our government but seemed primed for revolution when, in 1968, NBC interrupted the broadcast of a Jets-Raiders game to air a television film called “Heidi.” The power of sport to rescue societies from their deepest doldrums transcends anything that happens on the field. In 1938, our nation, buckling under the full weight of the Great Depression, found hope in Seabiscuit, a small chestnut colt with a giant heart. On September 21, 2001, the Mets played the Braves at Shea Stadium, the first professional sporting event held in New York after the tragic attacks of 9/11. In the eighth inning, Mike Piazza hit a towering home run that put the Mets ahead and brought a wounded city roaring back to its feet.
Columnist Joel Sherman of the New York Post quipped that “in what has been a terrible period, this was terrific symbolism, as well. That of normalcy.” In a time when the front pages of The New York Times and CNN look like Onion headlines, the sight of cornholes in stadium parking lots reminds us that our nation is still the same America we grew up in.
From U.S. Sen. Ted Cruz’s (R-Texas) affinity for White Castle burgers to the Obama-Boehner pecs-measuring contest playing out on Capitol Hill, the past few days have seen the United States of America at its very worst. From halftime shows to backyard bratwursts, sousaphones to answered Hail Marys, Saturday will be America at its very best. Inside Ryan Field, 50,000 people will stand in a special solidarity only football can provide, clad in different colors but united by the cardiac discomfort felt each time the ball is snapped.
For three hours, nothing in our lives will matter except the inch that separates fourth from first down.
In times of difficulty, our nation has turned to the strength of faith, family, friends, arts and music to — as Bob Dylan says — “let (us) forget about today until tomorrow.” This weekend, we turn to football. Unlike our elected officials, I know it will not let us down.
Mike Mallazzo is a Medill senior. He can be reached at [email protected]. If you would like to respond publicly to this letter, send a Letter to the Editor to [email protected].
