College football is an oddly pagan experience. Almost every Saturday, tens of thousands of people fill up a giant stadium for several hours in order to watch two groups of men beat one another up to gain possession of a ball that is ostensibly made of a pig’s skin. On the sidelines, women dance suggestively, people prance around in animal costumes and hundreds of musicians bang on drums and blow horns in support of the whole affair.
Oh, how I love it.
More and more it seems as if football is one of our last unifying cultural institutions. Sure, we’ve got movies, TV and religion, but nothing gets people out of their houses and into the rain and cold like a game of football. For proof, all you have to do is drive down I-5 on a Saturday. Those hundreds of cars aren’t full of people going to church, and they aren’t all going to see “Madagascar: Escape 2 Africa” either. No, they’re going to jostle into an uncomfortable seat, eat overpriced food, and take part in the common goal of yelling until their team wins.
However, as a member of the Oregon Marching Band, I’ve been to every home game for the past two seasons, and if I’ve learned anything, it’s that some of our devoted fans, most of whom can be found in the student section, are more devoted to making fools of themselves than they are to the sport of football. Don’t get me wrong, the majority of the fans I see in the student section are dedicated to the game and support of the team; whether they’re drunk at the time or not doesn’t necessarily change that. But I’ve noticed a few things happening during the games that I consider unacceptable when compared to the general drunken debauchery of an Oregon home game.
I think the Pacific-10 Conference has some of the worst referees in the country. In both football and basketball, I’ve routinely watched them make ludicrous and biased calls, time and again, and I’ve never hesitated to shout my opinions about their officiating ability at them in the wake of these errors. I consider it deconstructive criticism. But on the occasion a call against my team is justified, I sit on my hands, because for once the refs are actually doing their jobs right. This is why I’m dismayed to hear the crowd booing refs for making legitimate calls against the Ducks – no team plays perfectly, so don’t act like ours does.
Even so, I suppose I can understand the overzealous booing of the referees; after all, we’re eager to support our team. But if that’s the case, what I can’t understand is why the fans start to file out of the stadium once it becomes clear the game is, for all intents and purposes, over. Supporting your team is about being there for them until the end, win or lose, rain or shine. That’s what makes the game exciting: knowing that, should we lose, you will face an embarrassing walk past the other team’s jubilant fans, but that, if we win, the subsequent gloating will be all the sweeter for your dedication.
What is most appalling and unacceptable is when I see our fans booing our team for fumbles or poorly executed plays. If you want to boo the refs unilaterally, great. If you want to leave early, there’s nothing stopping you. But if you see your own team falter on the field and start booing them for it in the time they most need your support, you should seriously reconsider your motives for going to the football game in the first place. To boo your own team in their home stadium doesn’t just make you look like a two-faced idiot, it makes all of us look like two-faced idiots.
So yes, football is a bit paganistic. But that’s no reason to be a savage.
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