On November 25, 2015, "Fantasy Sports' Real Crime: Dehumanizing the Athletes" appeared on the New York Times website. Two days later, a different version of the same article appeared in the print edition, under the title: "Memo to Fans of Fantasy Sports: Injuries Affect Players' Lives." The column, which ran in the sports section, was written by William C. Rhoden, who has been covering sports for the Times since the early eighties. In his piece, Rhoden makes the case that fantasy football promotes the dehumanization of the game's real players, a subject of particular interest these days as DraftKings and FanDuel take their battle for their right to stay in business in New York to court. As Rhoden sees it, the problem with fantasy football isn't really the gambling, per se; it's "the desensitizing effect it is having on fans, numbing them to the pain and injuries that are the stock in trade of a violent game."
One can't help but hear echoes of longstanding arguments against the business of pornography, which purportedly desensitizes those who watch it -- men, most will assume, is what we're talking about here, as far as consumers -- and turns them into inhuman zombies devoid of feeling and intent only on sating their desire for fresh flesh and more of it. But rare is the porn watcher or Times columnist who comes forward to request that those who consume it stop feeding into its fantasies and start appreciating, with a heavy dose of compassion, the great lengths its participants go through in order to make a living. According to Martin Amis, the adult movie business is "A Rough Trade," its biggest female performers akin to "a contemporary gladiator." Porn stars are athletes, too. You just don't know it when you see it.
As far as Rhodes can see, fantasy football fanatics are a callous lot who get belligerent when a football player on the field gets injured and fails to help a fantasy player in the virtual stands make money. Because of fantasy football, real football players "have become cogs in a machine, chess pieces to move around a virtual board." It's like sexual objectification -- only, in this case, all bets are on and those being objectified are 200-plus pound ballers who have been turned into commodities, thanks to gambling dollars. Fantasy football -- not the NFL, not a career in which men smash their heads into one another, not all those concussions -- is the problem. All we need, Rhodes argues, is a little compassion.
But pity the porn star instead! Rendered purportedly powerless by anti-porn feminists, robbed of revenue as her moving image is pirated across thousands of tube sites, struggling to make her living in a business that no longer leads technology but trails far behind it, she subjects her body to endless contortions as bored crews watch from the sidelines and the courts attempt to legislate what she can and cannot do with her body. (Condoms, anyone?) For consumers, her sole purpose is fantasy -- his. In a way, he's not all that different from your average gambler; he's just one more guy chasing that elusive high. Shouldn't he recognize her hard work? Shouldn't he be reminded that if he's going to get something from her, he might want to pay for it instead of consume it from someone who ripped it off? Shouldn't he appreciate what she does, recognize her humanity, you know, have a little compassion for the girl next door who went to the Valley to become a star?
Really, the only difference is cultural. In 2015, football players get praised as heroes, and porn stars get raised eyebrows.
"I think they don’t look at us as human anymore," Carolina Panthers running back Jonathan Stewart whines to the Times. "I think they look at us as an opportunity."
Sounds familiar, doesn't it?
