Stupid Question ™
Aug. 1, 2002
By John Ruch
© 2002
Q: How did a small town like La Rue, Ohio get a pro football team back in the old days?
—Oorang Bang
A: “Professional football” today means top-notch players and a powerful league that essentially creates teams almost exclusively in large metropolitan areas.
But technically, all “professional” really means is that the players get paid a salary for competing. And pro football of a century ago was mostly an unskilled, small-town phenomenon bearing little resemblance to the giant industry it spawned.
Football was basically invented by the Ivy League colleges between 1820 and 1880, and college football became a very popular national sport.
This inspired “independent football”—amateur teams made up of average Joes, typically organized in small- or medium-sized industrial towns, particularly in Pennsylvania and the Midwest. They played on Sundays because most of them had to work in the factories on Saturdays.
Teams were often organized by local athletic clubs, businesses or politicians. The Columbus [Ohio] Panhandles consisted mostly of workers in the Panhandle Division of the Pennsylvania Railroad, and the Akron [Ohio] Burkhardts were named after the brewery that sponsored them.
The local Catholic parish started Youngstown, Ohio’s team. A Racine, Wisconsin team was the local Army reserve unit.
Football didn’t remain a purely local sport for long. Teams rapidly moved to hiring ex-college players as mercenaries to help win big games. The first known case of this “semi-professional” style was in 1892, when the Pittsburgh Allegheny Athletic Association hired ex-Yale All-American William Heffelfinger and paid him under the table. (Playing for pay was considered extremely sleazy.)
The inevitable next step was to pack the team with mercenary outsiders and hire them on for the whole season, thus creating true professional sports teams.
This was only feasible in teams with rivalries that drew huge numbers of fans. Surprisingly, big cities like Chicago and Detroit did not spawn these great rivalries. Instead, it was nearby small towns that loved to hate each other.
The most famous rivalry that led directly to all-pro teams was the Ohio hatefest between the Canton Bulldogs and the Massillon Tigers. By 1915, Massillon had hired Knute Rockne; Canton responded by signing former Olympian Jim Thorpe for a then-incredible $250 per game. Both teams filled their rosters with ex-collegiate players.
When the American Professional Football Association (later the National Football League) formed in 1920, it consisted mostly of such small-town teams. (Indeed, founder George Halas was managing and playing on the Decatur Staleys, a starch company’s team.)
In all of this, the La Rue-based Oorang Indians were a special case, a novelty act formed after the NFL’s establishment, but one that operated in the typical independent-football mold.
The Indians really were Indians—an all-Native American team headed by Thorpe and sponsored by a company that sold puppies through the mail. It lasted only one year (1922-23) and played only one “home” game (in Marion).
It took the Depression to kill small-town teams; ever since, pro football has been almost exclusively the province of deep-pocketed big cities.
Showing posts with label football sports. Show all posts
Showing posts with label football sports. Show all posts
March 28, 2008
March 27, 2008
College Football Game Attendance
Stupid Question ™
Nov. 26, 1998
By John Ruch
© 1998
Q: How do they come up with an attendance number for Ohio State University football games?
—George Bizer
A: Well, imagine you’re in a playground penis-measuring contest—and stretching is allowed.
Consider two numbers.
Ohio Stadium seating capacity: 89,841.
Lowest attendance at an Ohio State University (OSU) football game this season: 93,149.
Yes, on its slowest day this year, Ohio Stadium somehow held 3,308 more people than it has seats for.
But the ’Shoe can do better than that. Its highest attendance this year was 94,339 at Saturday’s Michigan game. Record attendance is 95,537 during the 1995 Notre Dame game.
In fact, since at least 1989, an average of 4,000 extra people have somehow materialized at OSU games.
What’s the Pythagorean secret to these numbers? D.C. Koehl, an assistant sports information director at OSU, admitted to Suburban News Publications in 1990 that the ticket office simply counts everybody who’s “still breathing.”
First, all tickets sold are counted, whether they’re actually used or not (and thus, whether the buyers are “still breathing” or not). Nobody counts stubs. Since OSU regularly has sold-out games, that means the attendance figure often starts at 89,841.
