The NFL is easy for conservatives to mock. The lame “End Racism” endzone signs, ancient quarterbacks who refuse to retire, and grown men with Peter Pan syndrome who are far too upset when their city’s team of 20-somethings doesn’t play the way they’d like. Some on the political right have criticized sports culture as a distraction from the important work of politics and business. They’ve compared it to “Brave New World’s” soma, a drug to keep the masses endlessly enthralled while the real machinations happen behind the scenes.
Yet, professional sports serve an important cultural function, and in the age of increasingly siloed entertainment options, conservatives should treasure the NFL and other national sports. They’re the last bastion of popular culture.
Popular culture is American culture. Our movies, music and sports are viewed the world over. Americana is rock and roll, Hollywood, and a burger with fries. It used to be, everyone enjoyed these things. The same things. Everyone listened to the same songs, because that was what the radio played. Everyone saw the same movies, because that was what the theaters showed.
However, technology and globalization have increased our options. In many ways, this has been enriching. We can get Thai, Mexican and Mongolian food in the same strip mall. We can stream movies released one year ago, or 60 years ago. I can go to a rock concert with my father because I’ve been streaming the music of his youth, even though the radio hasn’t played Skid Row songs for decades.
In many ways, this has been isolating. I sat down to watch a show with a friend recently and we couldn’t agree on what to watch. More accurately, I had never heard of the shows she threw out, and she hadn’t heard of my favorites. Our tastes have both become siloed — I like deadpan sitcoms from the early 2000s, and she enjoys coming-of-age legal dramas. If I want to watch nothing but precisely my taste in television, or listen to nothing but exactly the type of music I’m in the mood for, I can.
What’s the problem with this? To each his own, the saying goes. Why do I care if my peers don’t share my affinity for HBO’s “The Wire” and Stephen King books, so long as I can access them? I care because it’s bad for society when people lack things in common. Imagine knowing that you shared at least some common interests with everyone in your country. An American in 1980 would be hard-pressed to find a fellow American who hadn’t seen the “Empire Strikes Back,” or at least heard of it. That’s something to talk about, and having this baseline shared interest is the basis of culture.
What binds us together today? We don’t watch the same shows, like the same music or eat at the same restaurants. Popular culture was American culture, but there is no popular culture anymore. And siloing will only get worse as AI-generated content develops.
A world where AI can create infinite permutations of your favorite content will be the death of popular culture. Why would I sit through “The Last of Us” with its hamfisted political messaging when I can have AI create an identical zombie show with conservative undertones? Why would I endure cringe-inducing Disney “Star Wars” when I can have AI cook up the on-screen rendition of the Old Republic video games I’ve always wanted to see? We will have no popular culture because nothing will be popular; everything will be tailor-made.
That’s why professional football is so important; it’s the last thing that we all watch. Across America, every Sunday, we plant ourselves on the couch to watch our teams duke it out. When you meet someone new, no matter where they’re from, you can find some common ground by commenting on your team or theirs. Even if they don’t watch regularly, they likely have some conception of how their team is doing.
College football may have even greater importance. We used to live in a society with a deep reverence for tradition. People would spend their whole lives in the same county their grandparents did. They’d go to the same school and walk down the same Main Street. Few people do this in today’s globalized world, and we hardly value tradition as a society. We’re always on to the next big thing, the newest innovation.
Yet, most of us revere our alma mater. Millions of Americans have fond memories of fight songs, tailgates and watch parties. Though I now live a thousand miles away, I feel a swell of pride every time I’m watching a Kansas football game and hear the Rock Chalk chant, or see a drone shot of my old neighborhood with the Campanile in the background. That’s why, for example, there are Kansas sports bars in Chicago, and I’ve met fellow Jayhawks proudly repping the crimson and gold in Slovenia. In a culture defined by newness and change, we cling to our colleges and their traditions.
There’s also a popular aspect to college culture. Any 20-something will tell you their thoughts on the College Football Playoff configuration, and many people have a hot take on the Lane Kiffin drama. Saturdays in the fall are dominated by college football, from the early “Gameday” broadcasts to the late-night Mountain West matchups.
We, as an American nation, still collectively value football at all levels and the traditions associated with it. What are we, as conservatives, seeking to conserve if not that?