I have never understood football. To me it has always been a cult-like game, full of unintelligible hand signals, secret passwords and ambiguous objectives. However, after attending three Dartmouth football games, I am becoming a fan.
My sole experience with football, until now, involved my passing through a room where "The Game" was on TV. Invariably this would be at an exciting moment on the screen, accompanied by a barrage of commentary by the announcer, and followed by a slow-motion replay to the tune of excited conversation between my father and brother.
Sometimes if I was in a truly inquisitive mood, or if I just wanted to avoid my homework, I would be drawn in. I would sit down, and then ask a question: What's a punt? What's a penalty for?
Immediately, either my father or my brother, or both, would tell me (sometimes not-so-politely) to please be quiet, couldn't I see that this was a "third down," a sensitive moment on the "two-yard line," the last chance to "come from behind"?
I couldn't then and, to be honest, even after intently watching three live games, I still cannot recognize an important play when I see one. But my understanding of the game, like an oh-so-slowly rising sun, is beginning to dawn. Let me tell you what I know about football, as it is played at Dartmouth, in light of my new-found interest.
The object of football is to get the ball to the opposite end of the
field from the one you are on, without dropping it. If you do drop it,
everyone pats you on the back, though not as enthusiastically as when you hold on to it. Once you get to the opposite end of the field, you either throw it through the "Y" or throw it on the ground and jump up and down.
Sometimes you jump up and down while holding on to several other players (on your own team) who are also jumping up and down. You can only throw the ball down once you get to the very end part of the field that says "Dartmouth." And most importantly, if anyone who isn't wearing the Green moves, jump them.
My limited comprehension of the movements that occur on the field should not be taken to imply that all women do not understand the sport. Erica Rosengarten '95, my Older and Wiser, is a football fan. She loves the game. Apparently it occupies many of her Monday nights. So there are women out there who "know" football. And somewhere there are probably guys who wouldn't wait on line for days for Super Bowl tickets, no matter who was playing.
I'm beginning to see that football is not the bizarre game of tackles and injuries that I thought it to be. Each time I watch a game, I learn a little more. I'm confused a little less. And that's good. After all, I am at Dartmouth for a Liberal Arts education, and what is a Liberal Arts education if it doesn't encourage you to learn about things you previously viewed as intriguing or inaccessible?
I may not know what a tight-end does, or what a run-and-shoot offense is, or why clipping is a penalty, but I know all about hiking, and passing, and blocking. I know that the geometric "Y" at the end of the field is a goalpost. I know that huddles are supposed to hold mystery.
Now that I have attended three full games, I can see that football is about strategy as much as it is about strength. And even if I can't understand all the plays, I am starting to appreciate them.
So next time my brother, the high school junior-varsity football captain, calls me from New York to tell me about the 48-yard punt he kicked, maybe I will have an inkling of what an amazing feat that is for a 15-year-old.
And so of course I was at Homecoming, cheering right along with everyone else, even when I was unsure of why.
Football, above everything else, seems to be about team spirit. It is about setting your sights on a goal and striving to get there. It is about beating Yale.
