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Michelle
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columnist
ne after! a g e( ^
e are at their flabby chests,
thatwei painted o’er with
orbellis^ vibrant colors, on
aslightd national television
schedic in sub-zero tem-
i playTa peratures? Maybe
xasA&Mj they possess an
ch Corhi overwhelming
haves love for their
country. Perhaps they are expressing
the joy of biting into a York Pepper-
yers are mint Patty. Or, they just might be look-
vvecani ingfor a job at Chip ’N Dales. No, they
at theys oelong to that brainless, beer-bonging
(, nerd of football fans, commonly
whatTa tnown as the “That guy just puked on
nyshoe!” guys,
loss j Yes, people will flock to stadiums
ach Cora lcross nation, wearing hats with
sedwith! :ans °f beer attached to the sides and
natching outfits to win the coveted
be coac You Two Crazy Guys Look Like Twins
woulij ^ight” award and have their picture
aken on the Jumbotron.
Football, the American pastime. Oh,
uphoric. No, no, that’s Frutopia.
immm, let’s see ... Football, one of the
op 10, most utterly pointless distrac-
ions of mankind in the past 2,000
'ears. Yeah, that’s it!
American football is the crowning
ewel of the degeneration of Western
ivilization. This sport of primitive
mutes, who romp about artificial turf
vhile slamming into each other, bears
striking resemblance to Nean-
lerthals. Seeking applaud and ap-
moval from the tribe and chiefs, foot-
iall players appear on jock itch
ommercials across the nation-flexing
heir muscles and striking cheesy pos-
sbecoming our modern version of
;he braggart warriors.
Regression of the species becomes
ibvious after a Saturday afternoon on
he third deck of Kyle Field, drenched
in bodily fluids secreting from places
one did not even know existed. As
droves of spectators migrate up ramps,
little men in white outfits, known as
“Yell Leaders” conduct screaming
hordes of fans in monotone chants re
sembling the primitive grunts, yelps
and mating calls of ancient peoples.
Why Americans choose to pay $35 for
a seat that does not even exist, $5 for hot
water, 25 cents to flush a toilet, $8 for a
hot dog which is nearly puked up by the
third quarter and $5 for a game program
inevitably stolen is beyond me. Yet we
habitually pack ourselves into these in
fernal pressure cookers like someone is
handing out free crates of Twinkles and
God is conducting a seminar on where
all our missing socks are.
If some vengeful foreign dictator is
desperately sought to damage the
good ’ol U.S. of A., he could bomb the
nation during Monday Night Football
and piss off the entirety of the Ameri
can male population, whose television
receptions would go bad.
I admit I would rather watch foot
ball than, say, hours of Belgian korf-
ball or male ice skaters in pink span-
dex. However, I do not comprehend
the ridiculous and barbaric ritual that
is football.
Boys dress up in bright colors with
little mascots pasted across their
clothing. They then proceed to run
up and down a little confined space
so as to make themselves seem manly
or deserving of social respect and
honor. It is perplexing to me that
sports figures are of such noteworthy
importance in our hemisphere we
will endure the agony of attending a
football game and remain oblivious
to the asinine costs.
These costs are exorbitant, and they
could fund projects that are beneficial
toward humanity, not just Fritos, Bud-
weiser and Troy Aikman. Even here, at
Texas A&M, our University holds a
sport so dear we would rather make
our stadium look like a horseshoe
than fund an art or music major.
The University banks off the sports
fans. Do they think they are just being
“good Ags” and “humpin’ it” at the
games for fun? Think again. They are
just helping to build an empire of im
ages and titles that attract national at
tention, which attract national funds,
attract more student fees, which pay
the salaries, which win the games,
which attract national attention,
which attract national funds ...
Ah, football. It’s more than a game.
Michelle Voss is a sophomore
English major.
Student sentiment should be ‘Put me in coach, I wanna play... ’
Kendall
Kelly
columnist
never thought I would be
playing football at Texas
A&M University. I knew
nothing about the infamous
game that trademarks our
country and dignifies our
campus. I thought a Denver
Bronco was the car my family
rented in Colorado last sum
mer, and as far as 1 was con
cerned the 49ers were a group
of men about to celebrate
their 50th birthday. To my
knowledge, ESPN was an ab
breviation for my major, Espanol, and a tackle was
something my father used when he went fishing.
When I entered the Football Game of college
life as a freshman, someone handed me a jersey
with the number 99 on the back and told me 1
would have to learn about football because A&M
is football. I was named quarterback and instruct
ed to choose my team carefully, because I only
had one chance.
Having no knowledge of the college football
game, I chose the members of my team based on
what I had heard from other rookies. Having about
as much experience in football as 1 had in Scandi
navian folk dancing, I began placing my players
where I thought they should go. Playing center
would of course be Academics, with running backs
Activities and Organizations close behind. Wide re
ceivers were Faith and Free Time, with guards
Friends and Family protecting the team from harm.
The opposing team was Texas A&M University.
But this team had a time-honored tradition of be
ing tough. Starting on defense for Texas A&M were
linebackers I’d heard only rumors about... huge guys
on campus, such as MSC, Student Activities, Student
Government Association and someone named RHA.
Cornerbacks were Opportunity and Leadership, sure
to intercept during passes at campus involvement.
Starting safeties were Advisors and Mentors, and right
smack in front of me, just across the 50-yard line, was
the defensive line of Faculty, Staff and Administration.
Needless to say, I was more terrified than Bevo
at a calf fry. College was a football game and I had
not the first clue how to play. Things such as Full
back and Tail back sounded more like hairstyles
from the 1980s than part of my team.
