What a week we've had in primetime TV. First came Thursday's NBC-CBS face-off between "Friends" and "Survivor," which may have been the highest-stakes battle in broadcast history. 
   Then Saturday saw what may have been the gutsiest programming gambit since "Survivor," NBC's new football league, the XFL (Saturdays, 8-11 p.m. ET; UPN and TNN on Sundays).
       The yearlong hemorrhage of hype would seem ridiculous if it were coming from anyone besides Vince McMahon, whose wrestling empire is partnering with NBC on this league.
    After all, the National Football League has seen a half-dozen would-be competitors fail, and Saturday is an impossible night to launch a new program.
     But McMahon's success with attracting young males to the WWF makes it impossible to ignore his latest venture. 
   Too bad that's just what viewers will do, if the first week of his league is any indication. The debut may curry enough curiosity to yield decent ratings, but the future dropoff will be swift, steep and below even NBC's modest hope for a 5.0 rating.
     And then how low will McMahon sink in his attempt to attract young male eyeballs? Starved pit bulls as cornerbacks chasing a receiver with sausage links around his neck? It would be fascinating, given McMahon's qualm-free approach to programming.
      In theory the XFL is a tantalizing idea. Transplant the bluster and cheesecake of the WWF into football, which features the same violent action as wrestling.
    Allow the cameras and microphones to roam the sidelines and the locker room, even get right up in the players' faces during the huddle. Change the game guidelines to quicken its pace and increase the carnage.
      But after witnessing the execution of these ideas, it's apparent they add up to a boring mess. The XFL premiere lavished expensive but awkward coverage on shoddy gridiron play.
      Even the 19-point shutout the Las Vegas Outlaws held over the New York/New Jersey Hitmen in the inaugural XFL game doesn't tell the story of how low the quality of play sinks. 
     Wobbly passes bounce off the numbers on receivers' chests with alarming regularity. Defensive patterns are run with the finesse of pee-wee league football. These players would not even qualify as NFL scabs.
      All the underwhelming action is described by broadcasters, including Minnesota governor and former WWF star Jesse Ventura, whose breathless bravado does nothing to obscure the lack of excitement on the field.
  Every move the camera makes they hailed as television "firsts," including the live feed in the locker rooms at halftime. After their endless speculation about what kind of Gipper-esque speeches viewers would be privy to, we saw footage of coaches addressing players with the gusto of your average high-school guidance counselor.
      If this were the WWF, the coach would have been scripted a tirade worthy of Al Pacino, ending with a boot being deposited in some slacking player's posterior. 
   But the XFL will serve as McMahon's wake-up call to the nature of reality TV: Human fireworks are culled from hundreds of hours of tape; conflict is not a constant.
      McMahon also has to contend with the nature of football. No matter how many microphones and cameras are packed into a stadium, subpar football players remain anonymous in identical uniforms and heavy padding.
  Wrestling lends itself much better to its combatants staking out clearly defined individual personas. Players here express their individuality by stitching not their surnames on the back of their jerseys but inscrutable nicknames like "He Hate Me." 
      As for the T&A factor, cheerleaders whose dancing borders on the burlesque get considerable face time, or maybe "face" isn't the most accurate term. One Las Vegas cheerleader with obscenely pneumatic breasts may have actually been on camera more than either quarterback. 
    There were also some precious pre-taped promos featuring players and cheerleaders together, like one gem in which a fetching lass declares, "Quarterback Ryan Clement knows how to score!" 
    You know you're in trouble when a program relies on porn puns for wit.
      If only selling sexuality was as low as the XFL was willing to stoop. The more shameful aspect of this league is its willingness to endanger its quarterbacks by repealing NFL bylaws that protected them from injury.
     Clearly, McMahon is hoping for ESPN highlights of quarterbacks getting hospitalized, a strong XFL selling point that's gone relatively unacknowledged. 
    That's not to say these quarterbacks are being exploited--their participation is voluntary--but it's still deplorable.
     Not everything about the XFL is wrong. 
   The on-field audio also heightens the drama by amplifying every grunt. However, microphones in the huddle and on the sidelines pick up nothing but barely intelligible playbook jargon and street slang. NBC may actually want to consider subtitles.
       But the XFL isn't just misguided in its approach to football; it ignores certain realities about primetime programming. Launching any kind of series on Saturday is like planting a rose garden in the Sahara. Young males in particular probably aren't going to skip weekend parties or movies to watch football (and people wonder why the last hit sitcom to grace Saturday was the geriatric female-oriented "The Golden Girls").
       McMahon has also made much of returning football to its grittier past, but who cares considering his target audience isn't old enough to remember it.
      The impending failure of the XFL shouldn't spark a new round of back-patting among the NFL and its counterparts in other sports. Most pro leagues are suffering Nielsen depressions right now, and maybe this experiment will inspire them to shake off some cobwebs. And that's the real shame about the XFL: I really wanted to like it--for no other reason than to usher in badly needed innovation in sports programming.

-Andrew Wallenstein is the television critic for Media Life.

 Send to a Friend| Printer-Friendly Version
Cover Page | Contact Us

© 2001 Media Life