Heresy (Part 3 of 3)

This is the final part of a three-part series from guest contributor Pat Downes on the superiority of college football to pro football. To read the first part, “History,” click here. To read the second part, “Variety,” click here.

Passion

College football is obviously more colorful than pro football. College football has mascots and marching bands. Fight songs and pep rallies. Every team – every single team – has unique traditions surrounding the game that border on the sacred. Dotting the “i” at Ohio State. Yell Leaders at Texas A&M. Hook ’em Horns and the Gator Chomp. Howard’s Rock and the House that Rock Built. Outside of JerryWorld (and I would argue that Dallas’s traditions are mostly contrived), pro football does not have nearly as much color.

But this is mere pageantry. Pageantry is merely one tangible expression of something much deeper – passion. Passion is a feeling. It is the deep, almost familial connection that the fan feels for his or her team. Pro football fans may have passion for their teams, but they don’t – really, they can’t – feel it as deeply as college football fans.

In the first installment of this series, I argued that college football was superior to pro football because of its history. College football’s immense popularity going back for decades and centuries, and the legends and stories that originated throughout those years, form a thread in the narrative of today’s games, which enable us to share an experience with ancestors that we never knew.

In part two, I argued that college football’s variety, which derives in part from the diversity of the institutions playing the game, makes college football superior. College teams are unique, local institutions that communities take pride in. Pro franchises, on the other hand, are like bland, cookie-cutter chain stores.

In a way, passion is a by-product of history and variety. College football fans feel a connection to our team’s legends and heroes from ages past. And we feel connected to our teams as representatives of unique, local institutions, with fundamental missions that are more meaningful than simply winning a division and making a nice run in the playoffs.

Those connections extend beyond the teams’ geographical and alumni bases. Teams like BYU and Notre Dame have religious identities that inspire national followings in certain religious or ethnic communities. Army, Navy and Air Force inspire followings within the military, and among the broad segment of the population that admire the commitment to country made by those teams’ players and their classmates. In some parts of the country without the population base to support a pro franchise (or any other institutions of cultural significance) – for example, Alabama, Nebraska, and recently, Boise, Idaho – college football teams serve as focal points for the development of regional identity, and inspire deeply passionate followings.

In addition to all of this, different schools stand for different things. Some institutions, unfortunately, stand for the uglier side of sports; for cheating and criminality, for corruption and exploitation. On the other hand, teams like Notre Dame and Stanford, at their best, stand for a combination of athletic and academic excellence, and for managing their teams ethically. Other institutions, like many state schools and the teams in the MEAC, pride themselves on providing opportunities for underprivileged students, or students from racial or ethnic communities who did not have such opportunities in years past.

The NFL has none of this. Sure, it has fans. Maybe it even has fans who can be described, in a narrow sense, as passionate. They follow their team religiously. They live and die by the win-loss record. And I say this not to denigrate the depth of their feeling, but, really, what is that NFL passion based on? Maybe – at best – that passion is based on fond memories of a parent who was a fan. But usually it’s based on little more than geography. Very few folks outside of Seattle have any affinity for the Seahawks. Unless your dear, departed father was a Seattle native (or your last name is Hasselbeck), there’s nothing unique about the Seahawks that would attract any sort of following outside of Washington state.

What are the monumental stories and legends of the Seahawks’ history? Who are the mist-shrouded demigods and heroes of Seahawks’ lore? What unique characteristics do the Seahawks have that make them more worthy of your attention than any other franchise? More importantly, what do the Seahawks stand for? It sounds silly to even ask these questions of most pro franchises.

I understand that there are people out there who love the NFL, and never really had any reason to follow college football. If you’re one of these people, that’s ok. It’s not a mark of poor character, or an indication that you’re lacking in any way.

But you are missing something.

Maybe, if you’re lucky, the ongoing collective bargaining negotiations in the NFL will blow up, and you’ll be able to focus your full attention next year on the greatest, purest expression of the world’s best game: college football.