Football … or Cirque du Soleil?

I have faithfully attended Syracuse University football games ever since I was a wee lad.  Remember Archbold Stadium? I attended the very last game in that venerable old wreck.  Got my picture and name in the paper for helping with the demolition by taking my seat as a souvenir….on a Wednesday, when I was supposed to be at work.  And yes, I was busted. I attended the very first game in the Carrier Dome, and most since.

I can distinctly remember when a football game was just that, a football game.  What you saw, seldom consuming more than 3 hours to play, were two teams battling it out on the field - with few interruptions or distractions. Football at its essence - put 22 men on the gridiron, bar the doors, and see who’s left standing at the end of an hour of play.  Grab a hot dog and a beer, and call it a good day. Throw in a half time show with the band playing a couple of tunes, and right back to the game. That …. that was football. The focus then was simply … the game. Imagine that.  And people actually showed up to watch.  Lots of people. Imagine that.

Then, the ineluctable tide of change rolled across Piety Hill. Money entered the picture, followed quickly by decisions thought necessary to fuel that most precious of idols. Add television, and the recipe was complete. It was, in general, the realization that vast sums of money could be generated by simply tinkering with the game. You see, when man finds out that obscene amounts of money can be made by engaging in an activity, well, no power on earth save the law can keep man away.  And even that doesn’t work.   To be clear, it was not an idea of the University’s making.  The train was passing; their only decision was to jump on board or not.  It was not really a choice they had, given their size and commitment to athletics. So, on they jumped.

I’ve been curious for awhile now to just look at what changes this train ride has wrought over the years.  Finally, I got curious enough to actually do something about it. So, at a home game last fall, I did an informal, yet somewhat formal, survey of what has become of our Orangemen.

 

Today, you are fortunate if you leave the stadium in under 4 hours.  Which means that to attend a football game will require one to devote at least 7 hours of the day to this activity.  You are also fortunate if you leave the stadium with money in your pocket.  You shall certainly leave with ringing in your ears, and a sore butt.  And you can count yourself lucky if you are not seeing double or feeling slightly queasy. 

To what can we attribute these consequences that seem so troublesome? Revenues are fueled, in part, by turning what should be a football game into a relentless four hour infomercial/ rock concert.  It is an assault of sight and sound on our senses. 

What do I mean?  The most blatant observable example is what I call the “dancing display of dizziness.”  There is a ring of LED lights that encircles the dome.  This scroll board, so prevalent in stadiums today, is a panel roughly 4’ high, that winds its way completely around the dome and presents a streaming message in lights … moving lights … constantly … moving … lights.  Pass the barf bag please. And thus are commercial advertisements thrust into the conscious and subconscious.  We don’t have a choice; our eyes behold the message whether we’re concentrating on it or not.  Think of it as  the scroll line at the bottom of your TV screen that distracts you as you try to watch the actual picture.  And you wonder why everyone has high blood pressure and a touch of ADD.

The attack on our hearing is another matter.  Unfortunately, a domed stadium captures sound and merely bounces it around the interior.  It searches for a home and ultimately finds it has no place to go save our tender ears.  The University desires to have the Dome be known as the Loud House, so it puts the sound system in the hands of a direct descendent of the Marquis de Sade, locked in a soundproof room, with a case of  Bud light at his disposal, and they instruct him to keep the volume control at Max, no matter what. It isn’t good enough for them that the fans actually provide the “loud” in Loud House.  This, no doubt, is meant for the benefit of the younger fans in the arena.  Hearing aid professionals are giddy with joy every time the music starts.

With this backdrop, I simply decided one game to observe stuff, and to count stuff …. and to try to watch the game at the same time.   I did not count any commercial activity happening before the game actually started, and believe me, there was plenty to watch, even then.  I did not count any of the static advertisements that adorn the dome, even in the oddest of places.  Folks, there are even advertisements in the men’s room.  Gives you something to read while you’re, well, you know.

