A dissenting reader, Alex, pushes back on most of the readers who have written in so far:
Like many football fans, I’m often conflicted about following the sport. Many of the concerns raised by your readers are valid, but I think it's important to put them in the proper context. In many cases, troubling high-profile incidents have been turned into anecdotal evidence of a problem not supported by data.
For example, as your readers detailed, one of the recurring issues is the head trauma that players are subjected to and the league’s head-in-the-sand approach to safety concerns. Indeed, several players have retired early rather than risk the ravages of CTE [chronic traumatic encephalopathy].
But what most people don’t know is that—despite a higher rate of neurodegenerative diseases—NFL players have longer lifespans on average than the general population. They even commit suicide at a lower rate. So the notion that players are “killing themselves for our entertainment” is not statistically true. At best, one could argue that players are putting themselves at risk for some future health issues while also improving other factors (fitness and wealth) that correlate strongly with longevity.
Another argument echoed by your readers is that watching the NFL makes one complicit with a league full of domestic and sexual abusers who have faced little to no consequences for their actions. Indeed, the league’s approach to cases like Ray Rice and Greg Hardy has been abysmal—and the NFL’s “No More” awareness campaign on the issue reeks of a CYA [cover your ass] public relations move. But for all the NFL’s failures on the issue, its players are still less likely to be arrested for domestic violence and sex offenses than males of the same age.
Again, this is a case of high-profile events being conflated with hard numbers. When an NFL player commits suicide or assaults a partner, it invariably makes the news—and the fallout of the league’s response can carry on for weeks or months. When a non-famous person does the same, we rarely hear about it. And so our confirmation bias leads us to believe players are disproportionately abusive and more likely to be suicidal.
The public financing of stadiums is another of the NFL’s black eyes. And there’s no way to describe it other than borderline extortion of taxpayers. But consider how many other industries would push for that free money if given the leverage the NFL has. We’ve seen it in every other major sport as well, so if that’s your reason for quitting football, you’ll have to cross basketball, baseball, and hockey off your list as well. Oh, and forget about the World Cup, which has been beset by billion-dollar bribery allegations and built by slave labor in dangerous conditions that may cost thousands of lives.
None of this is to say football doesn’t have real issues or pretend the NFL is the moral paragon of American industry. “It’s not as bad as it seems” and “It could be worse” are not compelling defenses. I’m sure a lot of fans, like me, make these rationalizations to justify our continued enjoyment of the sport. Others have found it easier to give it up. For some people, football is a former player dealing with memory loss or an abusive player given a pass because of his ability. For others, it’s making a stand for social justice or a star visiting a sick kid in the hospital [similar to the video embedded above]. There’s just no way to put the actions of every owner, coach and player on an ethical balance scale. Remaining a fan can be seen as a question of morality, but so can shopping at Wal-Mart.
Ultimately, I’ll remain a fan because I’ve already put decades of emotional investment into my team—and it would kill me if they finally won a Super Bowl after I stopped watching. I’ll keep watching because of my nostalgia over all the games I watched with my family, and because it’s a conversation starter when I call home. I’ll stick around because I need to defend my championship in my office fantasy league.
That doesn’t mean I won’t still have qualms about the sport. Other people’s qualms may cause them to quit, and as long as they’re based on data rather than misperceptions, that’s fine too.
Do you agree with Alex? Is it fair to single out the NFL? Or are its problems still enough to give up on the league? Let us know: hello@theatlantic.com. Update from a reader, Ian:
I understand Alex’s letter about relatively low rates of domestic abuse, but there are other factors to consider. The FiveThirtyEight piece cited seemed to compare NFL players to the general population, which might skew the data. A more apt comparison might be people around the same age and same relative wealth. NFL players are significantly more wealthy than the general population and have more resources to prevent arrest.
Qualitatively, there are instances where NFL teams have stepped in to prevent charges from being filed. It’s hard to tell how common this practice is, but the issue indicates that lower-than-average domestic abuse numbers might come from some teams protecting their players.
A surprising name came up in conversation earlier this year in Miami. Just before President Obama visited Cuba in March, I headed down to Florida to see how Cuban Americans felt about the normalizing relations between the two countries. For some, it was impossible for them to move on from the traumatic experience of fleeing their home country, forced to relocate to the U.S. after a new communist government seized their parents’ businesses and threatened their families. But for others, they are ready to look ahead to a new era.
