Long live the games - Kickoff

ON MONDAY, SEPTEMBER 10, the NFL had its usual tight grip on the nation's sensibilities. The opening Sunday of the 2001 season had been completed, and spirited Monday-morning quarterbacking abounded.

What's the problem with the Minnesota Vikings, who were manhandled by the Carolina Panthers and their rookie quarterback, Chris Weinke? Are the San Diego Chargers--who already equaled their win total from 2000 by thrashing the Washington Redskins--for real? Are Peyton Manning and the Indianapolis Colts--who put up a 45-spot against the New York Jets--going to be this year's version of the 1999 St. Louis Rams?

On Tuesday, September 11, nobody cared about football anymore.

In the wake of the worst attack ever on American soil, we realized that our professional athletes aren't actual heroes. We realized that the ability to heave a football 60 yards downfield or to make a leaping catch shouldn't entitle someone to a special status in our society.

All of the old metaphors we had made a habit of throwing around now seemed hopelessly out of place. We realized that a football field isn't really a battlefield, that it's nothing more than a place where a game is played.

We heard stories of true American heroes. We were told about firefighters, police, and civilians who sacrificed their own lives in an attempt to save lives. We cried for the thousands who died.

Still, there was one positive that grew out of all the horror of September 11: Our priorities shifted. Suddenly, spending quality time with family members and other loved ones seemed like an infinitely better alternative to plopping down on the couch and watching football all Sunday long. The NFL realized this, too. Sensitive to the mood of the country, it canceled all of its games for Week 2.

Few people even noticed the absence of the NFL that week, and when the schedule resumed on September 23, it still was difficult to muster much enthusiasm. But for me, anyway, a funny thing happened as the games unfolded that day: I forgot--if only momentarily--about the weighty issues facing our nation. I cheered. I yelled at the television. I marveled at the exploits of LaDainian Tomlinson and Jerome Pathon and Donovan McNabb.

For a few hours, I felt good.

Football no longer was an all-consuming passion, but it certainly was a welcome diversion. The sport was exactly what it should have been even before the attack on September 11: escapist entertainment.

Yes, we're filled with sadness. Yes, we're scared about what the future will bring. But life goes on. The games go on. Our country is under siege, but our spirit has not been--and will not be--broken.

COPYRIGHT 2001 Century Publishing
COPYRIGHT 2001 Gale Group