Football is violent by nature. America knows this and reacts by making it the most popular sport in the country. There’s something pure about this game of padded, gridiron gladiators that allows us to accept and revel in the violence.
We know what it’s about. We know the players are a little bit loony. But when players in the NFL are overdosing on prescription pills and stomping on people’s faces, we can do without. When we see helmets swung and group stomp-sessions in a college football game, we cringe. We’re squeamish when we notice that D.C. high school football star Pat Lazear is both an armed robbery suspect and team captain until his trial in late November.
I’ve given up. I’m now a devoted fan of a new league.
It’s a league where the players aren’t paid a cent. They have no agents, no crooked boosters and no endorsement deals. They play because they want to. They have no families to feed and no draft status to worry about. Their biggest concern is scraping a knee, or worse yet, ripping their game-day Dockers.
This is a league where they play five days a week and never wear the field down. They always play until the whistle. Of course, there’s only one. It signals the end of recess.
There’s no T.O.s in this league. The receivers here all run the same route on every play. Run. Stop. Turn. Scream at the quarterback. And in this league, every receiver is always open. But even if they don’t get their hands on the pigskin, you won’t catch them cursing out their coaches on the sidelines.
In fact, there are no sidelines. Sidewalks, yes. But everyone here plays on both sides of the ball for as long as they want. These are true athletes in every sense. Especially when you consider they make most of their jukes and spins as they bust out of penny loafers and Dr. Martens. Rolling ankles could be a problem. You know mom doesn’t want you spatting up those kicks.
Who knows, though? Mom could even be an alum of this league. No sexism here. Girls play all the time. And not only are they allowed; they quarterback their teams to playground glory. Parents need not worry about their budding stars going under center: there’s no offensive line. Need a solid block? Dart behind a Caddy!
The football IQ of the players is downright astonishing. You think after all those concussions Brett Favre could keep track of dozens of teammates, all wearing the same navy blue polo-shirt uniform? You better think again.
There’s never a flag for too many men on the field. Players come and go in the game as they wish. And on top of that, there’s no trading deadline. So don’t come into this league expecting the parody of the NFL or the emergence of a dynasty like USC.
Players in this league can be a foot taller than and twice as wide as their opponents. But the only kind of juice you’ll find in these players’ lockers is Hi-C.
In this league, both teams are always at home: N Street between Georgetown’s Nevils apartments and the Nativity Catholic Academy School. For the purest brand of football, there isn’t a better place to be.
