You know the vibe: it’s not a tailgate filled with frozen fans and chaotic brawls, but it’s undeniably a Football Party celebrating The Game. Inside this gathering are die-hard fans of the Patriots, some casual supporters of the Seahawks, and a few adults who root against the Pats simply by default.
Among the attendees, there are fathers who played sports in college, now working as lawyers, editors, filmmakers, and bankers. The mothers boast a diverse array of careers, including designers, artists, and writers. My husband, a magazine editor, is a kind and gentle soul who paradoxically revels in the harsh brutality of football. He harbors a deep disdain for his beloved Redskins’ owner, who refuses to change the team’s offensive name. Yet, he still finds himself yelling at the screen when “the Washington football team,” as he now calls them, fumbles. His mood is noticeably affected by their losses, but not so much that it would invite ridicule from anyone—except maybe from me.
Most of the women and men at this gathering are football fans. I grew up with the sport, and it has long been a source of enjoyment for my own soft-hearted father, a Jets fan who has learned to appreciate the game as best as he can. For me, the sound of football has always been captivating. Now, as my husband and our two sons, aged 9 and 10, sit glued to the couch, I’m reminded of the soothing timbre of Cris Collinsworth and the echoing mic of the referee. In my childhood, John Madden’s voice was like a warm blanket.
However, a common thread among the party guests—regardless of their interest in the game—will be their decision not to let their children play football. Naturally, that would be out of the question! Sure, some boys opt for flag football if they aren’t keen on soccer and need an autumn pastime. But flag football bears little resemblance to tackle football; it seems more about speed than strength, with less emphasis on physicality. In fact, soccer and basketball can offer more intense collisions.
The young boys at this Super Bowl gathering, enthusiastically munching on chips and discussing stats in an endless loop, likely won’t ever step foot on a real football field. If they’ve played tackle football at all, they probably quit as soon as the risk of serious injury loomed large. This shift stems from various reasons: regional differences (my state is notably blue with no Friday night lights), natural disinterest in the sport, and most significantly, parental disapproval. While mothers historically took the lead on this issue, fathers have increasingly joined in on the decision to keep the game off the table for their sons.
Recent revelations about the NFL have made waves. Even my sports-obsessed husband recently edited a news-making profile on Roger Goodell, raising questions about the game’s future popularity. Scandals involving players like Ray Rice and Adrian Peterson have created a collective awareness around the violence embedded in football, leading to concerns about the long-term effects, particularly for those who begin tackling before age 12. The risks include concussions, dementia, domestic violence, depression, and even suicide as a result of repeated trauma to the brain.
Despite these issues, the game seems to be weathering the storm—revenue, viewership, and the clout of the NFL remain strong. However, a more subtle erosion of football’s appeal may be taking place. A Bloomberg Politics poll indicates that HALF of American parents would not allow their sons to play the sport.
This thought will linger in my mind on Super Bowl Sunday, as it will for many others. I’ll try to avoid turning my friend’s Super Bowl gathering into a political debate—after all, who wants a Debbie Downer hovering near the snacks? But the temptation will be there, nagging at me to point out that none of the boys present will actually play the game that their fathers hold dear, yet find increasingly difficult to defend.
How long can we enjoy knowing what we know about football, recognizing that it seems to have become a game designated for other people’s children, while we indulge in its spectacle? I won’t mention how the intersection of profit and negligence toward health—along with the demographics of who benefits from this lucrative industry—reminds me of the disparities in who serves in our military. There’s no need to voice these thoughts; the attendees are already aware.
In a world of complexities surrounding sports and parenting, understanding the implications of our choices is essential. If you’re exploring options for home insemination, check out this link for insights into the process. For those curious about the journey to conception, this resource can offer valuable guidance. Additionally, the Fertility Center at Johns Hopkins is an excellent source for information about pregnancy and home insemination.
In summary, while the Super Bowl is an event filled with excitement and camaraderie, it also raises questions about the future of football as we know it, particularly when it comes to the decisions parents are making for their children.