National Floozie League

Women have no business there: Football is the realm of men. From the competitive violence on the gridiron to the grunts and hurrahs of the fanatically devoted, football is all about testosterone, aggressive action, and sophomoric posturing. It’s all about being one of the guys.

I know there are female fans of our nation’s second favorite pastime, just as there are male fans of the Women’s Tennis Association, but to suggest the respective fan bases are comprised of significant members of the opposite sex would be truly obtuse. That’s why Hank Jr. doesn’t perform at the US Open. Football is a release for the warrior fantasies of men. It’s so ingrained in our Y-chromosomes that we even invented a fantasy version of our fantasy-based obsession. Nothing could be more definitely manly than that.

So what was the leadership of the National Football League thinking when they chose model Marisa Miller as the league’s new spokesperson? I know what the marketing department was thinking, I’m not blind. What is the fastest way to get a male football fan’s attention? A sign that reads “All You Can Eat Wings.” The second fastest is to put a cute girl up on the screen. But I have to ask: Do we really need another woman in football?

Look, I’m not trying to crush the goals of girls who dream of kicking an extra point. And I’m not trying to marginalize the woman who works hard to climb the corporate ladder of any organization, be it a team or an entire league. I’m talking about the pouring of estrogen onto and around the field of play by way of female reporters and commentators. I’ve yet to see a woman drafted to play nose guard for any NFL team, not even the Detroit Lions, yet they are all over the sidelines giving us analyses of what this sprained ankle or that pulled tendon could mean for the second half. And I have to say it usually centers on the ridiculously obvious. We need former players down there to tell us what is going on. Besides, they need the work.

As a former NFL player, if you are somewhat intelligible and reasonably good looking – or your name is Terry Bradshaw – you have a job as a network analyst or color commentator. If, however, your post-career penchants focus more on prostitutes and bankruptcy, you will be working very hard interviewing weak-side guards and assistant trainers on the sidelines just for the chance to cover the Great Turkey Toss in November. It’s hard work but what’s a fella to do when all he knows is shooting the gap, picking the option, and snorting cocaine? But now Victoria’s Secret girls are taking all of those jobs. What’s a former jock to do? As the league is facing an offseason-ending strike from the players’ union next year, one might expect the league to be more protective of former players’ livelihoods, if for no other reason than strength at the bargaining table.

And let’s not forget the obvious: Roger Goodell has made it clear that he will stop at nothing in putting an end to the public perception that the NFL is full of misogynistic pervs and cheats, from quarterbacks who text coworkers to nude players harassing female reporters embedded in locker rooms. While his is indeed an admirable goal, and I’d never defend these players’ behaviors on the grounds of the victims’ proximity to credulous circumstances, is throwing another pretty temptation into the lion’s (or steeler’s or jet’s) den such a good idea? Do women really belong there in the first place? What would be the reaction if the tables were turned?

Maybe the WTA will let me cover the women’s locker room at the US Open next year.