We arrived at Nichols College at 8pm on Friday night. There was the occasional pack of drunken young things roaming the campus, but on the whole most students appeared disarmingly sober. We parked near a young man who was pissing into a bush, and then descended the large hill to a floodlit football field.
Two teams were battling it out below, in shining helmets and cartoon costumes. All you could hear was the crash of helmets colliding, like rams smashing their horns, the sound of bones breaking. It was a visual representation of good versus evil - Brit's boyfriend's team wore blue and gold and the other side were a sinister black.
We settled ourselves onto the freezing bleachers, and watched as two seconds of play would occur, a whistle would blow, and they would spend about three minutes in "time out". There was much talking, and drama, and not a whole lot of sport.
There had to be about fifty kids on each side - most of them not playing. Each team had four coaches complete with earpieces and mics. And I noticed something that I have been seeing with regularity in this new world: I witnessed the insane confidence and outrageously outgoing behaviour of American beings. Unlike the calm and restrained Confucian ways of Hong Kongers, Americans by contrast let it all out in public. On several occasions grown men would start shouting "F**K!" to themselves in absolute seriousness and bash their heads into the ground. Another dude knelt right in front of the bleachers and started to pray - seemingly oblivious to the 80 people watching him.
Halftime arrived and the teams trekked off the pitch. I noted with annoyance that the cheerleaders were not cheering in the slightest, but sitting around gossiping. Fortunately a man dressed as a ram appeared to liven things up. Then, the players returned like an ancient battle scene - marching in single file from opposing sides and shouting their war cries.
By the time it all ended, our team had lost. It was close - at the last minute the blue and golds managed a touch down - to make it 21/20, but then the young chap wearing bright-green boots missed the kick and victory floated over to the other side of the field.
As we walked back to the car, I thought about how America's sport reflects it's culture: The game has been crafted with frequent breaks for adverts. There is ample opportunity for one individual to break out of the pack, score a touchdown and be a hero. And they wear silly costumes that make them look bigger then they really are. Anyone for ping pong?
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