| Not long ago, when I was an
undergraduate and working for Florida State’s campus newspaper, I often was able to
watch the Seminoles practice — or as much as Bobby Bowden would allow, usually the
last 30-45 minutes or so. And more times than not, few people were allowed in. Usually
just media members, maybe a family member or two or random university types. Sometimes
during spring practice and on occasion during the fall, the team would move across the
street from the practice fields to scrimmage in FSU’s hallowed shrine, Doak Campbell
Stadium.
Other than the annual Garnet and Gold scrimmage to culminate the end of spring
practice, the general public wasn’t allowed to watch practice. A security guard on
top of the bridge that overlooked the practice fields would ask passers-by to politely
keep moving. A handful of fans may have been able to sneak into an occasional scrimmage
inside the stadium, but not many.
And let me tell you, watching players from a major program run and hit and block in an
empty stadium that regularly packs 80,000 sun-drenched fans for six glorious Saturdays
every fall is quite odd. That is the best way to put it, really. It may not be odd for the
coaches or players because they are, quite naturally, absorbed in everything happening on
the field of play. The senses for the rest of us, however, were allowed to wander. You
could hear things you couldn’t hear during a game (grunts and groans, swearing,
defensive calls, referees, etc.). You could see things you couldn’t see during a game
(when no one is offering you nachos or asking you how they made that last first down,
it’s amazing how much more you assimilate during the course of the game). You picked
up on things you wouldn’t have been aware of during a game (who missed a block, why
the coach is upset and just how physical each and every play is).
In case you’re curious as to where I’m going with this, I recently got to
thinking about what an NFL game completely void of fans would be like. The Charleston
Riverdogs, headed by promotional showman Mike Veeck, son of Bill, who once sent a midget
to bat in the majors, played the Columbus RedStixx Monday in front of a grand attendance
of zero.
The Class A Tampa Bay Devil Rays affiliate called it "Nobody Night," a
promotion designed to try to set the record for professional baseball’s lowest
attendance.
Of course, locking the gates and setting up a parking-lot party with discounted food
and drinks didn’t hurt their cause. Only members of the media, scouts and employees
were allowed into the park. Peanut, beer and hot dog vendors roamed the stands during the
game just for fun, and the fans were allowed in after the game was declared official at
the conclusion of the fifth inning.
Working for a professional football magazine, my immediate thoughts turned to the sport
I cover. Imagine if an NFL game pulled the same stunt, even eliminating the TV coverage.
Think about it: There would be no guys holding up those big parabolic microphone dish
things on the sideline, no photographers cramming the back of the endzone, no blimps in
the sky, no wave making its way through the crowd.
Would the cheerleaders still put on those fake smiles as they look to the stands? Would
they put on the gobs of makeup? Would they even notice the stands were empty?
What about the players? I can’t imagine them dancing in the endzone or doing a
first-down point when no one is around to show off for. Would a linebacker taunt his
opponent when he stops a running back on third down if he knew it wouldn’t be on
"SportsCenter" or it wouldn’t get the crowd going? I realize many of them
are playing for their football lives on almost a weekly basis, but wouldn’t it be
naïve to think that some players may not play quite as hard if no one, not in the stands
or around the country, is watching?
Perhaps the one aspect that would be the strangest for the players would be the lack of
crowd noise. The impact of the crowd and energy fans provide is substantial. If you
don’t believe me, try attending a Vanderbilt-Ball State game and then a Florida
State-Florida game and tell me what the most dramatic difference is between the two.
Football is undoubtedly the sport at the top of the list as far as home-field advantage
because of the crowd factor and the constant intensity in the game. It’s a rush.
I’ve heard it time and time again, players praising the home crowd in the locker room
after a game, saying how much the people in the stands were able to give them a lift.
Back at FSU, the players were still jacked up when they scrimmaged in an empty stadium,
but that was mainly because a lot of them were playing for depth-chart supremacy. I
don’t think an NFL game would change all that much if the stadium were empty, but it
would seem awfully weird for those involved. If an NFL team ever attempted such a
"promotion," and rest assured, it won’t, I can guarantee you the vendors
would hear plenty of conversations they would otherwise have been immune to. Being able to
stand on the sideline during some games in college allowed me to enter a world I
didn’t know existed. By that I mean I couldn’t believe how much players talk on
the field. At the guy across from them, to teammates or coaches, to themselves or to no
one in particular. And then during those closed scrimmages, when no deafening roar from
the crowd was present to drown out the vast majority of it, the experience was
unbelievable. You could hear shouts of encouragement from the sideline, coaches yelling
adjustments at the last second, shouts of pain and aggression, verbal threats that might
not even make the cut at HBO, etc. The vendors and stadium employees would be in for a
treat, I’m telling you.
"I understood what was going on, but you know a couple of guys said, 'We're
professional athletes. It kind of stinks not to have fans there the whole time cheering
you on," Riverdogs pitcher John Vigue said. "In a way you feed off the energy of
the crowd. Even though sometimes they get on you, it's all part of the game."
Indeed it is, John. It’s part of the game, but it was lost in Charleston. And it's
a part of the game that should be cherished, especially in football. |
