Roanoke Times
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: WEDNESDAY, January 18, 1995 TAG: 9501190060
SECTION: EXTRA PAGE: 1 EDITION: METRO
SOURCE: BEN BEAGLE
DATELINE: LENGTH: Medium
Once, the old man had looked forward to the big game in the fine arena. But now it seemed to him that it was folly to do so.
He had been young in the time of the early arenas, and it seemed to him that perhaps the young men now threw the ball better and ran better. But the old man could see little character or color in them.
There are none, he thought, named Slingin' Sammy. Or the Polish Rifle. Or Whiskey, Broadway Joe, Snake or Johnny U.
The announcers of the game tried to give Bowl of the Super character, and suspense, but it had neither.
It was as though the bulls of Pamplona no longer ran with the same conviction. And the old man thought of the calvados they used to drink when Los Redskins played.
That is the way it is, he thought. The Redskins, although they have put on their colorful suits and showed up, have not played. Their tackling is mournful to watch.
"Is it not a shame, mujer, that the professional football has come down to a game in late January that has no real soul to it?" the old man said.
"I care not for this game, esposo," the woman said. "It is merely a number of over-developed hombres who run up and down the field and try to give hurt to one another."
"The run of the bulls has more sport and fire in it than this game, in which the hombres with the lightning bolts on their heads win what is said to be a `close one' by the announcers of the game," the old man said.
"I desire a matador in his suit of lights, facing the bull and either glory or death in the sand to dolorous trumpets. And only the bull undaunted at five in the afternoon."
"Caramba, viejo," the woman said, in the way of one who has known much sorrow. "Must thee be so violent?"
The old man was thinking again of the retreat now almost a century old and of newer gunfire on the Ebro River. Times were nobler then, he thought.
"I shall not look at this Bowl of the Super," the old man said. "I spit in their Gatorade - which they will pour over the coach whose teams wins this dubious game. It is an obscenity."
"That is well, viejo," the woman said. "If only thee can keep this rash promise."
"I may watch the kickoff of the ball and what then ensues," the old man said. "But I shall be in well before the vulgar Show of the Halftime."
by CNB