UTVols News and Opinions

The sports pages, especially this time of year, are just full of them: comparisons of sports, namely football, to the military. You hear phrases like ‘fight songs’, ‘sideline General’, ‘air attack’, ‘light skirmish’, ‘two platoon system’, and ‘readying the troops for battle’. None of these reference the real life wars being fought by our heroes in the Middle East, but rather War’s younger brother—Sports.

There have been recent incidents, even, where the athletes themselves (a la` Kellen Winslow Jr.) have actually called themselves ‘soldiers’ and the like. This is justified to a few, offensive to many, and just amusing to most of the rest of us. All of it, however, begs the question: where did we get this neurotic obsession with the comparison of football with the military? And is it accurate at all, or just artificial aggrandizement? Should we hold those who persist in the use of this analogy in contempt, or is it something that can truly help us better understand the game, those who play and/ or coach in it, and ourselves?

Before we begin, I wish to say that, as a former proud member of the military (3 yrs. Active, 4 National Guard), I will never attempt to equate the exploits of our athletes with the sacrifices our military personnel daily undertake. I do not denigrate the efforts of those proud Americans who actually fight for our freedoms by comparing them with the achievements, however noteworthy, of those who are privileged to play warlike games due to the freedom provided by that same military. I honor the offerings of our public servants in the military and heartily wish each and every one of them the very best life can offer. I’ll never forget what they have done for me and my family.

With that being said, let’s move on to look at some examples of that comparison. For the sake of familiarity, I’ve drawn on some experiences from our local beloved sons: the University of Tennessee Volunteers. The obvious starting place is their very name: bequeathed originally as a nickname for a fighting unit, the army that answered President Andrew Jackson’s call for volunteers in the war with Mexico in 1812. The tradition did not die with that war, but has actually been earned again and again with each volunteer fighting force down through the ages. In every armed conflict where no draft has been instituted, Tennessee as a state has the reputation of sending, if not the largest, then one of the largest contingents of personnel on a volunteer basis.

On a lighter note, please allow me to offer some colorful additions to this legacy with a bit of hyperbole:

In our football tradition, all branches of the military are represented.
We have the Vol Navy, the diehard cocktail crowd that puts in for every home game at the back door to Neyland Stadium on the Tennessee River;
We have an air force (you can see them flying overhead every home game, dropping humanitarian messages such as ‘Eat at Vinny’s’ or ‘Advertise your company name here’);
We very definitely have an army, clad in orange and white and ready for the conflict;
We even have a marine corps, and I don’t mean just the band. I consider our special teams (punting, placekicking, kick coverage, etc.) to have a marine corps type of mission: they get us started, establish a ‘beachhead’ of sorts for follow-on operations of a larger force, and provide the initial resistance to the same type of efforts from our opponents.
Let’s not overlook the importance of the band (marine corps): we depend on them to supply a major portion of the esprit de corps so necessary to small unit success.
Our organizational structure also mimics a military table of organization and equipment:
We have a field captain, in charge of the troops and the tactics to directly confront the opponent (Coach Phil Fulmer).
His lieutenants, the assistant coaches, responsible for the smaller units’ direction and execution.
The field sergeants, enforcing the orders of the chain of command on the field and in the flow of action (player captains).
We even have a couple of cadets, or extensions of the commander onto the field and with decision-making capacity over and above even the captains of the field units. There are namely two: the quarterback, leader of the offense; and the middle linebacker, leader of the defense.
We have forward observers, taking pictures in the flow of action, viewing them with the larger perspective afforded them in the booth upstairs, and making recommendations to directly impact the flow of action on the field.
We have an intelligence arm, i.e. film study.
We have recruiting—no elaboration necessary.
We call our blocks of pre-season practice time ‘camps’ much like ‘boot camp’.
We even have a political organization:
We have a Congress: 110,000 strong and very vocal.
We have a Congressional oversight committee, i.e the Media. (Wow—when you put it in that kind of perspective, you wonder how one man—the head coach—puts up with having so many armchair quarterbacks joggling his elbow every week. By comparison, George W. Bush only has roughly 2000 or so to worry about. That’s counting Congress and the press corps.)

These are just some small examples, in some cases not limited to Tennessee, where the military culture has overlapped with and changed the culture of football. To stretch a point, we even encountered a comparison in Blackhawk Down where the Special Operations unit (3rd Ranger Battalion) was likened to the special, tough, hardnosed units used for a short yardage situation: “…when we git down on the five yahd line, you gon’ need mah Rangers.” At some point, the analogy will break down; however, we can see that it is definitely a significant comparison that resonates with a lot of people.

Furthermore, some of our greatest coaches had been significantly influenced by the military. Consider the following four coaching icons:

Woody Hayes, famous coach at The Ohio State University: enlisted in the Navy during WWII, July 1941, subsequently attaining the rank of Lieutenant Commander;
Bo Schembechler, famous coach at Hayes’ nemesis Michigan University: served in the Army before earning his master’s degree and re-taking the field;
Paul “Bear” Bryant, legendary coach at Alabama: following Pearl Harbor, enlisted in the Navy and attained the rank of Lieutenant Commander before rejoining the civilian population;
General Robert Neyland, legendary coach of the University of Tennessee and coach Bryant’s nemesis: served in WWII, eventually reaching the rank of Brigadier General before returning to Tennessee. His ‘maxims’ live on today as an object lesson in strategy, tactics, and inspiration for players and coaches alike.

Upon examining all these ways in which football seems to be particularly interwoven with the military, it seems almost impossible to imagine football without the military’s influence.

So, why does it matter? Why go through this intellectual exercise? At this time in our nation’s history, we are particularly sensitive to any and all military references simply because it is so pervasive. We are daily reminded of the impact of military operations on our lives and our national consciousness.

With all the ardor and focus of a younger brother ‘aping’ his older, revered sibling, football readily and willingly takes on the trappings and attitudes of the military with reckless abandon. After all, imitation is the sincerest form of flattery; if you accept this as true, then it can only follow that America still has a tacit pride in its ability to project force and shape the flow of events. Football, and the passion with which it is devoured by so many, proves it. Our love of the game is, at least on some level, a celebration of the military.

It also may serve as a proxy for projecting our need for victory. In the face of frustration at the lack of a quick resolution abroad to some of our nation’s conflicts, we turn inward instead to find victory over our simulated ‘enemies’, i.e. our football nemesis across the sidelines. The popularity of college football, in particular, is at an all time high. Can it be only coincidence that this is true when we as a political power seem to be, if not losing, at least not winning as quickly as we might like in real conflicts? If so, then football and other proxies for war take on magnified importance in our consciousness particularly at these times, and may explain in part why it is so satisfying to send a proud opponent down in defeat on the gridiron. For Vol fans, almost nothing can replace that long lasting feeling of pride and euphoria when pummeling the Gators to a bleeding, vaguely reptilian pulp, or muzzling the Bulldogs and sending them back sniveling to their doggy houses with their tails tucked. Much more than any candy bar could, VICTORY really satisfies.