A.V. Club: Best of the Decade

Drop-kicked through the goal posts of life: Job suggestions for laid-off Chicago Rush-ees

Football is life, so what do you do when you're dead?

Chicago Rush Grant Heaton "Hup one! Hup two! Ready, set, get your résumé in order!"

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While the challenges of competing for the spot of "7th most popular professional sports franchise in town" may not seem insurmountable, in a recession, everyone's bottom line is constantly in question. Thus, while the team's tens of fans are liable to be heartbroken, most Chicago sports fans are more likely to respond to the news that the Arena Football League's Ditka-owned Chicago Rush officially ceased operation on Aug. 4 with a resounding, "Oh, were they still doing that?" The answer to which is "kinda.” The league had taken the 2008 season off to fundraise and to plot how to remain viable in 2009, but in the face of a stagnating economy, the answers weren't exactly forthcoming.

Former Arena League offensive MVP and current Bears wide receiver Rashied Davis mourned for the unemployed players in an interview with the Chicago Sun-Times: "It tears at my heart," he told writer Brad Biggs. "These guys don't have any job experience or anything like that." Few players managed to follow Davis—or three-time Super Bowl veteran and current Arizona Cardinals starting quarterback Kurt Warner—into the NFL. Our hearts go out to those that didn't. But rather than curse the darkness, we decided to light a candle: Here are a few places The A.V. Club thought a couple hundred ex-Arena Leaguers could resurface.

Extras in the World Of Warcraft movie
Peter Jackson used the New Zealand Army as the minions of Sauron when he filmed the Lord Of The Rings trilogy, and with equally dynamic filmmaker Sam Raimi stepping up as the director of every nerd's favorite answer to the question, "Hey, where'd those last six months go?" it's likely that Azeroth's Horde will be assembled through similar means, rather than just copying and pasting CGI Orcs and trolls. Raimi, who resisted the temptation to film Spider-Man and its sequels in cheap locations like Vancouver, seems like the sort to demand a homegrown legion of fantasy monsters, and the athletic, bulky players of the Arena League may be the perfect choice. Your average offensive/defensive lineman (most Arena League players were required to play both sides of the ball) has probably already been mistaken for a Tauren warrior at the supermarket by basement-dwelling geeks, and the more svelte wide receivers/defensive backs could easily pass as an assembly of blood elves.

United States Merchant Marines
The Merchant Marines are to the Navy what the Arena Football League was to the NFL—essentially a dorky little brother organization full of washouts and lovable losers. And while the game of football as we know it here in the U.S. has yet to establish much more than a vague toehold overseas, loading several hundred former professional players onto ships traveling international waters—especially coming from a version of the game that bore more resemblance to multicultural sports like rugby than the NFL—could kill two birds with one stone. Those ships need protection, after all, and what Somali pirate is going to fuck with a boat teeming with out-of-work linebackers? Additionally, since the NFL's expansion strategy of pumping Europe with copies of Madden NFL and playing a game a year in London has thus far met with limited success, maybe it's time to physically put an entire league onto boats, then send it around the world talking about its glory days and playing a little seven-on-seven during shore leave.

Units of measurement
While the term "horsepower" is quaint, it lacks context for most Americans. A 2010 BMW Z4 Roadster has a 255 horsepower engine, but who the fuck knows enough about draft horses these days to put that in practical terms? The pulling power of a running back, however, is far easier to conceptualize: Just think about how much, roughly, you could pull, then double it. (Or triple it, you pansy.) And strapping a couple dozen ex-Arena Leaguers into harnesses and getting them to pull a new F150 isn't just a good way to make science relevant again; it'd also make for some killer commercials during games played by a league people actually care about. You know, like the NFL.

United Football League fans
The recruiting period for the upcoming low-budget professional football league, the UFL, is mostly over. With a number of NFL washouts (including ex-Bear Adam Archuleta) making up the rosters of the four teams, actually signing on to play is unlikely for most arena castoffs. But one thing the league still has plenty of room for is fans. The UFL's games are set to air solely on the obscure cable channel Versus, and three of its teams are based in the football-saturated markets of New York, Florida, and San Francisco. The track record of second-tier professional leagues like the XFL—which featured backing by the deep pockets of Vince McMahon and NBC—demonstrates that America's appetite for pro football is already fully sated by the NFL, thanks. (After all, if the concept were such a surefire winner, then Arena Football League players wouldn't be out of work, right?) If the UFL has any money left in its budget, and it wants to avoid the same fate, it may as well start paying these unemployed workhorses to sit in the stands and watch. As was the problem with the Arena League, it's not really clear who else will care.

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