One of those Cuban-Americans was Mike Fernandez, a billionaire who has become a leading national voice in ending the embargo, frequently meeting with Washington lawmakers. Fernandez, speaking to me at his home in Coral Gables, said that one of the people who inspired him to forgive Fidel and Raul Castro and move forward with peace was Shimon Peres, the Israeli president and Nobel Prize winner.
It was a detail that I did not include in my original article, but one that feels more relevant than ever. With news last night that Peres has passed away, I asked Fernandez about his friend and what he meant for this new era in U.S.-Cuba relations. He writes:
Shimon Peres is a world leader I have admired and respected for decades. It’s an odd friendship we made, as I am neither an Israeli citizen nor a man of Jewish faith, but we met by way of a mutual friend many years ago.
I was in love with his mind the night we met, sitting side by side at my friend’s home. The elder statesman spoke to me with gracious and powerful words about saving children’s lives. “Where in Israel are these children?” I asked. He smiled and said, “I speak of Palestinian children.” He had my attention. He was a maestro of peace and unity.
As the years passed, I learned more about him, always in private and always in his somber, low-toned voice. In one occasion, he asked me where in Cuba I was born. I was shocked to hear him say, “I know where Manzanillo is at.” How could he possibly know? So I asked. With effort he leaned back and further sank in his chair and told me, “In 1947 or ’48, we needed weapons for Israel and we were buying them from anywhere we could. One place was Cuba. I remember being in a ship going to buy whatever we could and we could either drop anchor near Holguin on Cuba’s northern coast or Manzanillo on the southern coast. We chose the northern coast.” Little did I know.
Last year, I visited with him in May. Our conversation turned, as it often had, to Cuba. I asked him, “Mr. President, would you consider joining an effort to help Cubans reconcile on both sides of the Florida Straits?” He almost jumped out of the chair in excitement. “I would love to,” he said. At 92, the idea of putting his energy at work on an issue of peace made him grin.
Within a few minutes, there were half-a-dozen people in his office, planning a strategy. He then turned to me and said, “But it can’t be done if there is no forgiveness. Have you forgiven and can both groups move on? If you are focused on the past, you will not succeed. There will be no future.”
Today, I have forgiven. Not all have, but many more have crossed that line because an Israeli president instructed a Cuban friend.
So far, in our wide-ranging discussion over the state of the NFL and football fandom in general, readers have gone after brain injuries, domestic and sexual violence, and the league’s corporate greed. But many former fans have left the game for a smattering of other reasons, from faux-patriotism to just a malaise for the NFL. Here’s Dave to begin our long list:
I just finished reading your introductory note “Are You No Longer a NFL Fan?” and I am indeed one of your readers that has lost interest in the game. I grew up a passionate fan and have fond memories of cheering for the Buffalo Bills with my family. While one might argue that my waning interest could be a result of the Bills 25+ years of mediocrity, I think it is much more than that. As you point out, the barbarism inherent in the sport and the failure of the NFL to adapt the game to account for brain damage research is deplorable and disgusting.
There are other issues that I find offensive as well. Personally, I think it is gross the way that militarism, patriotism and heroism are all cozy bedfellows with the NFL, the NFL telecasts, and the promotion of each team’s brand. These things do not belong together. Military ceremony, jet fly-overs and overt use of American symbology in the NFL game cheapens true patriotism and heroism.
Most importantly, I believe it carries the implication that the violence, force, and the untempered emotional support inherent in the game are necessary components of patriotism. This is dangerous and misguided.
Mike, a U.S. military vet, has noticed his interest in the NFL wane over time:
A handful of years ago, I was deployed to Afghanistan. I sacrificed most of my sleep by waking up at 2:30 a.m. to watch the Super Bowl between two teams I didn’t cheer for whatsoever (Ravens v. 49ers). I could name most of the starters for each team. I guess you could say I was a big NFL fan then.
Last night, I went to a sports bar to get dinner. The bar had the Steelers v. Redskins game on. I couldn’t tell you who any of the players on either team were except for the starting QBs. I guess you could say I’m not a big NFL fan now.
Doug has also noticed the revolving door of players:
I used to enjoy a range of college and professional sports, including football. Several years back, it dawned on me that I was watching a group of workers doing work. They were employees doing a job—nothing more, nothing less. They weren’t “MY TOWN’S TEAM”; they go where the money is and work for whomever will pay them the most, and get dropped by their employer the instant the ROI flips. I’m fine with that, but it sort of took the core out of watching the game.
