Mr. Pansypants invented football

Forget everything you've ever learned about the history of American football.
Here's the real story.
The year was 1892. William Pansypants sat in his velvet wingbacked chair gazing at the "old blue" floral paper covering his parlor. He ran a manicured finger over his perfectly positioned handlebar mustache before studying the gentlemen that surrounded him. Like he, they were dressed in their finest attire- frock coat, breeches and bowler hat, while enjoying high tea and scones. Then in a deep and proper voice Pansypants asked a question; "How can I become less of a girlie man?" The men started brainstorming and football was born.

What is it about football that turns normal men into loud, raging beasts?
I live in a house with three males. On game day, the Neese house, which I would normally consider a somewhat calm and stable environment, becomes a steam room of testosterone. Arms become weapons prepared to fire into the touchdown position at any second. The room becomes a landmine of man food, and attire is limited to sweat pants. By half-time, I'm expecting noise complaints. By final buzzer, I'm moving to a convent.

On field, there is an equal amount "I am man; hear me roar" behavior going on- trash talking, chest bumping, cheap after buzzer hits. These players aren't fooling me. It's obvious that eye black is more for cool factor than functionality. Those high-knee kicks into the end zone and that Heisman pose held just a little longer than what's appropriate is really the player's attempt to catch their alpha male moment on the ESPN highlight reel. With athletic tape covering every joint like it's some sort of war trophy, and super-serious player photos that could easily double for police mugshots, players make a point to remind us that football is not for pansies. In a world where everything from linemen to biceps are supersized, and a slap on the ass is masculine, congrats Mr. Pansypants, mission accomplished.