NFL and 'The Hunger Games': Why Everyone Watches, but Not Everybody Listens

I finally saw The Hunger Games last weekend. I won't ruin the movie if you're one of the seven people that still hasn't seen it. I'll only say that I'm forever grateful that Jennifer Lawrence is 21 and that the violence of film isn't as gore-rific as it might have been. Oh, and you might want to pop a Dramamine before you go. But it's a good movie. Better than watching Titanic again, at least.

The book and the film have me wondering, how likely is that sort of thing to happen? I mean, if we handed swords and spears to the finalists of "American Idol," we'd be 80 percent of the way there. But we're not exactly entertained by death (at least by, you know, the actual act of one person killing another person), despite how it might be romanticized in film. 

Interesting that our dystopian fantasies of sport are more violent than our contemporary fare. And if you looked at the trends of American sports today, we seem to be heading in the opposite direction. Our sports are becoming less violent, with more emphasis on safety and sportsmanship than ever before. And as usual, the NFL is pacing the field in this regard, as it does in so many others.  But is that a good thing?

I kind of miss the old days of the NFL, when players went to great lengths to decapitate one another and half of the Raiders roster seemed to be on parole. Players on opposite teams harbored genuine dislike for one another. Pro football in the 1980s embodied that cold-war mentality: good guys and bad guys. It was a simple, if simplified, worldview.

Today, things are different. The players know and, ew, like and respect one another. Guys play hard, but they play well. The gratuitous violence, when it does happen, is almost unenjoyable now. Even though I personally enjoy it, and am amused by it, I still hear Roger Goodell's voice in my ear. This is not part of our game.

Isn't it?

Back to The Hunger Games for a minute. The eponymous killfest from the book and the film is put on by the government of Panem each year, as a reminder to its people of the cost of rebellion. The populace is forced to watch the event from start to finish, from the selection of the players (the Reaping) to the opening gun, until one player remains.

In an early scene, the main character in the story actually volunteers at the district gathering to participate in the Games, but only to spare the life of her little sister, who was originally selected. When the capitol's representation coordinating the Reaping (the Panem panel, if you will) ask for the congregation to applaud the gesture, nobody does. The silence from the massive gathering, in fact, is deafening.

That silence is the first real hint to the audience of the division of perspective on the Games between the government and the people. The government loves the Games and promotes them as entertainment. The people watch because they are forced to, but they take no joy in doing so.

Nobody in our country is forced to watch the NFL (although if you live in an NFL city, you might be forced to pay for your team's stadium through tax revenue, but that's another post for another day). But if one wants to avoid looking like the poor lost sap at the water cooler on Monday morning, one could tune in without having any real passion for the game, for the sole purpose of keeping up with other fans. The legitimate peer influence in NFL fandom is undeniable, and sometimes just watching the free-TV games or just owning a replica jersey isn't enough to immerse you, especially if your friends are shelling out for Sunday Ticket or the $300 authentic apparel.

As a guy, knowing that I can talk to any other guy (and many women) about the NFL is a great feeling. And to be honest, guys that don't follow the NFL aren't really dudes I want to be hanging out with, anyway. And the things we talk about seem to indicate a disconnect between the commentary we hear on telecasts and the general sentiment of football fans in general.

We don't necessarily like seeing guys get knocked out. But we also don't like seeing London Fletcher get flagged for a perfectly clean hit, either. When the patrol for safety in the game interrupts the actual game is where opinions diverge. Most announcers on TV will apologize emphatically for the flagging of seemingly clean hits. The defenders just have to learn that you can't do that anymore. "That," of course, refers to tackling. And it's a scene that we as fans have grown tired of seeing.

Those hits aren't flagged consistently...because they can't be. And even the NFL's disciplinary people will have to play those hits back on super-slow-motion video to determine whether or not a player's safety was compromised, before money comes out of a defender's pocket. Maybe the NFL's process for determining and reviewing those hits will improve over the offseason in their quest for a safer game. It probably won't.

Safety makes rather weak TV. I don't think enjoying hard NFL tackles constitutes a thirst of violence. And I don't think the league's crackdown on that behavior works toward curtailing it. But I see things differently than the powers of the league seem to see them, as they surely are motivated by other things. At least I can have that conversation with other football fans, even if the NFL doesn't want to hear it.