Then they add in the rosters of everybody else in the stadium. That includes ushers, security guards, hot-dog sellers, media, band members, coaches and even the players themselves. Brutus Buckeye, too, apparently.
It’s a sneakily broad interpretation of “attendance” that turns even quarterback Joe Germaine into an attendance stat.
Nobody would go to such ridiculous lengths to inflate attendance numbers if it wasn’t part of a national bigger-is-better contest, which, of course, it is.
The University of Michigan’s “Big House” has the largest seating capacity of any US college stadium at 107,501. This September, it also hosted the largest crowd ever at a college football game: 111,012. The second-biggest college football crowd was 107,608 at a 1996 Tennessee game—in a stadium that seats 102,654.
Surprisingly, pro teams don’t play this sort of game.
“We just go by the total tickets distributed—that’s the total number sold or given away,” said a spokesperson for the Cincinnati Bengals ticket office. “It’s basically the way the league does it.”
While nobody counts stubs at NFL games, either, they also don’t count anyone but the fans. In fact, the Bengals guy was amazed by my description of OSU’s process: “How do they do it again?”
OSU will score even better bragging rights in 2001, when stadium renovations give the ’Shoe another 8,000 seats. That’ll boost capacity to 97,841.
Or should I say to 101,841?
Nov. 26, 1998
By John Ruch
© 1998
Q: How do they come up with an attendance number for Ohio State University football games?
—George Bizer
A: Well, imagine you’re in a playground penis-measuring contest—and stretching is allowed.
Consider two numbers.
Ohio Stadium seating capacity: 89,841.
Lowest attendance at an Ohio State University (OSU) football game this season: 93,149.
Yes, on its slowest day this year, Ohio Stadium somehow held 3,308 more people than it has seats for.
But the ’Shoe can do better than that. Its highest attendance this year was 94,339 at Saturday’s Michigan game. Record attendance is 95,537 during the 1995 Notre Dame game.
In fact, since at least 1989, an average of 4,000 extra people have somehow materialized at OSU games.
What’s the Pythagorean secret to these numbers? D.C. Koehl, an assistant sports information director at OSU, admitted to Suburban News Publications in 1990 that the ticket office simply counts everybody who’s “still breathing.”
First, all tickets sold are counted, whether they’re actually used or not (and thus, whether the buyers are “still breathing” or not). Nobody counts stubs. Since OSU regularly has sold-out games, that means the attendance figure often starts at 89,841.
Then they add in the rosters of everybody else in the stadium. That includes ushers, security guards, hot-dog sellers, media, band members, coaches and even the players themselves. Brutus Buckeye, too, apparently.
It’s a sneakily broad interpretation of “attendance” that turns even quarterback Joe Germaine into an attendance stat.
Nobody would go to such ridiculous lengths to inflate attendance numbers if it wasn’t part of a national bigger-is-better contest, which, of course, it is.
The University of Michigan’s “Big House” has the largest seating capacity of any US college stadium at 107,501. This September, it also hosted the largest crowd ever at a college football game: 111,012. The second-biggest college football crowd was 107,608 at a 1996 Tennessee game—in a stadium that seats 102,654.
Surprisingly, pro teams don’t play this sort of game.
“We just go by the total tickets distributed—that’s the total number sold or given away,” said a spokesperson for the Cincinnati Bengals ticket office. “It’s basically the way the league does it.”
While nobody counts stubs at NFL games, either, they also don’t count anyone but the fans. In fact, the Bengals guy was amazed by my description of OSU’s process: “How do they do it again?”
OSU will score even better bragging rights in 2001, when stadium renovations give the ’Shoe another 8,000 seats. That’ll boost capacity to 97,841.
Or should I say to 101,841?
Football Fields Oriented North-South
Stupid Question ™
Sept. 24, 1998
By John Ruch
© 1998
Q: Why do all football fields run north-south?
—J.E.R.
A: Ah, if only all football fields did run north-south. Then I could give you the obvious answer—to keep the setting Sun out of players’ eyes—and be done with it.
Most football fields have their end zones in the north and south, but some don’t, and both the National Football League and the Pro Football Hall of Fame says they’ve never even noticed the north-south thing. (The NFL has no rules on stadium orientation.)
