Mexican Football

     A typical NFL game sequence goes something like this. I describe the hypothetical action.

At 4:00 pm EST, a camera zooms in on an announcer of ambiguous ethnicity, all the better to bridge the action between the predominantly black players and the predominantly white viewers.
        "An unseasonably cool day in the Amazon Jungle. Mike Amico and Jim Elton coming to you live from Monterrey, Mexico. This matchup features two highly competitive teams, the hard-hitting Dakota Drillers verse the upstart Monterrey Arroyos. Really a toss-up here Jim, the electrifying Arroyos offense against the stout Driller defense." The camera zooms out, and slowly reveals that the color commentator is sitting surprisingly close to the play by play man, on stools that almost touch. The color guy is a leathery man, clearly a veteran of many Sunday battles.
"I agree with you Mark. We're in the month of December now, only four games left. These teams both know what's at stake. They're both fighting for playoff berths and we know how much harder that gets in December when it is cold."
"Yes folks, even in Monterrey it's cold, only 35 degrees. They're telling me that's as bad as it gets down here."
"That polar vortex keeps getting stronger Mike, every year."
"Well, I don't usually like to talk weather, but the team that wins this game is the team that can rise above the high pressure and play some playoff-caliber football. Coming to you live, it's the NFL on FOX."
         A trumpet blares the opening salvo of FOX's NFL theme--ba de ba de baaa-- and crescendos in glorious cacophony. This triumphant music is followed by a solemn announcement, uttered in an impossibly deep voice--"This copyrighted broadcast is the property of the National Football League. Any rebroadcast or reproduction without the consent of the NFL is strictly pro-hib-ited."
         Action shifts to the field. The teams line up on opposite sides, two armies of eleven clothed in battle armor. The kicker places the ball on the 35 yard line--laces out! He walks back, takes two steps to the side, and raises his hand skywards, a signal to the Gods and his snarling teammates. He lowers his hand and strides toward the ball and sends it spinning majestically toward the end zone 65 yards away. His teammates, masters of momentum, trace the arc of the ball, and like retrievers, hurtle along after it, oblivious of any obstacle. The ball continues to fly--past the kick returners, over the end zone, off the crossbar. The Arroyos start their drive at the 20 yard line after the touchback.
         
The camera remains on field.  The ex-player's gravely voice breaks the silence. "This kickoff reminded me of something I've been thinking about lately. About 50% of kickoffs result in touchbacks now that the NFL moved the ball up to 35 yard line from the 30. This percentage would be higher, but many returners run the ball out from deep in their end zone simply because they're bored of just standing there. These guys want to earn their paycheck. Now, what about moving the touchback from the 20 up to the 25 yard line. That would encourage the kicker to opt for the iron and hit an approach shot, rather than just going for the driver. And if that doesn't work, keep moving the touchback up."
         "Heck, you could make it more interesting," Jim Elton continued. "Make a kickoff that goes through the uprights worth three points, same as a field goal. It's much harder to do of course, I've only seen it once or twice, but it could add a little wrinkle, and who knows with the level of athletes these days."
     The Arroyos jog onto the field to the roar of the homefield faithful who need no further encouragement from the neon signs that tell them to "Get Loud." The Drillers defense takes a strange delight in the noise. Their brash 'backers raise their hands up, encouraging the crowd to get even louder. The crowd responds with vehement boos, but in doing so, satisfy their gestured request. The backs exchange low fives and chest bumps, their dreadlocks jangling with every movement. The stout lineman settle into their stances staring intently at some fixed point ahead only they can see. It is they who have to do war in the trenches.
       The quarterback Randall Dawson takes his place behind center. His tall chiseled figure commands attention as he barks out orders. A player runs across the formation, the running back moves two steps to his right. The ball snaps. Offensive lineman leap backwards, fending off their charges. Dawson fakes a hand off to the running back, turns around, and scans down field. Nobody.
       He shuffles in the pocket. He somehow senses pressure from behind and ducks. A leviathan soars over him, groping empty air. Dawson runs; to the left, leaving defenders and grass divots in his wake. He pump fakes, and a closing linebacker leaves his feet, reaching for the simulated pass. Fooled.
    Dawson cuts right past the linebacker. A defensive back nears. Dawson slows down, as if preparing for a slide. The back hesitates. All of a sudden, Dawson accelerates and stiff arming his opponent, gains ten more yards before the back brings him down, arms draped around the larger quarterback.
"I'm going to hit you next time," he says.
Dawson looks down at the smaller player. "Bring it," he says.
     "Dawson with a gain of 34 yards. Arroyos ball in Drillers territory, and, Jim, a strong start by the man fans call R2D2."
"You said it Mark. What speed, what vision from the young QB. I mean, how did he see DaMascus Miller coming off the edge? I know it's only his third year in the league, but Mark, he's got to be considered one of the best QBs in the game. R2D2 is the human cyborg." They laugh.
    "And here we go, first and ten on Dakota's 46. Dawson lines up under shotgun this time. Gets the snap, fakes the handoff, drops back--he's got a man open. It's Kenny Richt! An over the shoulder catch and the big guy lumbers downfield. He could go all the way. Ooh and a low hit and Richt cartwheels through the air. That did not look good and he's in some pain right now. He did not see Robinson coming." FOX rolls the replay in slow motion; a helmet zooms in from the left of the picture and makes contact flush with the knee. The knee absorbs the force and bends inward in response.

