The Enumerative: OUR Fan Code of Conduct

Welcome to our incredibly innovative ↵feature, The Enumerative. Because lists are awesome, plus effective ↵time killers, in this space we'll provide a top five based loosely on ↵something that has recently occurred in the sporting world. It's ↵compiled by Chris Mottram and Spencer Hall, unless otherwise noted.
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Roger Goodell does not want you to attend NFL games in person. ↵

↵At least, that’s the only conclusion we can draw from the NFL Fan Code of Conduct that was released yesterday, which basically reads like a list of reasons not to spend hundreds of dollars to trek to the stadium on Sundays. No getting drunk? No trash talking to the opposition? No taking off your shirt, running onto the field and tackling the place kicker as he lines up an extra point? ↵

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↵Alright, so that last one’s a good thing, but the rest is garbage. Total nonsense. Ruling over the players with an iron fist is one thing, but we will not stand for Goodell attempting to suck the fun out of the fan experience. So to you, Mr. Goodell, may we present a counter offer, if you will. We’ve rolled your Code of Conduct manuscript into a ball and stowed it away for the next time we run out of toilet paper, and re-written it to represent what best serves us -- the people who are paying $75 to sit three-miles from the field and drink $8.50 beers. In other words ... ↵

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↵Dear Mr. Goodell, ↵

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↵Your list sucks. Please see our revisions below. ↵

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↵Love,
↵The good people who pay your salary ↵

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↵Get Intoxicated Beyond Your Wildest Dreams. You logged 65 hours this week trying to lock up that sale to your most prized client, you had that work function with the Mrs. on Tuesday night, went straight from an 11-hour day to the kid’s Little League game on Thursday and spent half the day yesterday at Home Depot and the other half on that fun little drywall project in the basement. But now, it’s Sunday my man, and you’re going to the game. And the “stadium personnel,” nor Roger Goodell, nor Jesus Christ Himself, can stop you from getting drunk. You’re getting good and completely blacked out wasted. This is your one day away from the wife and the kids and all the other harsh realities of life, so enjoy it. If you were going just to actually watch the damn game, you’d stay home, save a couple hundred bills and have a better view of the whole thing on your 47-inch HDTV. ↵

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↵Trash Talk EVERYONE.
The fans, the seats, the concessions. “You call yourself nachos, HUH? You suck. All of you. Your team, the grass, you, your wife, and your mother. And don't get me started on Parcells.” We have a lot of built up aggression from the work week that we must get out in a non-violent, yet verbally abusive manner. ↵

↵Be Disruptive. This is a football game, not the opera. Yell, clap, stomp, chant, whistle, whatever, so long as it doesn’t involve an air horn (this is football, not futbol) and you aren’t yelling at the people standing up in front of you. If you take issue with people disrupting your view by standing, then go home and watch from your La-Z-Boy – you aren’t a real fan anyway. ↵

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↵Mind the Youngin’s. Obviously, when kids are involved, we must use a certain amount of common sense and restraint. If you see a youngster lingering in your vicinity, holster that flask and cease all trash talking. Unless he is wearing the colors of the opposition, in which case you need to let the kid know that what daddy is doing is considered child abuse. Urge him to call his local child protective services as soon as your team is finished whopping his team’s ass. ↵

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↵Mock the NFL at Every Step. You created this beast, Johnny Lunchpail. You bought the tickets. You built the stadiums. Your hard-earned dollars pay for every lap dance, every crashed sports car, and every gold-plated bathtub bought by every overpaid player out there. If an usher asks you to do anything unreasonable, simply refuse, and extend your middle finger to the nearest camera with a red light on it. Unreasonable things include putting on your shirt, sitting down, putting down the lit road flares you're holding in hand, and refusal to stop punching the freakin' Raiders fan in front of you. ↵

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This post originally appeared on the Sporting Blog. For more, see The Sporting Blog Archives.

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