Nick is sick of how the sport is packaged these days:
Fewer games are broadcast on TV; you’re forced to buy the NFL package, ESPN, or NFL Network to watch them. As a cord cutter, I watch what is broadcast, nothing more.
Robert is “about 80 percent done with the NFL”:
Yes I am less of a fan today, mainly because like many things today, Social Media has ruined the escape from work, money worries, family dynamics, etc, etc.
Football has always been a pleasant diversion—not an escape. It’s a break, an interlude between the challenges of life, and entertainment I could enjoy with my sons.
Not anymore. There’s too much football on TV. We know too much about the players, coaches, players’ wives, general managers. Players tweet and post on Instagram and Facebook. I don’t want to know what players and GMs think of politics or the economy; I want to watch the sport. I don’t want to wonder if the kicker for the Eagles beat his wife again, or if some backup QB is cleared to play after his DUI arrest. I have enough drama in my own life. I don’t care about others’ self-inflicted drama.
Bruce’s beef with pro football is specific to Redskins drama:
Your discussion really strikes a cord with me. I, too, have a low-grade, gnawing, general revulsion for football this fall. I’ve been a Washington Redskins fan for 45 years and have always admired the game. I have wonderful, cherished memories of going to RFK with my father. But Dan Snyder’s refusal to consider changing the racially charged team name shocks me, in the same way that the harsh reaction to Colin Kaepernick’s BLM protest does. I just can’t believe people have so little empathy for others.
Snyder knows that George Preston Marshall, the team’s racist owner who moved the Boston Braves to DC in the 1930s and was the last NFL owner to agree to integrate black players in the 1960s, chose the name as a joke. Yet Snyder remains committed to a version of the story that the name somehow honors Native Americans instead of insults them.
That, combined with new knowledge about the extent of CTE among former players, means that, as your friend says, “we are watching men get permanent brain damage for our enjoyment.” As you say, I probably won’t give up watching games all at once, but it’s third and long, and I’m not seeing a play in the playbook that will advance the chains.
Ed thinks the gameplay advances at a snail’s pace:
A Wall Street Journal study in 2010 determined that actual plays took a total of 11 minutes per game. I prefer to watch a rugby match, since it involves little downtime, or spend my time doing something else.
Charles went with soccer:
The reason I switched to English football was because I wasn’t getting blasted by commercials for 33 percent of the time. Also, soccer is two hours vs 3.5 hours for an NFL game. Most of NFL is standing around.
Bruce doesn’t like how the NFL overvalues quarterbacks:
I was a rabid Vikings fan from my youth in the ’70s through the heartbreaking 1998 season. At that point, I no longer liked how the game made me feel. A loss by my team was debilitating and winning streaks resulted in adrenaline filled obsession. It almost felt like a drug addiction.
I found that rule changes that favored passing over a more balanced attack created a ridiculous dynamic where a high quality QB was essential to success. It seems wrong that a game with 53 players would rely so heavily on one player. A torn ACL and the season was lost.
Roger also prefers an earlier era of the NFL:
The traumatic brain injuries are the worst, but the game in general has become irritating to watch. When I played, there was a brief offensive huddle while the defense leaned toward the captain who shouted a few words like “five three,” meaning line up with five linemen and three linebackers. Now, we are faced with two long huddles on either side of the ball, plus a referee huddle nearly every other play while they try to figure out why flags were thrown and what to do about it and how to explain it to the assembled multitude. This last huddle is not constrained by the 24-second clock.
I have a strong memory of the head ref in my day grabbing the QB by his shoulder pads because he was confused about accepting or rejecting a penalty. The ref screamed he was cutting into playing time and no further delay would be accepted. I think the QB had wasted about three seconds.
Finally, in a worthy effort to reduce injuries, the rules have become so complex as to be unenforcible in a consistent manner. Offensive pass interference is clear enough in the rule book, but watch how it is called or not called! In the interest of protecting the QB, intentional grounding went away, then came back with the addition of something having to do with the relationship between the QB and tackles, as if the guys in stripes could remember where the tackles, lined up after the ball is snapped and the 22-man melee begins.
I could go on, but the bottom line is that it is just not fun to watch any longer.
Readers defended the game here, and there are a few more defenses to come. Is there an issue that we’ve missed so far? Let us know: hello@theatlantic.com.
