Not quite the super bowl Nov. 10, 1975

Sunday, November 10, 1975

When Jimmy gets it into his head that he wants to play sports, someone how he manages to get the rest of us to go along with it.

Jimmy loves the NY Giants football team, as much as Basil does, although most times when I show up at their house during season, Basil chomps on his cigar and complains about just how bad the team is this year.

A few times during baseball season, Jimmy talked us into playing softball – two games in particular in which his sister, a picture on the college team, became our ringer and we managed to beat some local bar team.

This time, Jimmy decided we should play some touch football down on the field in the valley behind Ginger’s mother’s house in Towaco.

Steve, one of the fans of the band, showed up with his boa constrictor – something Jimmy has always admired from afar and got a chance to hold only to have the snake shit on his foot.

“What is this?” Jimmy complained. “The snake shits once a month and he picks this moment to do it on me?”

The game was supposed to be a friendly one, only I got assigned to block and the person I was blocking was Alf.

It was like looking in a mirror. Alf kept grinning at me and telling me that he’s going to get passed me. Then each time, he tried, I did a rolling block, knocking him over. After three attempts, Alf tried to throw me very a hedge at the end of the field, Garrick grabbing him from behind as he always does when Alf tries to beat me up.

Jimmy played quarter back and even made a few successful passes, though we were all so out of shape, he didn’t have to try hard.

We all went out for beer afterwards, doing little to actually improve our condition. I bought Alf a beer which eased his rage a little, although not completely.

Now, a day later, I find out just how terrible shape I really am in, every muscle aching, and bones that seem to knock together inside of me.

Aspirin won’t help. Heat cream does a little. But since yesterday was Sunday and today, I had to go to work, I feel old before my time, struggling to lift boxes into the van I normally could easily handle.

My boss laughs at me.

Frank laughs, too, because he wisely sat on the sideline, a cheer leader for both sides, mocking Jimmy every time he missed a pass, Jimmy snarling back that if Frank doesn’t shut up, he’ll use Frank as the football.

“And that will really inspire me,” Jimmy said.

Frank paid no attention, humming some new tune by Elton John, while someone else suggested the band ought to play Space Oddity by Bowie, Jimmy telling whoever it was that he’s not in the band anymore – at least not at the moment.