You have to ask yourself, what’s the purpose? Notre Dame doesn’t sell beer in the stands. Does that hurt the aura of Notre Dame football? I’ve been to games across the country. I’ve been to Camp Randall at Wisconsin and the Horseshoe at Ohio State, two schools that play in a conference (the Big Ten) in which no schools, except Minnesota, sell alcohol in the regular seating areas. And you know what? Those places aren’t suffering from a lack of enthusiasm or raucous behavior due to their not selling beer in the stands. It’s still a party atmosphere, just as it is in every major college football stadium.
We’re going to look back at this someday and say, “Wow—we were completely idiotic.”
There’s also a contradiction at work: the NCAA has no rules prohibiting sales at regular season events, but it bans the sale of alcohol and alcohol-related advertising during its eighty-eight championships. Additionally, host sites must cover up alcohol advertising during events. What does that tell you? Clearly, there are apprehensions within the NCAA about the connection between alcohol and college sports. It is saying, “We’re uncomfortable about this at a high-profile event, but we can’t do a whole lot if you want to sell it on campus.”
We hear the same arguments every time the topic is raised. People are already drinking before and after games, so what’s the difference? The undercurrent to that argument is this: Why shouldn’t colleges reap some of the profits from what everyone knows is already happening?
A lot of people smoke in America, too. Does that mean we should encourage it, or not make an attempt to lessen it?
Another argument: college football and drinking have become synonymous, and it’s foolish to try to stop it.
Well, fast food and obesity have become synonymous, too. Should we stop trying to educate people on that linkage? Should we go completely libertarian?
We know from a study conducted by the Institute of Alcohol Studies that 25 percent of binge drinkers commit violent offenses. On a more colloquial level, we know that alcohol plus young men equals trouble. Football games attract young men. Football games attract young men who like to drink. And college football games attract young men who are away from home for the first time and maybe drinking for the first time and doing stupid things out of their parents’ line of sight for the first time. Geez, what could go wrong?
In the UK, they had a government-funded initiative to confiscate alcohol from kids 18 and under. The result? A 15 percent drop in crime. We all know the game here, and we all know the consequences. There’s a gigantic risk involved in getting young men drunk enough to be idiots. Take a minute to go to YouTube and see the violence that takes place at football games. It’s not pretty.
There’s no part of this that makes sense. Universities should not be in the business of helping young men get drunk enough to be idiots. It’s simply not worth the risk.
And I don’t want to hear someone say, “You can’t let a few people ruin it for everyone.” Really? Yes, you can. That’s the way laws work. We have laws throughout our country to restrict young men from doing something stupid. It’s a logical means of protecting society from young men and young men from themselves. Look at car insurance—far more expensive for young men. Look at car-rental rules—can’t rent a car until you’re 25. Laws and rules are by definition restrictive. You can’t be president till you’re 35. You can’t drive a car until you’re 16. We have a concern about young men in America; they’re the liability most insurance companies are concerned with. A nation of actuaries can’t be wrong, can it?
But let’s not limit this discussion to college football. The NFL has an alcohol problem, too, and its alcohol problem has the potential to become an economic problem. Right now, the NFL doesn’t have too many money issues. In fact, it’s almost impossible to find some part of the NFL that isn’t increasing: television revenue, television ratings, endorsement deals, player salaries, trainingcamp crowds. And yet the one outlier is game attendance. Game attendance is declining. Blackouts are more common. The Raiders decided to tarp off the Mount Davis section of the Coliseum to reduce seating by 11,000 and make it easier to sell out.
Why? Why are more and more NFL fans staying home? You can run down the usual list of suspects: traffic hassles, ticket prices in a tough economy, high-definition television, the Red Zone channel.
But you have to leave room for one major reason: the behavior inside stadiums is appalling. From the language to the behavior to the sight of grown men peeing in bathroom sinks or garbage cans, NFL stadiums are quickly becoming places that are not in the least bit family-friendly.
Something has to be done about this. You go into an NFL stadium and the vulgarity is awful. A huge percentage of the crowd is hammered by the time it stumbles into the stadium, and now we’re letting these guys leave parking lots just smoked. It’s no surprise, though, because the NFL targets this crowd. And the NFL is making it worse by pushing more games late Sunday night, late Thursday night, the usual late Monday night. They’re packing seventy thousand smashed people into a stadium and then sending them out on the interstate.
Say it out loud.
In many places, the macho, drunken, jersey-wearing fan feels he’s upholding some unwritten code of local fandom if he gets as drunk as possible and defends his team’s honor by getting into a fight. His language is vulgar, his mood is foul, and you better not stare at him for a millisecond too long or else he’ll walk up on you and try to goad you into a fight.
This sounds horribly elitist—I admit it up front—but you can separate men into two categories: Job Guy or Career Guy. The NFL markets itself to blue-collar, working-class men. All the commercials—Budweiser, Ford trucks, Doritos. It’s a man’s world, and these men aren’t eating organic spinach and driving Priuses (Pri-i?).
