COURTESY DREAMWORKS Tigers and Romans and gladiators, oh my!

From the Sidelines

Let blood and circuses reign!

Americans lust for blood. We teach our children to revere men with glandular problems who dress up in bright colors and break each other's bones while bearing emblems of cartoon animals and marginalized peoples. Then, we deliver products endorsed by these grotesque, endorphin-crazed nightmares into their tiny, expectant hands, with the promise that someday they, too, might have the chance to brain their fellow man.

Not that I have a problem with this; it's as American as apple pie and the Vietnam War. But rather than draping it in patriotic crapola and claiming it builds "teamwork" and "national pride," let's admit what we really want: death, destruction, violence, and organ music. Let's embrace the "death drive." Let's make gladiatorial combat our new pastime.

As it is, we're almost there. In New York City, the anti-John Rocker militia has been passing out fliers for the Mets-Braves game at Shea Stadium on Sat., Jun. 30, proclaiming that Mets batteries will be provided "by the No. 7 train riders" so New Yorkers can greet Atlanta's favorite fascist with a shower of AAA projectiles. Meanwhile, Vince McMahon—spiritual father of the World Wrestling Federation (WWF)—has just partnered with NBC—spiritual father of The Cosby Show—to sponsor the "Extreme Football League" (XFL), a variation on the National Football League that promises to be as savage as the Mets are irrelevant. In a plan that has already garnered over $100 million from investors, the XFL will feature the "reality show" immediacy of The Real World: players will be miked and will have "first-person" cameras in their helmets, providing viewers with the virtual experience of a spinal dislocation. Another anticipated provision is the elimination of the "fair catch" rule on punts so players can crush their opponents into ground beef whenever they like. Crucifixions for penalties will be introduced during sweeps week.

This is nothing new. The WWF regularly earns huge ratings through disembowelment on demand from a coterie of Neanderthals who look like they're playing dress-up with some suburban Mommy's workout kit. The appeal of brawlers with colorful appellations like "Mr. Ass" crosses gender and demographic lines, with the resulting paradox that the life stories of The Rock and Mankind share the New York Times non-fiction bestseller list with Tuesdays with Morrie and The Road Less Traveled And the Gladiators franchise, once a mighty force in America, has gained new adherents in Scandinavia, where brave civilians take on Aryan bodybuilders with cool Renaissance Man names like "Nitro," "Blade," "Buzzsaw," and "Zeke."

This summer, Dreamworks SKG will release Russell Crowe's silly action flick, Gladiator, about slaying and laying in ancient Rome. If some enterprising young network executive wants to make it big, he or she will act quickly to set up a National Gladiatorial League (NGL) and seize on free publicity. I recommend that ABC, a network with a disturbing paucity of gore and sadism in their lineup, consider my idea with special interest. CBS already plans to release Survivor, a show in which a bunch of people get stuck on an island in the South China Sea with no food or shelter and, as the press release gleefully notes, an abundance of "poisonous coral snakes." The WB, meanwhile, is reworking I Dare You, on which stuntmen will set themselves on fire and jump into shark tanks to convince jaded Nielsen families to tune in.

The idea of the NGL is simple. Each week, some interest group can take on a rival the old-fashioned way: in a fight to the death, with swords and blood and hacked limbs (which would make nifty souvenirs for auction on eBay). Since we have proven that we have no interest as a nation in debating differences of opinion—perhaps most recently in the circus maximus of the Elián González "town meetings" in Miami —it's probably best to get down to brass tacks. Nothing spells moral righteousness, or ratings gold, like holding an opponent's beating heart dripping over his corpse.

There will be no shortage of contestants. A nerd horde has trained itself for combat over the years by beheading all sorts of demons and soldiers in Internet free-for-alls like Doom and Quake, and the U.S. military regularly blows a wad of cash training troops for wars that will never happen. Perhaps the magical lure of $1 million could even be dangled in front of potential combatants. During half-time shows, we can feed Christians, or some modern-day disenfranchised group, to the lions.

Of course, there will be opponents who will protest such a forward-thinking endeavor with all the fervor of the more obnoxious early martyrs. There will come a day, however, when even the XFL, the WWF, and "reality TV" schlock on Fox will fail to satisfy us. And on that blessed morn, we who know that the mores of yesteryear make the pop culture fodder of tomorrow will be waiting with open, and loaded, arms.

Back to Sports...