Friday, February 3, 2012

AMERICAN FOOTBALL IS CLEARLY A GIRL'S SPORT

Helena is a lady true to her word.

"I said I'd make you breakfast," she says.  "And well, walk me down.  You can help me open, and I'll make you something special." 

I asked last night if she would come up for coffee after the movie and well, here it is now,  5:30 am.

I live two floors above her restaurant, the Montana Galley. As a gentleman, I walk her down.

"What sounds good?"

"Surprise me." I say.  We open and I sit at my usual booth in the back.

Other early risers enter.

She brings coffee, and we sit.

"Remember, Super Bowl's Sunday." says Helena.  "I got the Giants.  Hope you haven't forgotten our bet?"

"Oh, I remember." I promised to be her slave for a day if I lost.
 
"I've made a list." says Helena.  She nudges me under the table with her foot.

"Okay," she says.  "I 'm trying something new for my breakfast menu.  You wanted surprise.   Hope you don't mind being my guinae pig. Got my best chef on it."

A Man leans over the booth.

"'ello Laddie.  Playing the odds on American Football, eh?"

"Just a friendly Super Bowl bet."

"Think I coo take some of that also?  I'm from Queens, so I like
the Giants.  I'm not a 'uge American Football fan, but I'd go for a wager.  l canee let
Boston take the prize."

I sit silently for a second.  This man, a visitor, might bring added oomph to our breakfast.

"Please," I say. "Come sit with us.  We'll talk about it."  Helena seems game.

"Sure, Laddie,"  says the Man, and slides into our booth.

I give him the same odds I give Helena last week, the odds Key West, my odds guy down near Hialeah, gives me:

Giants +3, Overs 55, $100 to win $115, and $120 to win $!00.

He takes Giants plus 3 for $500.  We shake.

"This is Helena, and I'm Brentwood.  You're not originally from around here, " I say, and sip my coffee.

"You think?" says Helena.

He smiles.  "Hail from Scaw'lun.  Names Glasgow.  Glasgow  Killbride.  I play rugby back 'ome. The Ednbrah Eagles, Rugby League."

"I see they're televising more Rugby here in America. I write a sports column for the Valley Post Picayune, so I know a wee bit about rugby."   Then I say, "Not to ruffle your feathers, but American Football is better." 

I look at Helena, and wink, then look over at Glasgow. 

He blinks.  "Well, Laddie, " he says.  "I don't know about that.  The TV rugby is Rugby Union.  Very slow, lots of stops, with a million rules,  That's why it's on the tele.  Plenty of stops for commercials  Rugby League is non-stop, less confusin' rules, and well, much more excitin.'

My surprise arrives.  I look down at a three inch waffle sandwich; peanut butter, jelly and a layer of lobster.

Helena has the waitress bring us another plate.  "Both of you, tell me what you think."

We taste.

"Wow, this is terrific,"  says Glasgow.

"Magnificent," I say. And it is.

"It's got lobster," says Helena.  "What's not to like?  Right?  Now you were saying."

"Yes," says Glasgow.  "Eton, Charterhouse, Westminster School. It's Rugby Union.  It's a right of passage. Nobody gets hurt, or exhausted.  It's very slow, but a young Prep school chap can say, "Oh yes sir-ee.  I played Rugby."

"The first time I saw a rugby on TV," I say, "This muddy player was saying into the camera,  'I found it,'  showing his tooth to the camera.  He had a large missing-tooth grin on this face. And, I'll confess, a twinkle in this eye."

"That's Rugby League," says Glasgow.  "Ya don-nee to be the fastest, or the strongest, or the widest, We accept you just the way you are.  There is always a position you can play, regardless of shape, size, and height."

"In football," I say, "We have the forward pass, so we score a lot quicker.  We have a lot more plays, too, so the defenses are more complex.  And an interception can quickly change the momentum of the game.  We're more exciting."

"So," says Glasgow. "Both sports are known for bone crushin' tackles. Can-nee argue with that.

But all those excitin' crashes and an “almost anythin' goes” attitude, gives us the win.  Watchin' a 150-pound lightweight hooker take down a 300-pound tighthead prop, without nerry a scratch, is a thin' of beauty.

"Makes sense," says Helena.

"Thought you were on my side?" I say, and elbow her shoulder. Then to Glasgow, "15 players?  I guess you need that many to carry players off on stretchers?"

"That's right. The game stops for no man. If you’re not springin' back up and shakin' it off  we only stop to roll you off the field and pull in a substitute."

"Okay," I say."Our football players don’t just tackle, we collide, so we need safety  Helmet, face mask, chin strap, mouth protector, shoulder, tailbone, hip, thigh and knee pads. We win by sheer volume."

"Rugby League, it's basically, trunks, shoes, and mouthpiece. Goes without sayin', rugby players are bad asses on the field.  American Football is clearly a girl's sport.

I breathe heavily. 

"So," says Helena. "Your Lob-Affle...probably not the most appetizing name...how is it?  A winner, right?"

We both wipe our plates with pieces of waffle.

"I take that as a yes.  Good. Now, what to name it?  A Lobster PJ?"

"Football has the Hail Mary. Statue of Liberty. Football is Spiritual. It's Patriotic.   Bootleg, Red Dog, Shotgun, Halfback Draw. It's like a Tom Mix Western." 

"Tom who?" says Helena.

"Well, how 'boot, Hooker. Scrum. Maul. Ruck. Flyhalf.  We have all the cool names."

"Flyhalf?" says Helena.

"It's a player's position like Flanker, Prop, or Lock. Sometimes they're called 'First-Five Eighth,'"

"Of course," says Helena. "Silly me."   Again a kick under the table.

Lady from another table, looks over, and waves.  "Sorry, but I can't resist,  I’ve dated football players and rugby players. A senior linebacker at USC.  A real creep, never called me back.  But this Winger for the Northampton Saints.  Wow, what a doll.  We got married after only two weeks."

"Was he a hooligan?" asked Glasgow.

"Sure was, in the best sense."   She points to the Lob-Affle.  "And can I get one of those.  Looks delish."

Helena waves to her and strides toward the kitchen. 

"Yes," says Glasgow.  "We are known as the “Hooligan Sport Played by Gentlemen”, but at the end expect a nice meal and a pint, provided by the hostin' team after every game.  All grievances end once you get off the pitch and into the clubhouse.

His hands are fists. "80 minutes of nonstop ruggedness, Everyone gaspin' at the tackles, everyone wowin' at the plays.  Hands down, Rugby takes home the trophy."

A voice from two tables over.  "Guys, the reason they wear that much padding because every hit is a collision.  Their bodies are weapons.  Football is more physically demanding because it is about bursts of speed and physical power.  Not just endurance like rugby."

Another voice.  "Not really. Rugby's a man's game. American football is played by guys who can't play rugby and think they're hard."

Another voice and another voice...

And the debate, not yet physical, continues as I take my leave.  My conclusion:  Watch Rugby League, then watch American Football.  You decide. 

 And I am off to write my sports column. I bid farewell to Glasgow, and set next Monday morning for the resolution of our wager.

At the door, I wave to Helena, and say, "Coffee later?"

She winks and says, "Just coffee, now."   But there's that impulsive smile of hers, definitely one that is not missing any teeth.


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Help comes from:

Scotland Rugby League (scotlandrl.com)
BBC,CO,UK (Rugby Union)
Whoohoo.co.uk (Scottish translator)
Scots-online.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rugby

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