Generally speaking, Career Guy is not going to go to a game on a Sunday afternoon and put his career in jeopardy by doing something idiotic. This is anecdotal, and based on my experience dealing with sponsors and salespeople, and other professionals, but Career Guy is far less likely to risk his professional well-being in favor of a dozen shots of cheap tequila and an upper-deck brawl with a guy wearing a different-colored jersey. He’s got clients, maybe, or an important meeting on Monday. It’s a much bigger deal for Career Guy to show up for work on Monday morning with a raging hangover and a black eye than it is for Job Guy. You’re generally not going to put your career in jeopardy by throwing a haymaker at a guy at a football game. It’s simply not worth it.
Sad to say, there’s not as much of a social stigma for Job Guy if he acts like a complete asshat in a public setting. If you’ve got a job at a warehouse and the guy behind you pops off, what do you give a shit? You’ve had nineteen jobs, and your honor or your team is more important than that job. Job Guy might throw the haymaker, consequences be damned.
Say it out loud.
It’s reached the point where the behavior inside stadiums is so appalling I believe alcohol should be banned, with few exceptions. One exception I would make—and this is going to sound elitist one more time—is for suites. The suites are predominately for advertisers, and many of the advertisers are alcohol companies. Obviously, the more they advertise, the more the franchise—and its fans—benefits. It’s a fine line; alcohol is big business in the NFL, but it’s also the biggest contributor to negative fan behavior. The stakes are high. The league—or individual teams—would not only have to take a stand, it would have to take a stand that would cost it some money.
But look at the big picture: this is the one league that has every major broadcast network under contract. This is the one league that is financially solvent, from top to bottom, inside and out. This isn’t the NBA, where a certain percentage of the teams lose money. This isn’t big-league baseball, where Tampa and Oakland just can’t draw. I wouldn’t fault the NHL if it said banning alcohol was a hit it couldn’t afford to take; $4 million for an owner in that league could mean the difference between red and black.
The NFL is in a category all its o
wn. What are they making on beer sales? Seven million per team maybe? Hell, the Seahawks paid Matt Flynn $10 million to not play.
Make one thing clear: I’m not a moralist or some throwback Puritan who believes strong drink is the devil’s brew. I’m in favor of legalizing pot and I own a wine store.
Morals aren’t the issue.
Sanity is the issue. Common sense is the issue.
You will never see me wear a jersey to a game. Ever. Maybe my ego is just too big, but I would never wear another man’s name on my back. That’s my back, and I’m proud of it. I don’t want my kids to see me idolizing someone else. Do you want them to idolize other people? You can be respectful of someone’s work without slobbering over him or her.
There’s just too much man worship in sports. Maybe it’s our Western religion where we look up for answers while Eastern religion asks you to look within yourself, not idolize or worship someone else.
It’s what brought down Penn State football. People allowed a man in his eighties to run a $400 million football program. That’s not being an ageist—it’s being a realist. Joe Paterno was not only injured twice during his last few years, he was so generationally out of touch, he didn’t recognize how dangerous and inappropriate the Jerry Sandusky information was.
Never forget, Phil Jackson was once swept out of the playoffs. The late Steve Jobs at Apple had several creations that failed. Go look up his 1988 single-button mouse, which could have doubled as a hockey puck.
When Bill Belichick and the Patriots acquired Tim Tebow, there was immediate recognition of Belichick’s brilliance. How soon we forget his dubious acquistions of Albert Haynesworth and Chad Ochocinco and his regrettable trade of talented Richard Seymour.
Women seem to grow out of it. Teenage girls may worship boy bands or movie stars but move past the infatuation at an earlier age. With guys, it starts early and often grows when we have the means to support it. Autographs, iPhone pictures, fantasy camps, message boards, paying thousands for a seat at a table with a 67-year-old former football star—would a woman really pay 25 grand for a dinner with Molly Ringwald in 2013?
Man worship is at an all-time high. It’s a bull market right now. No thanks.
Hanging in the Imbalance
Bel Air Country Club is nestled into the hills above UCLA’s campus in one of the most prestigious neighborhoods in the country, and it’s just as beautiful as it sounds.
After a round of golf at Bel Air, it’s not uncommon to spot anyone—from a broadcasting icon to a business tycoon to a Hollywood celebrity—knocking back a few. On the night of my one and only visit, I spotted all of the above when former NBA player and coach Mike Dunleavy invited me up for a few drinks before he and his wife went to dinner elsewhere.
The next ninety minutes were filled with giant laughs, compelling stories, and a sense of camaraderie among men who may find themselves competing against one another during the work week. These were men who put in long hours, and this impromptu 6:15 cocktail party was a break from lives filled with deadlines and pressure. No one, judging by the conversations, would be happy living his life any other way. They were competitive, hardworking guys, and nobody was about to apologize for that.
I had put in a long week of radio shows and sales meetings. Before I sat down with Mike and entered into the group conversation, I was dragging. Within minutes, I was energized.
It was the same energy I feel whenever I’m in a room full of athletes, coaches, or other dreaded type-A personalities who are often criticized for lacking balance, priorities, and a sense of perspective.
These are men and women—mostly men, to be honest—who are often singularly obsessed with achievement or mission. The problem, according to too many people who lack the same drive, is that people like this lack balance.