Well, it’s now the third quarter of my college
football career and I feel like I’ve made some pretty
decent plays. The center of my team, Academics,
managed to score close to 4.0 points every semes
ter. I’ve been tackled many times by applications
from MSC, RHA, Student Activities and SGA. And
even after a few broken bones, interceptions from
cornerbacks Opportunities and Leadership have
proven to be more than worth the sweat. My run
ning backs, Activities and Organizations, have been
on the go non-stop and getting stronger each year.
Wide receivers, Faith and Free Time have finally
been getting their fair share of passes and the at
tention they deserve. And the team couldn’t have
done it without my star players Family and Friends
guarding it at all times.
So it’s predicted I should win this game they
call college, right? I mean, I’m choosing all the
right plays and my team really seems to have it
together. Not quite.
My Field of Dreams has come to life. “Build it
and they will come” is exactly what I did. I built my
own team from scratch in hopes one day my
dreams would come true.
But I still have one last field goal to score before this
game is over. You know what completes goals in this
world and wins the game? Certainly you retired foot
ball stars from high school remember. Any current Ag
gie players... you know, too. The way you win at this
game is the reason you play it in the first place.
It’s called passion. People who play with passion
will persevere.
You are the quarterback, and the team is your
character. If you are a senior in the fourth quarter
of the game, your team is probably pretty together.
You freshmen in the first quarter are still building
up your team and are probably as unsure and
scared as 1 was. But no matter how strong you
think you are, you absolutely cannot play this
game without passion. The real victory in college is
awarded to those quarterbacks who have their
team together, possess the skills to take control of
the game and the passion to persevere. For it is he
with passion who surpasses the games of college
to the grand championship called life.
What is this thing called passion, besides a costly
fragrance for women so strong it could easily knock
down a family of five in passing? I am certainly no
expert and am still trying to figure that out for my
self. Some examples that have knocked me down
walking across campus are players such as Cass Bur
ton, jersey number 00, who has already written his
own book and is currently working on getting it pub
lished. Tausha Burns, jersey number 99 and a junior
biomedical science major, is training for theTen-
neco Marathon and currently can run 14 miles in
one race.Ceci Hudson, jersey number 98 and a se
nior marketing major, is a decathlete, a member of
tlte Fellows program and president of her sorority.
I am no HeismanTYophy recipient, so I have no
credibility to persuade you to play the game of col
lege with passion. You are your own quarterback and
you decide what to do with your future. But I can tell
you if you don’t think you live your life with passion,
you are probably right. Are you excited about your
game or are you just jogging up and down the field,
waiting patiently for the next timeout?
If your college game is spent only running back
and forth between the library and class, then I feel
sorry for you. And if you are so caught up in your
popular players, running backs Activities and Or
ganizations, that you have forgotten about equally
important players such as Friends, Family, and
Faith, then I am even sorrier.
It is not enough to play the game with such
minimal effort. I feel for you because I too have
sat on the bench, watched from the sidelines and
been just a number in the crowd.
Don’t be satisfied with just playing the game. You
are the quarterback, and your team depends on you.
They are ready and just waiting for a little direction.
I may still think that America’s reigning champs,
the Packers, are some kind of courier service and
that the Wrecking Crew is a towing company, but I
can tell you I understand football well enough to
know that in the game of life, even the 50-yard line
seats won’t do for me.
I came to play.
Kendall Kelly is a junior
Spanish major.
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Mail Gall
Visual presentation
upsets married couple
In response to the Sept. 19 Lifestyles
feature, “Viz Lab gets a feeling of
Vizja-Vu":
I was sufficiently interested to
table all my other plans and take
my wife out for the evening. The
feature described the event as a
two-hour screening of two- and
three-dimensional computer
graphics, animation and video
projects created by Texas A&M stu
dents, presented by the College of
Architecture’s Visualization Labo-
rfltnrv After all. T have attended
and enjoyed a number of similar
animation festival programs at the
Rudder complex in the past.
This one had the added bonus
of being home-grown, so to speak.
My wife and I were horrified, how
ever, to discover a number of pro
gram elements in Vizja-Vu not
mentioned in the favorable fea
ture, including lewdness, misogy
ny and rampant profanity.
Due to the traffic we arrived late,
so I have no idea how the show be
gan. I do know, however, as soon as
we entered the Rudder complex we
were immediately bombarded by
echoes of a diatribe with a vocabu
lary consisting of two words, both
of them profane.
I thought perhaps some ju
nior-high student had got hold of
a microphone somewhere and
was screaming his heart out. As
we walked upstairs, however, the
volume increased.
We stood before the Rudder
Theater entrance and realized it
was the source of our discontent.
Surely this is not the place, we
thought, but the sign did read
Viz-a-go-go, and this was Rudder
Theater. Single-sheet programs
were scattered on a table, littered
down the side with titles such as
Sperm Count.
As we stood there aghast, the
horrible voice continued in ever-
increasing volume, yelling about
how much he hates his woman
and all the things he’d like to do to
her, each sentence underscored
by faint half-hearted lafighter.
My wife and I could not in good
conscience go into that dark hole
of depravity. We left disgusted, our
evening ending on a much uglier
note than it began.
If, as stated in the feature, Viz-
ja-Vu truly represents a showcase
of the top-quality works of the
Vizualization Laboratory, then I
am disgusted that my tuition and
fees go to support this kind of ac
tivity. In addition, The Battalion
would do well to fully research
the stories it publishes in the fu
ture, and provide warnings about
vulgar content.
B. Kyle Henderson
graduate student