Back to the game…during the actual play of the game, in the first quarter only, I did count 158 advertisements on the scrolling light strip from hell. There were probably more than 158 ads, but I was actually trying to watch a football game more than I was trying to divide my attention by counting ads as they raced around the room.  If the first quarter is any indication, then by game’s end, there were shown on that board a minimum of 632 advertisements. Did I mention that is very, very annoying to watch this board, or to try and ignore it.  It can actually make one queasy if you stare at it long enough.

There were Kiss Cams (I am still waiting for someone to get really busted over one of these things) and Fan Cams, all shown on the big video screens. Other promotions appeared there as well, and every now and then, they actually showed a replay of a game highlight.  In addition, there were little side performances all over the place, much like a 3 ring circus.  They took place throughout the game, when there were breaks in the action, which thanks to TV, there were plenty of (never end a sentence with a preposition, remember that).  These consisted of quick presentations (think plaques) to people, seat improvement promotions or contests, usually in the corner of the end zone. Superfluous.

And because of that TV influence, there exists -  the man in red.  Whenever there is an opportunity for a TV commercial, he hustles onto the field of play, easily recognized by his white pants and red shirt.  Everything stops.  He immediately assumes control, and with his authoritarian stance, arms folded, he and he alone now dictates the pace and play of the game.  Only when he retreats from the field, does play begin again.  He does this a lot during the game.  Everybody hates him. 

Finally, there’s the matter of scheduling, which should fill an entire post-plus, as it is perhaps the most annoying aspect of the entire experience.  In short – college football games used to be played on Saturday afternoons in the fall.  Now, you can find them being played starting in August, and on Thursdays and Fridays, as well as Saturdays.  And games can now start at 7 or 8PM.  Just what the average fan simply loves, a late game that guarantees you won’t be home till at least 1 AM the following day. It is not unusual for the game date and/or time to be finalized mere days or weeks before it is actually played, which makes it impossible to plan any important events in one’s life. And don't get me started on the grand scheme of playing some games in New York City, while we get to watch the likes of Stony Brook.  

And there you have it.  Nowadays, it seems as if I'm attending a glorious 4 hour informercial, and for our entertainment between those commercials, they throw in a football game.

So, is all lost here?  Does college football, as it was originally designed, now sleep with the dinosaurs?  Well, for the most part, yes.  But there are still pockets of those idyllic movie like settings where a football game is simply, a football game.  Or something very close to one.  Locally, on any given gorgeous fall afternoon, you can head to Colgate, Alfred, St. John Fisher, Cortland, or Brockport.  Want a nice fall trip for a game and fit in a New England visit as well?  Jump on the pike and head for one of my favorite towns to watch Holy Cross play in a nice little open air stadium on a beautiful college campus in Worcester, Mass.  Football, as it was meant to be played.

So, that over, what’s my point here?  Am I just some old fart fan bitching?  Well, yes, partly.  But I echo the sentiments of many SU faithful.  Fans in our section make the same observations and comments. We know the University has a tenuous relationship with its fans, and they are probably marketing now to what they see as the future, ie, to the young fans and current youth. But as I look around the dome now, I see many, many more heads dotted with grey than any other demographic.  They are the ones spending the money, and will be doing so for years to come.  And those youth they covet….they will probably be moving on as soon as they can.  I mean, who wants to spend a winter like this around here?

Which takes me to the reason I’m probably writing this in the first place.  The short name for it is Seasonal Affective Disorder.  Or, as it is known around these parts - winter means going nuts.  This winter from hell is the breaking point for many people I suspect, if I can gauge a mood out there.  We haven't a terrible overload of snow…yet….but we're working on it.  Winter has certainly been one depressing stretch of weather after another. We no sooner get through a bad period, when the Weather Channel proudly announces yet another Nor’easter is marching up the coast.   When Jim Cantore shows up in your town, you know the worst is not far behind. Wind, snow, and  temperature have just beaten us down, and I for one am depressed to the point that I think I can actually see the end of my rope, and it isn’t far away.  I guess that’s as good a reason as any to write something like this. Spring, where art thou?

Mark Twain Quote: “Cold!  If the thermometer had been an inch longer we’d all have frozen to death.”