Maybe I'm just thinking about it too much, but as we head into another weekend of NFL football and I am bombarded by headlines about how this is the week that Washington is going to turn things around, I can't help seeing the racist parallels underlying the NFL.  Let me put this out there first:  I love NFL football.  I love the level of play, the city v. city rivalries, the trash talking and the media circus.  I have very few complaints about the leauge, its values, its marketing, or its leaders.

However...  When you stop to think about it, the league really should be the subject of a sociology essay.

First, the NFL teams are all owned by wealthy individuals.  They're called "owners."  These owners are trying to make a profit, although some years are better than others based on the labor of their players.  

The NFL players are largely an African American population that has risen through the ranks of college and proven themselves athletic enough to compete.  Each year, on the owners' behalf, the teams' staff take turns picking the biggest and strongest players to join their team.  They trade with one another, weighing heavily NFL Combine stats like weight, height, speed and strength.   This NFL marketplace gives the owners the talent they need to win games, draw fans and make a profit.

On gamedays, there are several officials maintaining order on the field.  These men, generally older and white, flag and penalize players for breaking the rules.   The owners and league officials themselves are not on the field, so they count on officials to keep the game running smoothly and the fans interested.

On the field, the players are each assigned a number.  They are dressed in pads and a helmet that blocks any view of their face.  Defined by their job on the field and an aribitrary number, their merit is based on productivity.

Lastly, when an injury occurs, the focus is not on the player's health.  Instead, the public debates when he will be back to a productive level.  Here in DC, Clinton Portis is seen as the salvation to offensive woes.  With his injury behind him, he's ready to play again--for the Redskins... but that's another debate.

These are just some thoughts that have been running through my head recently.  Feel free to agree, disagree, comment and curse me below. 

Cute puppy, you say?  Meet the newest edition to my family: Dylan.  My parents get him on Saturday from a breeder in Kentucky.  He's an Australian labradoodle and should grow to about 35 pounds.  I think it's a subtle ploy by my parents to get my brother and I to come home more often.  It's working.  See the video of dylan and his bros and sisters here.

Those of you who knew Scooter, I hope this will get you past the sorrow of him leaving his spot on the stairs.   If you're in CH, I highly recommend you visit this pup as he wreaks havok on our house.

This post is almost sickeningly sweet, so I'll probably have to balance it out with one about death metal or people getting hurt on video.  Stay tuned.