57

It's hard to explain American football, I don't mean the rules, although that would be difficult enough, I mean why, why does American football exist at all? Why the complexity and show, why not just play rugby? It's as if someone sat a five-year-old boy down with some paper and a box of crayons, showed him a game of rugby and asked how it could be improved. The game of American football was then invented from the explosion of colour that remained after all the laser sticks and tanks were removed.

And it's the colour, complexity and show that mask what the game is all about: the simple act of violence, male violence over territory and possession. All that razzmatazz is just a way to authorize, to establish credibility and create approval. In some ways it's how the acceptance of religious doctrines and bonding in the military is achieved. Chanting and trinkets, beating music and uniforms all appeal to the most basic of animal instincts: to belong to a group is the way to survive. Paraphernalia makes a powerful contribution because it provides the illusion of legitimacy. In this way American football endorses itself, fluffs up its feathers and struts its stuff.

And once a following is established it's time to plant the idea firmly in the minds of the people by playing the game. The wealth of the church, the loyalty of soldiers and the success of the team depend on the cooperation of everyone involved. In American football, a player's number indicates their position and 57 is usually a centre. His job is to get the offensive going by snatching up the ball and passing it to the quarterback, then block any attempt by the opposition to thwart his teams' plans. He plays his part as his team advances, bit by bit, yard by yard, all the while ensuring his own continued status and position. And it's all achieved in a flash of colour, the chanting of orders and the sound of clashing armour.

Rugby is just as much about territory and possession, but its violence is raw and open. Rugby is much less of a spectacle than American football and in that way more honest. Maybe in part due to the dull, overcast and muddy fields of Britain, I always think that Rugby is best not watched in colour. There's no illusion, just grit. It reminds me of the pure and simple fact that sometimes, when the need arises, you just need to get stuck in. Like Tom Yately did in 57, when the violent Red ruled the roost.

The 1957 film, Hell Drivers, was a first-rate B movie about a firm of tipper drivers. It came out of an era of change when traditional roles were starting to be challenged. It's a male dominated black and white drama that sees good conquer evil. Filled with conflict over position and possession, Hell Drivers is more than just a British western: the characters, although extreme, were contemporary, authentic and real. The film shows how aggression is sometimes needed to defeat the damaging parasitic effect of wrongdoing, in this case by a rough, antagonistic top driver and a corrupt employer.  Here the team of drivers are weak and uncoordinated against the powerul Red and his boss. But Tom, their '57', snatches up the ball and goes on the offensive. Simple, undressed male violence. There's no need for deception or illusion; it's refreshing to watch.