       "You hate to see that Jim." Mark looks over at his color commentator.
         "Yeah you do. That hit is happening more and more in today's NFL and I don't want to blame it all on the rule changes. The rule change now states that you can't hit a defenseless receiver in the head, which I agree with. That doesn't mean you need to launch yourself like a missile at someone's knees. You don't have to lead with your head. Whatever happened to form tackling? It's not safe to tackle with your head. Imagine playing this sport without pads. Would people be launching into each other like rams in mating season?"
       "Yes, it is sad to see a player like Richt go down. He's not a guy who dominates the stat sheet, but every year he plays the game well and his teammates admire that. We'll take a break during this injury timeout."
     The coverage switches from football to ads promoting car insurance, cars, and of course, beer. After the ads fade out, the camera shows Richt being driven off the field in a golf cart. He waves to the crowd who cheer mournfully in response. Dawson gathers his teammates in the huddle. The ball is at the 13 yard line. All of them know their season could be over as quickly as Richt's, but it seems like a reality far removed from theirs. It's like when you're healthy, you don't know what it feels like to be sick and when you're sick you wonder how you never fully appreciated your health. Richt, in the labyrinth of tunnels underneath the stadium looks back at a replay of himself 10 minutes ago. He is carted into the training room where another TV shows the action.
    "Third and thirty one at the 34 yard line. An incompletion, the rare offensive facemask and a big sack have set the Arroyos back here."
     "Yeah, I'd expect a screen pass or a draw play here from Monterrey. A field goal from this distance is asking a lot from their kicker," says Jim.
     "Dawson back in the shotgun. Three receivers to his right, one to his left, Marlaveous Maxton, the marvelous rookie receiver. Dawson corrals the snap. The guards pull to the right. Looks like a screen. Dawson pump fakes and he's got defenders all over him. And he throws it up. Maxton's there. No signal yet. Touchdown!"
     "Oh my, how Dawson escape that pressure! And then, to have the strength to throw with a defender all over him. And what a catch by Maxton! The best play I've seen all year."
       Cannons boom. The sombreroed Monterrey mascot, astride a blue horse, twirls a lasso above his head. But wait! The head umpire walks slowly to the middle of the field. After struggling with his beeper device, he announces that "The play is under further review." But, he hasn't quite mastered the technology, and the message is garbled and hard to understand. But, either way, everyone knows they're reviewing the touchdown. FOX rolls the replay to the televised audience.
   "There are two questions here Mark; did he get both feet inbounds? And did he maintain possession as he went out of bounds? Here we go, one foot inbounds and he drags the other; two feet in. Okay now, does he maintain control? Yes-- he somehow kept his arm between the ball and the ground. That ball did not budge. What a catch by the rookie receiver!"
     The TV breaks to more ads; a lengthy one for erectile dysfunction, a promotion for upcoming network shows, an ad for a pickup truck, and another beer spot. 3 minutes later, the coverage shifts back to the game, where the ref still hasn't made a decision. Just what is he looking at underneath that hood? Does he watch porn to clear his head before making a big call? Did that Viagra commercial touch an inner chord?
    The commentators awkwardly discuss their holiday plans.
   "Oh so you're taking Holly and the kids to ski? Remember to keep your hands warm! I got frostbite last year on the top of Vail. Not that I should have been up there in the first place. "
       Dawson talks to his coach, a man with a curved hat and a large headset. The return man has his helmet on and jumps up and down, shaking his arms. The ump now walks back to the center of the field, zipping up his fly--he left it open down the middle! What a schlub.
    "After further review, the ruling on the field has been confirmed. Touchdown." The crowd erupts in joyous noise, cheering the end of the delay as much as the touchdown. On the sidelines they get ready to do it again, one step closer to playoffs.