What It Was Was Football

….continued from previous post

Dear Boo and Bubble,

Eizo Shindo arrived on a Friday afternoon in October of 1959 at what is now called the Downtown Greenville airport. On the way back to 3 Lakecrest, Granddaddy Schaefer asked him if there was anything in particular that he'd like to see or do. His answer - “I would like to experience your family life. I want to learn how you live.”

That made things pretty simple because a weekend in October meant two things – football and church.

Granddaddy explained that our local university, Furman, had a game on Saturday.

“Have you ever seen an American football game?” he asked Eizo.

“No, I have not, but that would be interesting.”

“Well, that's what we'll do tomorrow. And, then Sunday....” Granddaddy hesitated a minute. “....we are Christian, Eizo, and go to First Baptist Church here.”

“I am Buddhist,” Eizo responded, “but, I am most eager to see how you worship. My host in Washington is also Christian.”

Quickly and without much effort, our weekend plans had gelled.

We awoke to a beautiful fall morning on Saturday. Taking Eizo at his word about immersing into the family, Granddaddy decided that the first thing on the agenda should be a typical Southern breakfast. He stood over the stove nursing a pot of grits, which had soaked overnight in salt water. A plate of fried country ham pieces rested in the oven while Granddaddy coaxed a red eye gravy from their remnants in the pan on the burner. He finished things off by scrambling eggs in the gravy residue.

Once Mamaw Mary put the slices of an Entenmann's pecan streusel coffee cake on a platter, breakfast was served. I gobbled up my food, but Eizo, with Granddaddy's coaxing, more cautiously sampled everything on his plate. How interesting this would day would prove to be - a day of seeing familiar things through the eyes of the uninitiated......

What it was was football.....

I first heard of Andy Griffith when I was a little girl. Mamaw Mary and Granddaddy Schaefer purchased a 45 rpm record that they played whenever company came over to 3 Lakecrest. Under the title of “What It Was Was Football,” Griffith delivered a comedic soliloquy about a country bumpkin who stumbled onto a Friday night football game and, without any knowledge of how the game was played, described what he saw.

That Saturday in October, our family resurrected this entire scenario with Eizo.

For most American families, football was second nature. The terms first down, off sides, touchdown, and safety filtered into our vocabulary at an early age. Young boys literally doubled in size when they donned their first pair of shoulder pads. Their muscle-less arms hung out from their jerseys like toothpicks as they scooted up and down the field at Pop Warner practice. It was all understood for us, but not so for our mild mannered, Buddhist friend from South Korea.

We pulled into the sandy parking lot adjacent to old Sirrine Stadium about thirty minutes before kickoff. This was long before the days of big games and the elaborate tailgating that goes on now. Granddaddy wanted to get there early enough to get a good seat in the faculty section with time to allow Eizo to absorb everything. Explaining the game? He figured he would do that when it unfolded.

As we settled into our seats, the Furman band, in full uniform complete with capes, shakos and plumes, marched through one of the goalposts at the end of the football field and formed two lines.

“Are those musical instruments?” Eizo turned and asked of me.

“Yes,” I said proudly. “That's our band. They play the national anthem before the game starts and then perform again at halftime.”

He pondered this information.

At that point, an announcer's voice came over the loud speaker - “And now, ladies and gentlemen, the Furman Paladins!”

With that, everybody in the stands stood up and starting yelling at the top of their lungs. On the field, the band cranked up with the Furman fight song as a majestic white horse ridden by a knight in full armor bolted down the center between the two lines followed by a cadre of hysterical cheerleaders frantically waving pom poms. The team came next as the screech from the stands reached a fever pitch. The players ran to the benches on the sidelines as the horse and cheerleaders continued to the end zone at the opposite end of the field where the knight reared the horse and the cheerleaders took to their knees and bowed down.

Eizo looked on in total bafflement. I felt compelled to explain. After all, it was so explainable.

“Okay, you see,” I began, “that horse and that knight riding it.....that's our mascot....like the thing that represents us....what we call ourselves...not like the tigers or bears or lions, some teams are like that....but we're the Paladins....actually the knight is the paladin, not the horse...understand?”

“So your team rides horses?”

“No, no, no.....it's just....a mascot...” I trailed off.

“Who are those people bowing down, worshiping?”

Ah.....the cheerleaders I thought.....now that's something a little easier.

“Oh, those are the cheerleaders. They lead us in cheers.......like the name says.”

“A cheer? What is that?” Eizo asked.

“Well....things like....Hit 'em again, hit 'em again, harder, harder....or, maybe...Push 'em back, push 'em back, way back.....you know.....cheers.”

He looked nonplussed.

Wow.....this was harder than I thought. In the meantime, the band concluded the National Anthem.

“Don't worry, Eizo,” I said, assuredly. “When the game starts, it will all make sense.”

The captains of the competing teams met at the 50-yard line with the head referee for the toss of the coin. The other team won. (Back then, there was no deferring. If you won the toss, you started with the ball.) I was relieved to get to the kickoff so that it would all come clear to Eizo.

Furman kicked the ball to about the five-yard-line where the receiver took it and began to run down the field. He made some headway. The stands erupted.

“KILL HIM!!!!” “GET HIM!!!” “KNOCK HIS HEAD OFF!!!”

I excitedly joined in.......until I noticed the utter fright on Eizo's face.

It was at this point that I realized the futility. In the course of it, and looking at it through his eyes, the game became somewhat absurd to me as well.

Yes....... what it was was football......but don't ask me to explain it.

…....to be continued.