[8.0/10] I would recommend Stefan Fatsis’ book to any professional football fan. His “embedded reporter” take on the inside of an NFL training camp is part story of personal challenge, part snapshot of a particular team at a particular time, and part broader look at the machinations of the wider National Football League. The three parts don’t always work in sync, but each is interesting on its own terms. And more to the point, they’re illuminating about the sheer difficulty of the NFL, the rigors and Catch-22 like frustrations of NFL team management tropes, and the steady, uncaring clank of pro-football’s endless machine.
If there’s a prime mission to A Few Seconds of Panic, it’s to humanize the larger than life figures who occupy our television screens every Sunday (and Monday, and Thursday, and Saturday when it gets late enough in the year, and watch out other days of the week, too!) In that, it succeeds. The results aren’t always pretty. Salty Todd Sauerbrun, despite a late-book apology, seems like a real piece of work. Kind, friendly Jason Elam is blithely described writing a novel about how upstanding Christian football heroes defeat evil terrorists and is also taking classes at Jerry Fallwell’s university. The character flaws of even the good guys in this story are on display.
But so is the pain, the hardship, the struggle and suffering of the players Fatsis joined in the Broncos 2006 training camp. You feel for the back-up punters and quarterbacks fighting for a job. You hurt for the guys playing through pain and even injury so that they’re not tossed out of contention for “not wanting it enough.” You sympathize with the guys who live under the mercurial edge of the NFL’s cuts, where whether you have a job in a week or a month or a year depends on the whims of folks who withhold praise and even information.
In short, Fatsis makes the standard state of the NFL locker room sound terrible. Everyone, from the young punter just hoping to make the team, to the veteran QB who’s stayed steady under pressure, ends up getting a raw deal. And the players interviewed talk as though the Broncos are one of the *better* organizations in the league about this sort of thing. As in so much of sports and real life, there’s little in the way of happy endings, with most of the personal tales feeling good if they’re in spitting distance of “mixed blessing.”
It’s too much to call A Few Seconds of Panic an expose. It doesn’t have that aim or that tone. Instead, Fatsis just writes honestly about what he sees and hears. The NFL is a harsh business, one where careers are (to use one of the quality Scrabble words the author sprinkles throughout the book), practically evanescent. Players exist at the whims of coaches and GMs who treat them like cogs in a machine, whose humanity and well-being seems to be regularly ignored in a brutal competitive process, amid the constant grind to do the one thing that matters in this multi-billion dollar enterprise -- win.
And yet, at the same time, Fatsis captures the sense of camaraderie and joy that can suffuse a lockerroom and the game itself. I didn’t play football past high school, but it’s remarkable how the esprit de corps Fatsis describes -- the questions of whether the lingering aches and slog of practice is worth the thrill of playing and the rush of success, all bound up in a sense of brotherhood -- are super-sized yet recognizable in the context of an NFL locker room. When his pre-season tour is over, Fatsis admits to watching the Broncos’ games wistfully, wanting to be down on the field, not to share in the glory, but to support his teammates. He notes the cliques and rivalries on the team, but also draws into focus those bonds that hold grown men from different backgrounds together through difficult experiences.
I have a keen respect for Fatsis for what he did. He joined the Broncos’ roster (despite his official non-rostered status) as a back-up back-up kicker. He knows from the jump he doesn’t have the chops to make an NFL team, but he aspires to be a talented amateur, someone who might not be able to hack it in the league, but who can go through the rigors his teammates do while carrying himself with the same commitment and professionalism. In that, he succeeds, meeting the players where they live (literally and figuratively) and giving a look at the inner-working of a professional team with something beyond mere access -- credibility.
The catch is that there’s not a natural trajectory to Fatsis’ personal story. The NFL won’t let him kick even in a preseason game (provoking a huffy, self-righteous rant in the middle of the book). So while following the author’s process, learning about how he works with a kicking specialist and gets professional treatment and practices with the pros is interesting, it lands with a bit of anticlimax.
And yet, Fatsis hangs the drama of his personal story on a few key practice kicks that come with some added pressures I won’t spoil here. Suffice it to say, what his quasi-professional quest lacks in stakes, it makes up for in poetry, as Fatsis beautifully describes the transcendent moments of experience, giving verse and form the mysteries of brilliant athletics subsisting in a commodified world.
Therein lies the supreme tension at the center of A Few Seconds of Panic. If you are a football fan, Fatsis’ stellar prose will give you a new appreciation for the almost mystical beauty of the game. It will make you sympathize with the players on your favorite team, with a greater knowledge not just of the difficulty of what they accomplish on the field, but in the stress and strain they go through off of it. It will enhance your understanding of just how difficult success is in the modern NFL, for teams, players, coaches, executives, and determined journalists who want to prove they’re serious and not just tourists. You will walk away with a deeper love for the game and those who make it possible.
But you’ll also kind of hate it. It’s hard to hear about the mind games players deal with, the physical pain they ignore so as not to lose a roster spot, the way individual careers and fortunes turn on a dime or a whim, and not think this is a garbage way to deal with human beings. Fatsis suggests that it’s not the money that keeps these gluttons for punishment coming back, but rather the fact that they can do something unparalleled and want to stoke that flame as long as it still burns.
Still, it’s hard not to see their relationship with football as a nigh-abusive one, tantalized by the promise of not just financial reward, but recognition and achievement, dangled in front of so many and snapped away from even more. There’s an ugliness to the meat-grinder of training camp and NFL roster management, approached with appropriate journalistic distance in this book, which nonetheless comes in as clear as a clarion call.
It’s a call worth hearing. I’ll confess to reading more analysis than broader-lens journalism about football. It’s easy to be caught up in the “horse-race” aspect of the pros, for lack of a better turn. And efforts to explore the human side of the sport tend to be either sensationalistic talking head soundbytes or inspirational, trope-ridden sap. But A Few Seconds of Panic falls into neither category.
Instead, it offers an unvarnished look at what goes on behind the scenes of a professional football team. It treats the players with respect without being uncritical, shines a light on the reasons behind team decisions without excusing them, and tells a tale of hard-fought personal experience without being self-aggrandizing. If more football journalism were like this, we’d all be better off as fans, and we might even have a better, more humane version of our favorite sport to enjoy.