Football or God? It's debatable which topic SEC-country residents are more fervent about. College and, increasingly, high school football as de-facto religions to be worshipped are discussed and analyzed. "Friday Night Lights" introduced Americans outside of NASCAR nation to high school fanaticism. MTV's "Two-A-Days" continues with the Hollywoodizing of high school football, with newer elements of egotistical coaches and national attention courtesy of ESPN. And after a few episodes, the viewer might start to wonder why the network's latest foray into the lives of those still trolling high school hallways took so long to happen.

Following specific starters from Alabama's Hoover High School football team, "Two-A-Days" (referring to the early morning and after-school practices) provides a more serious tone than the wildly popular and derided "Laguna Beach." Instead of worshipping their parents' credit cards, these teens worship their beloved Hoover Buccaneers. While "Laguna" focuses on the banality of upper-class teens with guaranteed futures, "Two-A-Days" more resembles MTV's "True Life" documentaries, focusing on the pressures of winning against increasingly competitive opponents from across the South, and the players' season-long interviews for lucrative college-football scholarships.

Though MTV's inevitable need to manufacture drama serves as nothing more than an excuse to reinforce existing stereotypes about jocks, cheerleaders and those who love them, most of the show's storylines stay on the field or in the locker room.

The show pays more attention to the players' relationships with their parents, or, more particularly, their fathers. With almost-too-frequent shots of fathers sitting in their pickups staring down the coaches and players on the practice field, "Two-A-Days" sets out to establish them as former players still holding onto their past glory. With a level of overarching involvement typically reserved for parent teacher conferences, each player's father prods the coaches for their opinions of the players' performance, they become the pathetic superfan viewers can collectively bemoan. But are they that much different than typical Michigan football fans who go into an almost depressive state after losses?

Essentially a high school version of Bobby Bowden, the team's head coach plays up the role of the celebrity coach. His slicked back with expensive wraparound sunglasses and visor make him almost identical to the litany of big-time college-program coaches. His presence is a perfect complement to the drill-sergeant demeanor he projects in expletive-filled tirades.

Equally intriguing is the team's minister, who interjects his sermons with deft proclamations that the opposing teams' players should be crawling off the field. Nowhere else on television has the relationship between religion and football been so explicitly presented and the supposed separation of church and state so openly ignored.

The show's star football players face the typical issues of high school athletes - albeit with perfectly kept bangs so common it seems part of their uniform. Problem is, they're doing it in front of 20,000 fans every week at their impressive stadium, and millions more on television.

It's here where the show has its greatest fault. Most of the players featured, though working hard to impress scouts for scholarships, are still from upper-middle-class families, and face few issues outside of what we all saw in our own high schools. On such a high-profile team, it's likely that there are transplanted students from inner-city schools seeking greater interaction with recruiters. It's these scouts who hold the scholarship offers the poorer athletes covet as their only avenue into college. What could have been an intriguing look into the pressure on these students to become the financial windfall for their family, and the detracting influences holding them back, is ignored. Instead of becoming a football "Hoop Dreams," the show sticks to the players' gridiron highlights and not the daily struggles with off-the-field issues, likely including racism.

But this is MTV, and the semblance of its staple shows is necessary in order to garner the growing ratings of recent years. Maybe viewers seeking a deeper look into the lives of high-profile athletes shouldn't put the blame on MTV but the rest of society's obsession with seemingly trivial things.

3 out of 5 stars