The title above is taken from the name of a comedy routine by television and movie star Andy Griffith over 50 years ago. As a young comedian, long before the television series "Mayberry" and "Matlock" and even before Broadway and "No Time for Sergeants", Andy's monologue of a country rube watching his first football game made him a celebrity. The monologue is hilarious as the rube stumbles into a stadium and sees a bunch of big guys in a fight in a cow pasture with white stripes across it. They are, to Andy's character's way of thinking, arguing over a funny kind of pumpkin that surely must be no good to eat "cause they spent all afternoon kicking it" or some such. Also, there are some convicts in striped uniforms running around blowing whistles (referee, other game officials). Every time one of these "fella's" gets hurt in the fight and is carried off "they rush another one onto the pasture to take his place." There's much more and the routine is still funny today.
Well, again last night, in a bar while eating, I had the pleasure of watching a football game on the television. That game the world so loves and we Americans call soccer. I've been now 10 years in this European wilderness (to me) of sports. And, I'm living Andy's rube character's life.
Of this game, this sport, I do note that the participants are excellent athletes, muscular, quick, well trained and conditioned and seem to have great hand, eye and, yes…foot coordination. In short the kind persons that could excel at many and even most athletic endeavors at a high level, even professional.
But really guys, in the game itself it seems to me the players move the ball up and down and all about the playing field, seldom scoring except in what seems no more than accidental happenstance. For myself even with all that watching, I'm not absolutely positive for sure that I've ever seen anyone score. Oh yeah, I do see them score on the incessant replays. And of course I've then seen the players jumping into one another's arms, shouting in what seem genuine displays of orgasmic joy. Then one guy, the one that scored, I think, circling, bare-chested, his soiled, sweaty shirt now off and being whirled around in the air.
Yes the replay, unless it shows the ball bouncing off someone's backside into the net (and that, or something like it, being a not infrequent occurrence), shows what might appear to be a planned, well-aimed athletic maneuver. That is, if one hadn't been watching the previous aimless back and forth scurrying about the field.
I would like for someone, anyone who knows the sport (and it seems most of the world does) explain a little of what's going on…the purpose, the object. Of course I know they intend that the ball ultimately enter the net and result in the infrequent score. An aside here, I love a well-pitched baseball game that after 3 plus hours results in a 2-1 or even a 1-0 shutout score. So, it's not the low scoring to which I object. It's more how they get to that result.
First, the traverse of a ball once it's kicked, particularly on longer trajectories, seems almost invariably to be intercepted, intervened with if one will, by a player from the opposing team. Even when one player seems to be moving well kicking the ball while running (kind of like dribbling in basketball where one sensibly uses ones hands…ah, uses one's hands, a forbidden thing apparently in soccer, the hands, that most useful appendage with quite athletic capabilities, very mobile and maneuverable and useful in most any athletic endeavor) the player seems most frequently to gets his legs mixed up with an opposing player's legs. They then trip, of course.
The action that follows is interesting. Both players while sitting on the ground look interminably around, sometimes in seeming puzzlement as in, " How could this happen?" Or, they point at one another or something else and again, seemingly angry as in, "How could that other person do this foul act to me?" Anyway one or both players feign genuine injury, cry "mommy" (or is it "mummy") while waiting to have their 'injury" tended to and hoping an official will pull some kind of card, of some color (and it seems to matter which color) and assess some kind of penalty.
We have a game where I come from, interestingly also named football, where we have a remedy for this sort of interference with the object of moving down field and scoring. The remedy is to deliberately cause the interference. That is, knock down the opposing interfering players down first. A kind of "Golden Rule" I guess. Remove them from the field of play, permanently perhaps. Hit them, bowl them over, knock them down, get them out of the play. Let the player with the ball move downfield, hopefully without further interference, in pursuit of the object of the game, which is to score at the other end of the field. We call this downfield blocking. Very efficient if the object is to score quickly.
Using one's head. Another topic. Frequently in soccer, since players are not permitted the use of their hands, and one's feet are on the ground, a player will attempt to hit the ball with his head. This sometimes actually works. The ball is thus deflected off the head and moved in the other direction if by an opposing player, or even directed in favor of one's teammate to do something with as the scurrying about continues. It seems usually though not actually to work out in a favorable way for either side, but does add considerably to the ongoing confusion. At what price to the brain cells of the guy who "uses his head". I'll leave to consideration by the neurosurgeons.
I think: an American football game. What if: Peyton Manning, a great professional quarterback for the Indianapolis Colts comes into the huddle and proclaims, "I've got a great new idea." "Take off your helmet," he says to his tight end. "I want a short downfield run, turn and stop. Abdul (a wide receiver) and Muhammad (the split end) will trail you, one long and one short. I'll pass the ball to your spot, Willie. I'll hit your head. You point your head to either Muhammad or to Abdul, whichever is more open, and you deflect it to him. We'll score for sure. Ok, x on 3 count…go."
Willie: "Now, just a damn minute, Peyton. That's my head you're talking about. I'll keep my helmet on; you put the ball in my hands. Muhammad and Abdul, being downfield, will just knock a couple those sob's down and I'll score the damn touchdown by my own self."
Next time: Rugby.
Editor's Note: Comments may be directed to Glen Willard at glen@twg.com.ua. When commenting please let Glen know if your comment may be used in our magazine
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