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 Had enough of silly fight songs
Posted: Friday September 10, 1999 11:50 AM
About a month ago the Carolina Panthers decided that their fight song was so lame they had no other choice but to stop using it during games. I guess when you play in the NFC West and you still finish 4-12, you'll try just about anything to turn things around. Stand and cheer for the Panthers ... goes this gawd-awful corny tune ... Nothing could be finer than to be in Carolina for a Panthers football game. Honestly, can you blame them? This silly fight-song business is all rather hilarious, unless of course, you are Duane Evans of Spartanburg, S.C., the poor sap whose song was just taken out of rotation by Panthers management. Maybe, though, the Panthers are on to something. If I were to be named NFL commissioner tomorrow, after I moved the Bengals to the Arena League, the next item on my agenda would be to get rid of all the stupid, cheesy fight songs in the NFL. I mean, let's face it, fight songs belong in college. They invoke feelings of unabashed pride, borne out of civic duty and collegiate tradition. Does it really make sense, then, to sing one in an NFL stadium where the team is: a) very likely either from another city or gassing up the vans to leave town; b) full of guys with criminal records; and c) robbing you blind with ridiculous ticket prices? I don't know about you, but Leonard Little just makes me want to stand up and sing with pride until my lungs burn. Maybe these songs are just a way to cover up all the booing. How else can you explain: Skol Vikings, let's go?According to my very limited knowledge of the Norse language, skol is a variation of the word skoal, which is a word used in toasts that originated back in the time of the real Vikings, who liked to kill people, boil their craniums and then drink from them like beer steins while hollering the word skoal, as in skull. Bite 'em/Claw 'em/Scratch 'em/Gnaw 'em/Our team will never yield. Apparently, if I heard the lyrics right, the Atlanta Falcons are as much into the consumption of human flesh as the Vikings. These examples make it very clear that anyone can pen a fight song. You just start with some dorky marching-band beat, splash in a few Hails, Go Team Gos and Fights! -- with Yoda-like verbiage like Win we certainly will! -- and rhyme in your hometown and, voilà!, like aerosol dairy products: instant cheese. Sing these songs, you must not, brave NFL Jedi warrior. Marv Levy wrote a fight song for the Chiefs when he coached in Kansas City. Lou Holtz wrote an old Jets fight song, which inspired his team so much it went 3-11. Denny Green penned one in Minnesota. John Modell, Art's son, wrote the Ravens fight song. Flying high, fierce pride in our eye ... for glory we vie and our town will stand high. Oh my, I sigh, forced rhyming makes me cry, or maybe it's just a fly in my eye. For some teams, like the 49ers, the Steelers and Packers, polka is where it's at. I know this because I was at a wedding near Green Bay a few years ago and the most popular song at the reception was the Packer Polka, which, I believe, included the words, Fight, you Packers, fight. Fight and bring the bacon home to Old Green Bay. As a joke I took the mike at the reception, introduced myself as a football expert and, to polk-a little fun at Packer fans, predicted a 35-7 Tampa Bay victory in the playoffs. It took my wife nearly 20 minutes to pull me out of the snow drift in the parking lot. We'll never forget the way you thrilled the nation, with your T-formation. Um, hello Bears fans? I know you have a few fight songs, but this one's a little outdated, no? The Jaguars fight song sounds like it belongs on HBO's Real Sex series. The guys are ready, it's time to be bad/The pressure is building, underneath their pads/The house is rocking, so let's all cheer/Stand up for what you love, 'cause it's all here. They don't all suck. And in a world where Ricky Martin passes for musical talent, it seems a bit unfair to pick on people like Duane Evans or Lou Holtz. The Washington Redskins song is a classic. I've heard a Bills song that's a version of Shout from Animal House. The Bengals rock out with Welcome to the Jungle. (Think how great that will sound when, as NFL commish, I move them inside to the AFL.) Houston has perhaps the catchiest ditty of them all. Stand up now inside your cubicle, your dorm room, your padded cell, and sing it with me, loud and proud. Houston Oilers, Houston Oilers, Houston Oilers, NUMBER ONE! All they need now is a team. Mailbag Having received quite a load of, well, moronic electronic mail last week, I have decided to add something new to the Flemfile lexicon. From now on, when somebody either writes or does something stupid inside our little Internet world, that person shall be referred to as a WHYLO. As in, Who Helped You Log On? Here are a few examples of how to use the term: A while back in a piece on Barry Sanders, I got the year of the Detroit Lions' last championship wrong -- even though I own the team's media guide and it was in black and white not eight inches from my face. When it comes to numbers or math of any kind I am a freakin' WHYLO. A WHYLO is also somebody like the handful of readers who didn't quite catch the 84 layers of sarcasm in last week's Flemfile and e-mailed to complain about my vague, obvious predictions for the upcoming NFL season. People, if I have to dumb this crap down anymore it's gonna sound like local TV news, and nobody wants that. For all the Cowboys fans who WHYLOed about their team being labeled outlaws in last week's Flemfile, I say, the only thing sadder than the Cowboys' behavior this decade is the apparently lobotomized legion of fans out there who act as apologists for "America's Team." Gosh, I had no idea the media lured the team into all these situations. I'm so sorry. Puh-leeze. Name me one professional sports team that has had more run-ins with the law in the 1990s. I promise not to make this a weekly feature, but the WHYLO in the airplane seat in front of me just reclined his chair to the point that I can now make out the type of shampoo he used -- eight days ago. To the pro wrestling fans who STILL write in about a column that ran months ago, I say, "Move on, ya bunch o' WHYLOs." Oh, and make sure to tune into an E! television special later this month where I rip wrestling all over again. Here's my advice to the WHYLOs writing in for Fantasy Football tips: Stop what you're doing, go to a mirror, take a long, hard look, and use that time to seriously reevaluate your life. But the WHYLO of the Week goes to Jeff Petersen, who writes in and, get this, asks me to get him tickets to the Packers-Bears game and the Notre Dame-Nebraska tilt. Dear Jeff: Why, yes, of course I will hook you up with tickets to both games. It would be my sincere honor. I'm just going to assume you are already set for the Super Bowl. Is the fifth row of the 45-yard line O.K.? Gosh, I hope so. The tickets will be waiting for you between 3-4 a.m. Tuesday at the Soldier Field box office under the name: Ima Whylo. Sports Illustrated staff writer David Fleming explores the sometimes weird and wacky side of sports every Thursday. Click here to send an e-mail to Flem, or address it yourself: flemfile@aol.com. The opinions expressed here are solely those of the writer.
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