When I sat down to write this piece I initially intended to be non-partisan. I would begin with “both sports have their merits, blah blah blah”, and that’s really what it would be – blah. So here I go again, throwing myself open to the fickle world of trolling, prepared to lose friends and alienate people.
Well, not all people. Probably just Americans. I’m going to lose American friends, because, well, let’s be honest, you can’t watch American football (AF) for any period of time and not want to hate on it.
My weekends on junks and exploiting various champagne brunches have recently been replaced by early morning sessions at sports pubs like the Dog House. Why? Because of the Rugby World Cup, the AF season and, mainly, my boyfriend.
With the taste of Al’s jello shots still on my tongue, I am forced to face the prospect of a pint at 7am whilst listening to grown men argue over which sport is best. The merits and flaws of each sport are contended at such length and with unfathomable energy that my pint quickly turns to three, and I run out of levels on Candy Crush.
Arguments frequently start with “rugby players are men” as they don’t wear all the padding required for AF – a retort that is usually followed by an incredibly boring diatribe informing the unfortunate listener that the weight incurred by the linebacker onto the running-back is thrice what’s seen in rugby. (By this point in the conversation I’m often debating whether or not to just pay for more levels on Candy Crush).
Believe it or not, Jeremy Clarkson has an opinion on this too
One thing I’ve noticed is that rugby players don’t have the luxury of unlimited substitutions like AF players do. Unless you are literally unconscious or breathing your last breath, play continues. Rugby stops for no man. AF, on the other hand, stops for every man, woman, dog, and partridge in a pear tree.
I mean, seriously, who has the energy to sit through those never-ending adverts?
If you watch an AF game for an hour, you’ve probably witnessed two minutes of “action” and a subsequent 10 minutes of grown men gyrating on the floor in celebration of merely catching a ball and thus moving the game, what, two feet down the turf? Plus 40 minutes of adverts and another eight minutes of two old men squeezed into suits too small and too shiny, discussing the “play” that happened 15 minutes ago and you can’t even remember now.
AF is undeniably incredibly complex, however. Each player has to learn around 150 different “plays” per game, whilst the quarterback has literally seconds to decide which play to go with. And it’s definitely hard to appreciate a sport when you don’t really understand the rules, even after all my in-depth research. I guess it comes down to whether you like chess, a game of set moves and counter moves, or a free-flowing spontaneous game like checkers.
Whilst rugby is known worldwide as the “hooligan’s sport played by gentlemen”, AF is definitely an incomprehensible sport played by total celebrity douchebags. Here’s my proof.
My 10am, bleary-eyed theory is that had it not been for running-back (and almost definite double-murderer) O.J. Simpson, Robert Kardashian would never have gained national recognition as his defence attorney, and no-one would have cared about Kim’s sex tape, meaning that there certainly wouldn’t have been “Keeping Up With The Kardashians”, and we wouldn’t be living in a world dominated by “news” about Kylie’s stupid lips.
You can imagine the blank stares this conjecture of mine is met with in the Dog House. Back to my phone.
In other shit celebrity TV, Baltimore Ravens’ Ray Lewis’s episode on Cribs is just unreal, even for Cribs. Especially when you take into account that Lewis was a murder suspect in a double homicide in 2000. The NFL doesn’t care though. He’s NFL royalty now.
Oh, and just in case you’re mixing him up with the other Ray on the Ravens, I’m talking about No. 52, the linebacker, not Ray Rice, the running back, who incidently went viral last year when he punched his then-fiancé, now-wife, out cold on CCTV.
Other noteworthy AF players include Rae Curruth, who put a hit out on his ex-girlfriend and unborn child (really); Plaxico Burress, who shot himself in the leg in a New York nightclub in 2008, you know, as you do; and Albert Haynesworth, who infamously took time off during the third quarter of a game against the Cowboys to remove running back Julius Jones’s helmet and stomp on his head. The latter was punished with a 15-yard unsportsmanlike conduct penalty (more like a tender kiss on the wrist than a slap, if you ask me).
It’s really boring Googling criminal rugby players, trust me. Instead, I while away the time in the pub with extensive lists of “sexy rugby players”. Googling “sexy football players”, on the other hand, is awkward, as they either look a bit gormless, or like they’re posing for their inevitable mug shot (I understand the helmets now).
I have many other qualms about AF. Linguistic problems like “why is it even called a ‘touchdown’ when you don’t even touch the ball to the floor,” and don’t get me started on the fact that the US has the nerve to call a game “football” when the only contact between ball and foot is when a player kicks to convert a try, or “field goal”.
Yes, rugby is less violent, less complex and less fame-driven than AF, but this isn’t ancient Rome, or Hollywood, for that matter.
No frills, indeed
I know I’ll always prefer rugby. It’s a fast-paced, comprehensible game without the frills, and played in 94 countries. And let’s not forget the short shorts. Oh, lord, the shorts.
Note: This post has been updated.
