American football is a such a brutal sport. During almost every game, fights break out and people call each other nasty names. And the referees can't do anything about it because they have no control over spectators.

Sure, there's a lot of hitting and name-calling on the field, but it can't compare to the frenzy in the stands and in living rooms across America. That's where the real battle is. That's where boys become men, and men become crazy.

They act like nothing is more important than a football game, not even that living arrangement known as a marriage. If we could televise all the fights between husbands and wives over football, no one would watch the actual games. They would seem too dull.

"What do you get out of sitting on your big butt all day, watching grown men throw a ball?" a wife would yell, searching for the remote control.

"More joy than you've ever given me," her husband would reply, sliding the remote under the big butt.

Of course, not all men are like this. Some have small butts.

But regardless of butt size, many men -- and some women -- go absolutely nuts over football. I know this because I happen to be one of these men. On Sunday afternoons, when my favorite team, the Seattle Seahawks, is playing, my entire life is on hold. The telephone can ring all it wants, I'm not answering. And if someone is brave enough to knock on my door, they had better tell me I've won the lottery.

As you've probably guessed, my wife and I don't agree on the merits of watching football. I find it tremendously enjoyable; she has more fun scrubbing the bathtub. If only I could get her to do it on Sunday afternoons.

Her interests are more sublime than football: literature, theater, movies, yoga, chess. I've tried to convince her that football is similar to chess, but with more action and fewer Russians. I've tried to show her that the typical football fan has the foresight of a chess grandmaster, capable of deep conversations such as this:

Fan: "Each team has two timeouts left. You know what that means?"

Second fan: "Yes, it means we have enough time, in all probability, to buy four more beers!"

I've tried to tell my wife that football isn't just about men hitting each other -- it's also about men jumping on each other. And the players really don't mind the violence. That's why, after every game, many of them get together to pray. "Dear God, please help our injured teammates."

I've tried to explain some of the fascinating aspects of American football. For example:

• Games are 60 minutes long. The actual length of the games is about three hours, if you include timeouts, injuries, and the time it takes players to climb off each other. The actual playing time is about 18 seconds. Especially if you include the celebrations.
• The team with the ball has four chances to gain at least 10 yards. They can run with the ball or throw it. A touchdown is scored when an offensive player enters the end zone and begins to dance. An extra point is awarded for a really good dance.
• Kicking the ball is generally illegal. Though it's called "football," the only players who can kick the ball are the punter and the kicker. The kicker usually faces a lot of pressure. When he misses a field goal, he risks not only getting cut from the team, but also being deported.
• Football players wear helmets, which means that, unlike many motorcyclists, they value their brains.
• Each official keeps a yellow flag in his back pocket and throws it on the ground whenever he spots an infraction. This is the most appealing part of football for female spectators because it's the only time they get to see a man picking up after himself.

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