I wrote a post yesterday about the wildfire raging along California’s Big Sur coast that has surpassed the $200 million-mark to combat—and it’s only two-thirds contained. A reader in California, Christopher Baker, saw the fire when it started two months ago. He writes:
I saw your article and thought you’d find interesting the enclosed photo I took out the window of a Southwest flight on the evening of July 23 flying north from San Diego to San Francisco. It was extremely clear and I saw what I think is the first day of the fire out the window. The fire was very bright but still somewhat small, and I think I could see backfires started by the firefighters. It’s a remarkable sight because during my 50 years in California I’ve seen many brushfires from the air but never was the view this clear; normally they are obscured by the smoke.
At its peak last month, more than 5,600 firefighters were working to put out the blaze. It’s destroyed 57 homes and threatens another 400. And all of this because someone left a small campfire burning while visiting Garrapata State Park.
This is far from the only time when the NFL came at a big cost to taxpayers and an enormous gain for team owners. Many Atlantic readers are outraged by the trend, including Lori:
In addition to not caring for the safety of their players (in particular CTE [chronic traumatic encephalopathy]), and the NFL’s response, or lack thereof, to domestic abuse and sexual assault, let me add that I stopped watching football because of the greedy owners who cozied up to public officials and raided the coffers to build lavish new, mega stadiums at the expense of real public goods—parks, schools, safe roads and bridges, small business and entrepreneurial investments, clean water, and more.
Here’s Billy, a former Bears fan in Chicago:
The end of the NFL for me came when I read your article on how the NFL fleeces taxpayers [Gregg Easterbrook’s Atlantic essay, “How Taxpayers Keep the NFL Rich”]. My disgust started with the school systems of Chandler, AZ, and Cincinnati suffering so those municipalities can make their bond payments on stadiums that sit empty for 350 days a year. Then you read about all of the different “deals” owners cut with cities to get new stadiums paid for by anyone but themselves.
And if a city won’t pay, like a 3-year old, the owner takes their ball and threatens to run to another city (L.A. until the Rams absconded, now Vegas). Speaking of the Rams, how does the city of St. Louis feel as it watches in horror as the NFL has ripped their financial hearts out for the second time in the last 30 years?
As Bill Simmons said, billionaire owners can build their own fucking stadiums.
A reader in Cleveland, Mark, goes into much more detail about the stadium issue:
The main reason I have given up is that as much as I love the game of football, I cannot stomach the wretched excess that is the National Football League. I am very familiar with the struggles of my Cleveland Browns. I, however, feel that though the helmet and name is the same, these are not my Browns. They were given to us by the NFL who approved the old Browns’ move to Baltimore with little opposition.
I always use the analogy that the original Browns are our mom while the new Browns are the woman who married your father. They’ll never be “Mom.”
I am not blaming the NFL for the fact the team sucks. They have made bad decisions and had some bad luck. The Browns’ mistakes are their own. And compared to how the NFL has treated cities like Baltimore and St. Louis, we got off easy. But this is not the litany of an unhappy Browns fan.
Specifically, my main issue with the NFL is their frequent and repeated habit of holding cities ransom for new stadiums. Trust me, cities like Cleveland cannot economically justify having a professional football stadium when their schools are struggling and their infrastructure needs attention. Yet time after time, elected officials and voters are forced to prioritize a game over other pressing matters. Our stadium was just renovated to add “state of the art” scoreboards, etc to better enhance the fan experience. All of that was paid for by the Cuyahoga County taxpayers every time they buy alcohol or a tobacco product.
But no elected official wants to be the guy who lost the Browns. The mayor who did lose the Browns was only redeemed because he got an expansion team. But St. Louis just lost their team because their owner created a better deal for himself elsewhere. The Oakland fans are likely to lose their team again. Do they deserve to? No, but Oakland cannot afford to build a billion dollar stadium and then just hand it over to the Raiders owner.
Does the NFL care? No, because Las Vegas will do whatever it takes to bring the NFL to town. They can afford to because there is a virtually insatiable appetite for football. And there must always be a city to use as a threat for relocation so current cities give the teams whatever they want. People want their football and are willing to excuse a lot to have it.
Between the stadium hustle and a dictator-like commissioner who receives over $40 million each year, the NFL has begun to resemble the old Standard Oil. It does as it pleases, and the only thing that matters to them is that each of their games get played. If a player is no longer of value, he can be easily replaced.
They do all of this because they know that we’ll be watching. That’s what’s so frustrating. We want our football fix and we’re willing to do just about anything to get it.