You’ve heard it:
He’s a workaholic. His life is out of balance.
He’s obsessed. He needs some balance in his life.
Is it possible that this premise—one of our longest-held and least-questioned—is mostly one giant crock?
If you live in my world long enough, it certainly feels that way.
I decided to research what makes people happy, and I found that even chronically unhappy people don’t list a balanced life as a means of escaping from the dark tunnel of depression. Of all the things listed—independence, sex, achievement, charity work, exercise—balance was nowhere to be found.
How can that be? How can such a vital and universally acknowledged key to happiness not be, in fact, a key to happiness? My barista is a poet, web designer, ski bum, and all-around radical dude—he always has a lively step to his mornings.
Could it be possible that Peyton Manning, a guy who spends countless hours breaking down game film without so much as a single camping trip with his buddies or a visible recreational pursuit, may be just as happy as my barista? Or—gulp—even more so?
I can only speak for guys since … well, I am one. But after forty-nine years on this planet, most of it spent observing and then discussing teams and people, I’m going rogue right here: Unbalanced Guy? He’s doing just fine.
You can have Balanced Guy. I’ll take his miserable brother, otherwise known as “Fully Committed to Something.” You’ll recognize him if you see him. He’s the one always hanging out with another unbalanced guy—“You Get One Shot at This Life and I’m Going to Make Something of It.”
Maybe those guys get home every night and head to the nearest sofa, where they dive headfirst, bury themselves in designer throw pillows, and sob for hours.
Or maybe they don’t.
Maybe through intense competition on the climb to the top of their fields, they’ve grown accustomed to—but not comfortable with—the occasional defeat and are resilient enough that the kind of day-to-day problems that derail most people are treated as welcome challenges.
Here’s a question for every therapist who preaches balance: Would you prefer balance from the quarterback of your favorite NFL team? You know, the guy who might have had a better game if he hadn’t spent several hours that week on his new whittling exhibit? If you’re a therapist in Dallas and a Cowboys’ season-ticket holder, would you prefer Tony Romo to skip practice today to work on his recently acquired interest in the violin?
Nobody is suggesting that staring at a computer screen all day is a recipe for eternal bliss. Nobody is suggesting you ignore your kids, never take a vacation, and treat your spouse like an employee. Nobody is saying that having the Unabomber’s social life is the way to go.
But look around. You’ll see a pattern.
As author Scott H. Young writes, “Almost everything meaningful is accomplished by a megalomaniac on a mission. Balance is static, it’s the opposite of change and growth. Obsession, not balance, makes things happen.”
Isn’t it reasonable, then, to assume that many people or groups who create everything from transcendent technological advances to small landscaping companies gain a level of self-worth that wouldn’t have been possible without some level of obsession?
Unless you’re reading this book in Yellowstone National Park, look around right now. What do you see—a computer, a house, a nice clock, dual-pane windows? You think Balanced Guy made all those things happen? And if you acknowledge that Unbalanced Guy was the driving force behind them, don’t you think he gained something emotionally from his creations?
In sports, teams are constantly asking for more from you, the fan. Rising ticket prices, PSLs, $9 beers, DirecTV packages to watch games—they’re on a mission to separate you from your discretionary income. Given that, isn’t it perfectly fine for you to ask for something in return, like a greater and more serious commitment from the athletes and coaches your team employs?
For one thing, it pays off. Longtime NFL scout Gary Horton told me the hardest-working coach he ever met was Bill Belichick. Upon being hired to coach the Cleveland Browns, Belichick gathered every scout in a room and broke down what he wanted from a nose tackle should the Browns ev
er draft one.
This nose-tackle meeting took more than four hours.
Horton said Ravens general manager Ozzie Newsome, maybe the league’s most respected talent evaluator, has a relentless work ethic. Newsome arrives at the office every morning in the off-season to watch tapes of college players, many of whom the Ravens have no chance of landing.
Maybe it’s just a vicious cycle, and we’re all to blame for the unbalance in our lives. We pay more, therefore we demand more and we’re all miserable in the process. Is that how it works? Maybe an 8-8 team makes the world a happier and more balanced place, enough wins to bring me—the fan—back, but not so many wins that the coaching staff won’t take that extra weekend off.
But what are the sports stories we want to hear? From my lengthy experience in the field, I’ve got a pretty good idea: Michael Jordan lifting weights the morning after every game of his career; Kobe Bryant refusing to leave the practice gym until he wins the final game of H-O-R-S-E; Peyton Manning sitting in a dark film room hours after practice looking for the slimmest edge on his opponent.
For all we give to sports, these are the stories we need to hear.
Nearly any business of any size—sports teams and leagues included—resides in a global space. Fifty years ago, the great 18-year-old American shortstop had to worry about fewer competitors for a job in the big leagues. Now, that same kid has to be better than shortstops from the Dominican Republic, Venezuela, Mexico, and even Cuba.
You simply can’t rise to the highest level without putting in more hours than your competitors. And when it comes to sports, the more hours you put in at an earlier age, all the better.
You Herd Me!: I'll Say It If Nobody Else Will Page 4