Of the 30 US professional football teams, 21 (70 percent) play on north-south fields. This distribution is not random and must have some significant value—Sun-avoidance being the most obvious.
But a full 30 percent run east-west, which paradoxically suggests that north-south can’t be that important. Even if we presume Sun avoidance is critical and take domed stadiums out of the equation (most were built whichever way they fit on the real estate), that still leaves six east-west fields open to the Sun (Philadelphia, Buffalo, San Diego, Kansas City, Carolina and Baltimore).
Likewise, of 10 major college teams I talked to, eight have north-south fields—the universities of Washington and North Carolina don’t.
Strangest of all, half of the 33 teams I asked about field orientation said there was no reason for it. The second most popular answer was keeping sun out of players’ eyes.
Among the east-westers, the Carolina Panthers say it’s the only way their field fit on the land. The University of Washington says it wanted its horseshoe-shaped stadium to open onto Lake Washington for looks. Others had no answer, except to say that the Sun didn’t bother their players.
The Sun sure bothers other sports. Columbus [Ohio] Crew spokesperson Jeff Wuerth says soccer fields almost always run north-south so the goalkeeper isn’t staring into the Sun. In the Crew’s under-construction stadium, “the upper-deck reserve tickets on the west side are a dollar more than on the east side,” because the east-siders will have the setting Sun in their eyes.
In football’s pre-stadium days, north-south orientation would keep the Sun out of players’ eyes. But in a giant stadium, in the fall and winter, the decks are high while the Sun is low in the sky. And with modern technology, visors can be added to receivers’ helmets to cut what little sun can get in.
My guess is that north-south was a necessity that faded into an unnecessary tradition.
Of course, if Green Bay, which plays in north-south Lambeau Field, blames the Sun after getting drilled by the Panthers in Carolina’s east-west field next Sunday, I’ll have to reconsider.
Sept. 24, 1998
By John Ruch
© 1998
Q: Why do all football fields run north-south?
—J.E.R.
A: Ah, if only all football fields did run north-south. Then I could give you the obvious answer—to keep the setting Sun out of players’ eyes—and be done with it.
Most football fields have their end zones in the north and south, but some don’t, and both the National Football League and the Pro Football Hall of Fame says they’ve never even noticed the north-south thing. (The NFL has no rules on stadium orientation.)
Of the 30 US professional football teams, 21 (70 percent) play on north-south fields. This distribution is not random and must have some significant value—Sun-avoidance being the most obvious.
But a full 30 percent run east-west, which paradoxically suggests that north-south can’t be that important. Even if we presume Sun avoidance is critical and take domed stadiums out of the equation (most were built whichever way they fit on the real estate), that still leaves six east-west fields open to the Sun (Philadelphia, Buffalo, San Diego, Kansas City, Carolina and Baltimore).
Likewise, of 10 major college teams I talked to, eight have north-south fields—the universities of Washington and North Carolina don’t.
Strangest of all, half of the 33 teams I asked about field orientation said there was no reason for it. The second most popular answer was keeping sun out of players’ eyes.
Among the east-westers, the Carolina Panthers say it’s the only way their field fit on the land. The University of Washington says it wanted its horseshoe-shaped stadium to open onto Lake Washington for looks. Others had no answer, except to say that the Sun didn’t bother their players.
The Sun sure bothers other sports. Columbus [Ohio] Crew spokesperson Jeff Wuerth says soccer fields almost always run north-south so the goalkeeper isn’t staring into the Sun. In the Crew’s under-construction stadium, “the upper-deck reserve tickets on the west side are a dollar more than on the east side,” because the east-siders will have the setting Sun in their eyes.
In football’s pre-stadium days, north-south orientation would keep the Sun out of players’ eyes. But in a giant stadium, in the fall and winter, the decks are high while the Sun is low in the sky. And with modern technology, visors can be added to receivers’ helmets to cut what little sun can get in.
My guess is that north-south was a necessity that faded into an unnecessary tradition.
Of course, if Green Bay, which plays in north-south Lambeau Field, blames the Sun after getting drilled by the Panthers in Carolina’s east-west field next Sunday, I’ll have to reconsider.