The title above is what was written on my digital tickets for the event. The venue was the elegantly named M&T Bank Stadium. I could write a whole post about what I think about corporate naming of public venues. I was blown away to learn recently that Times Square in NYC has been named Longacre Square but then the New York Times built their headquarters building there which they cleverly named “Times Building” and very badly needed an address to match, so Longacre was changed to Times and they counted their building as address #1. Very humble indeed.
This post is about American football. I’ve been to 3 games to date. I went to a pre-season New England Patriots game 16 years ago, I went to a Baltimore Ravens game 5 years ago and last night I went to a playoffs game, which I believe is post season? To be honest. I’m not a sports person. It amazes me that capable people watch other capable people play games for entertainment. I try to make an exception for rare events, and for seeing sports in person, because spectating is sort of a sport in itself and if you’re like the gentleman in front of me last night who spent most time trying to get back to his seat from stadium security because when he was at his seat he had to scream “Pittsburgh fucking sucks! Steelers are losers! You’re a fucking looooooser!” to a quiet gentleman wearing a winter cap with the opposing teams logo registered all over its surface, you take spectating not only seriously as a sport, but also as an art form.
So I’ve been to these three games. This one I was on time for, in fact we were multiple hours early. I purchased ridiculously close seats to the field, third row. I say close and not good, because I’m not sure what type of person could even describe what “good” means in this sort of environment. The people around me did not sit. The entire section of seats did not sit, for 5 hours, we stood, overlapping in proximity, strangers drunkenly and incidentally huddled for warmth, with only the 30 degree air and the occasional beer flying from a mittened hand, splattering against all who are unsuspecting.
This morning when I woke up, I told my partner that football was a spectacle, that it would be the only way to describe what I had seen. My partner called it pageantry. Technically, it is probably an “extravaganza” which would be a hybrid of both words meaning an elaborate visual display or ceremony. Except it isn’t only visual. It is a bombardment of many senses, eyes, ears, touch, taste, dignity, safety, etc. To be honest, the food was the only dull element to the evening. Beer, hot dogs, crab cakes (Maryland), chicken fingers, Dippin Dots, it’s the same basic food as any event.
The event is fuel for plebians. The common man. The target audience of this event, was definitely the lowest common denominator of humankind. My partner disagreed thinking maybe its aim was for another type of mammal. I think dogs would hate the crowds and certainly the fireworks, but if we’re talking about a chimpanzee or maybe a crow (go Ravens!) she might be on point.
The event is saturated with corporate sponsorship, advertisements of all sorts and propaganda. Moments for the military, firefighters, police, security guards. Chants based around Under Armour clothing and Ford F150 trucks, alcohol, American and Maryland flags, if there are proponents trying to mold minds, they were present and the minds were fully in the molds already. People were into it. People screaming fuck Pittsburgh. I’ve lived in Baltimore for over a decade and Pittsburgh is a lovely four hour drive with beautiful scenery and delicious perogies. Their football team, doing the same exact work that ours was, except these people had traveled all the way to visit ours, spend their tourist bucks, to have people scream “fuck you loser!” directly into their face and the game hadn’t even begun. It’s not that it’s upsetting to me I love a good public outburst, just the people doing it seemed more respectable than me, and delivered it for far less cause than what I would reserve my own outrage for.
The cheerleaders, the announcer, the enormous LED screens in all directions. Digital rings of fire occasionally wrapping the entire stadium in wrap around screens. The digital crows flying through animated cubes of debris, what is it? Why is it so enormous. The theme of intimidation. A hundred people with cameras running, sitting, leaning, crouching, in every direction. The brief interruptions of royalty heavy samples of familiar music used to fuel chante. The noise meter. Fireworks. The “Celebrity Band” for half time (All Time Low if you know them) playing from what I can, mostly covers of bigger celebrity bands. Two Chains (celebrity rapper) was there and spoke to the giant Orwellian screen, not sure if he could be heard on television in person there was only music. The Marching Ravens band, again, drowned out over other music and people scream “fuck the Steelers!”. A “realty tv star” from the tv show The Bachelor and one from the competing reality tv show “Love is Blind” both introduced to the deafness of the arena. A woman came out of the smoke of an evil looking Ravens tunnel, the same one the athletes emerged from, playing a violin over heavy metal. (My favorite part of the evening). Later a mysterious celebrity from the same tunnel, maybe a former Raven player, maybe a celebrity? Maybe Nelly himself since he emerged to the song “Hot in Herre”. I have no idea, regular announcements or music didn’t allow his sound in. Maybe for the home viewer.
The lights constantly dimmed, went, out, flashed. The music and announcements were non stop. Very little seemed synchronized to the action on the field. Often I was being distracted with laser lights and music only to look up to find I had missed half of the play. The giant screens which show the action up close of your angle or distance is bad, even they seemed to miss the tracking of the game over the other show elements. More than once I noticed the scoreboard was not even accurate or current only to be corrected minutes after the error was spotted. It’s just so much it’s impossible to track. If this was a dish, prepared by a master chef, at the request of the NFL lords, it would certainly be a beer battered and fried pizza, covered in hot dogs, cake, and ice cream. Being Maryland, it would have been Smith Island cake.
This over abundance of everything, truly, is overwhelming to anyone who would stop to analyze the situation. People often speak of Caeser and the Gladiators of the Colosseum when they speak of American sports. Often talking of the bread and circus and the pleasing of the crowds to keep Americans blind to politics. This was that and a million other basic tricks of simple pleasure and mind control. So obviously presented that people don’t just embrace, but crave it. I would call it perfected but it was all so stupid. Fuel for plebians.
We had a great time.
Go Ravens!
(Editor’s note: the violinist was Lindsey Sterling https://youtu.be/aHjpOzsQ9YI?si=3f3Thtif1P0BhyjG, the gentleman who came out to “Hot in Heree” was none other than Ray Lewis)