I’m still on the fence about professional football; my interest in it has declined greatly over the last several years because of how it facilitates collectivism, and education institutions supported by left-winged radicals. Football is a fun game that is cool, yet serves as a cover for the content being taught in these institutions, and the general collectivism exhibited by them. For instance, a graduate of Ohio State University generally says “we” when referring to the school they attended—and they do this in the same way that people say “we” when referring to their favorite sports team. “We scored a touchdown in the third quarter,” or “we lost a close game,” are just a few examples, and the behavior is learned in the education institutions. Because of its “coolness” football serves as cover for all the bad things happening in the class rooms being taught by liberal leaning educators. Society accepts the bad so that they can have the good, the entertainment of high school football under the Friday night lights, or a Saturday NCAA game between Ohio State and Michigan, or the fabulous Sunday afternoon football of the professionals—who are all the best and brightest of the college and high school players.
To compound matters, my favorite team the Tampa Bay Buccaneers have had a bad year—a new coach learning his way around the NFL has struggled to find his niche as he pushes out the last remnants of the Raheem Morris era—targeting specifically Josh Freeman—the starting quarterback. So there hasn’t been much to cheer for on my end, however, as I’ve stated emphatically on several occasions I would be a fan of the Buccaneers if they never won another game—because I support the ownership—not specific players and coaches. I support the culture that the Glazer family attempts to create around their Tampa football franchise, and admire the grit of their ownership.
This grit was on full display during Monday Night Football against the embittered Miami Dolphins on the night Warren Sapp’s jersey was retired at half time. Sapp was drafted by my favorite coach of all time, Sam Wyche who also drafted John Lynch and Derrick Brooks—three guys who could have only found themselves brought to the same place at the same time by someone like Wyche. Since that period of time, Tampa has tried to duplicate that chemistry again, and have relentlessly tried various options trying to find that same intense spark. They have had some small fires, but no explosions they way they did in 2002 when they finally won a Superbowl by the team that Wyche built-in 1995. Wyche was at the front of Pirsig’s train. Up until that Monday Night game the Bucs had lost all their games, most of them by narrow margins, but a loss is a loss and they were looking for their first. They played with a passion that was entertaining, and admirable and reminded me why I have always loved that team—they have a never say die attitude which I find enchanting—even when they lose. That mentality comes from the ownership.
I would rather be a fan of the Tampa Bay Buccaneers who lose every game they play so long as they played like they did on Monday Night Football the night that Warren Sapp’s number was retired. If they lose, it’s OK with me so long as they take off their rivals head while doing it. That is why I like the Bucs—and always have. It will continue as long as the Glazers keep the spirit of that team with a philosophy which embodies that behavior.
Maybe it was something Sapp said to Greg Schiano the head coach of the Bucs prior to the game when the two had dinner, but on the following Sunday Tampa beat the crap out of the Atlanta Falcons with an effort that looked Superbowl worthy. Football is that kind of game; it’s a game of capitalism that has many socialist tendencies looting off it for their own survival. I love the capitalist elements of football, but I despise the socialism. And of all the football teams in the world the only one I actually enjoy with any sense of loyalty is the Tampa Bay Buccaneers.
But I never say “we” when referencing the Bucs………….it’s always “they.” They do the work, they do the hitting, they take the chances, and they win or lose the games. I do not share in that activity with them. I simply enjoy watching them try. And that is the biggest difference between how I see football, and most everyone else. For those others, they have an unhealthy relationship with football that opens their minds to statism coming through their education institutions that cause them to say “we” when dealing with the actions of others. When the word “we” comes into play, football is a bad thing—because it allows those who do not actually contribute to the victory to believe that they helped win a game—and that is socialism.
When the beer belly father cheers on the kids of a high school football team, generally such onlookers are reliving the days that have passed them by—with their advanced ages they can no longer run, jump and leap through the air—so they cheer on the young little saplings with great enthusiasm and say “we” because that is the only way they can touch such memories—is through others. When the middle-aged guy makes a bet over a college football game with his cubical all decked out with paraphernalia of his alumnus and declares that “we” will bet “you,” he is living his life through the college students of that college team with a dangerous form of collectivism. His most glorious days are now behind him and only the college football team can recapture them for him. Or when there are drunken fights at a professional game over whose team wins or loses, the participants are really fighting over the lack of control the team outcome has reminded them really occurs in their actual lives. So the reminder is something to fight over—to suppress the knowledge that all their cheering and prayers had no bearing on the outcome. I don’t watch the Tampa Bay Bucs for any of these reasons. I watch it for the warfare displayed on the game field; I watch it for the capitalist gains of better players suppressing those at a tactical disadvantage. I watch it for the hard hits, the strategy, and the passion of winning—or trying to. I watch it for the spectacle……..purely. In that regard, Tampa could lose the rest of its games for the next 10 years and I would still be a fan so long as they played the way they did on Monday Night Football on a November evening when Sapp was memorialized and the Bucs won their first game of 2013. If it were the last, it would be fine with me, because my love of them extends beyond any tentacles of collectivism, but the joy of living, bleeding, fighting and surviving to fight another day and wrestle from an opponent a hard-fought victory that is as elusive as a purple moon in a sun blazed sky.