An American football game

The year is a couple years ago. I am nineteen, and on my first trip stateside. Michael Moore, whom I was forced to watch in English class, once said in an interview that he omitted some details about the Scandinavian prison environment from his documentary “where to invade next” because American audiences simply wouldn’t have believed it. Here I am, a Scandinavian in rural Illinois, facing the opposite dilemma. Everything about this trip is so unbelievably American, in an honestly mostly negative way. Not all negative, but mostly. I tried so hard to be open-minded and delete all stereotypes from my brain before landing in Chicago airport, only to have them continuously confirmed from the moment I landed. My boyfriend’s former host family, who we were staying with, wanted to drive us somewhere we could walk to in five minutes (on a sidewalk, no “b-but walkability!” excuse). “Freedom Gas Station” is adorned with a Liberian flag. One house makes it clear that it roots for Trump in 2024, while his neighbor believes that love is love and water is life. There are three fast food chain options in a town of less than 2000 and all three are delicious. Yet the most American experience, except perhaps the party where we started target shooting cans for fun, was yet to come.

One day, we headed to the nearest college town to watch a local football game. Or, we’re driven, because neither me nor my boyfriend can drive, which of course is a serious handicap. I knew so little about this American pastime that until earlier that same year, I thought the Super Bowl was a bowling competition, but I figured it must work the same as all the other ball sports. Run (or ice skate, or gallop) around the field, get the ball in the goal.

It didn’t. But that didn’t really matter.

Live American football games are so overwhelming, so overstimulating, so much that I really struggle to explain it in words. I figure it must be like what old people feel TikTok is like. No wonder the ADD boyfriend I was with loved it. American football is not only football, but approximately 10 other things happening in the span of a couple minutes. Because the game constantly pauses (?), something must happen during the breaks.

It was freezing cold. American winters are, in many areas, notably more harsh than Southern Scandinavia, which is where the vast majority of us live. The cheerleaders were in leggings, gloves and scarves with the team logo on it. But the sexy dancing girls were not.

One type of dancing girl is apparently not enough, so during one of the constant breaks, a different group of way more scantily clad dancers popped out of their blanket cocoons and started a short performance to an outdated pop song. They gave it their all, and I enjoyed it thoroughly. I do agree with the Americans in that respect - the more sexy dancers, the better. The entrepreneurial, always striving, never satisfied, spirit of the American people strikes yet again. You invented cheerleading and still thought, no, not enough. You don’t consider yourself Icarus, able to fly too close to the sun; after all, you’ve already gone to the moon.

Another break. I’m trying desperately to make sense of the game but failing. Luckily, buff military dudes come to the rescue. They’re starting to do push ups on the side of the playing field. The audience is informed that Guy 1 graduated from this university two years ago and is now proudly serving in the navy, while Guy 2 is doing some kind of joint military and college program right now. We all clap and cheer at their push-ups and their service.

During the game, we’re treated to uplifting orchestral music from a uniformed band, interspersed with cheerleaders cheering, outdated pop songs and enthusiastic commentary from someone who is sponsored by Toyota. I know this because he will end every other sentence with “and a Toyotaaaaa!”. As in: “the Redbirds are coming back strong, and a Toyotaaaaaaa!”. At first I thought I had misunderstood, this isn’t my first language and I’m tired and distracted. But no, that was just how they chose to integrate the sponsorship, and I respect that immensely. No nonsense. No hiding. Also, how did they get Toyota to sponsor a game with two minor teams and and audience of at most 300 people? I don’t care. But I loved it.

I almost forget there’s even a game happening. I’m hooked to see in which corner of the field another random seeming group of people will pop and dance or do push ups. The points, shown on a big screen, are way higher than what I’m used to in the other types of sportsball (this, I have learned, is what Americans who don’t care about sports call it. I think that is hilarious and I will steal it). I’ve finished my pretzel bites, a fulfilling snack consisting of the whitest, softest dough I’ve ever put in my mouth. The “cheese” dip I got to accompany them was downright awful, though.

Now, there’s a long break, similar to what I already know from real football. I wanted to grab more pretzel bites, but right as I’m about to get seated, the band starts to march down the field. It’s a diverse orchestra with a wide array of instruments. Next, what I can only describe as the “flag girls” come in. They carry long strips of colored fabric on sticks that they do tricks and formations with. It’s not very entertaining, but it’s somewhat heartwarming. In the US, I learned while there, there’s a stereotype about “band kids” as being nerdy and awkward. In this activity, they’ve managed to include not only the jocks and the pretty girls, but also the sexy girls, the flag girls, the military and the nerds. There’s a great sense of community and togetherness. It’s a small game with two pretty unknown teams, but there’s nothing humble about it. Americans don’t do humble. They do great. And everyone is allowed to participate in this project of greatness, in their own way.

All in all, I cannot recommend this experience highly enough. Whether you’re a tourist like me or a born and bred American who’s just a sportsball hater, do consider going to a local college American football game. There’s something for everyone in there. Even if you hate balls and pretty girls and sexy girls and the military industrial complex and the education system, you get to laugh at the absurdity of it all. And unlike when watching a soccer game, you’re at no risk of getting a beer bottle smashed in your head.