Historical sports satire by Tom Hoerr, October 1983. The proposed changes to the Football Cardinals are comic inventions, not reports of actual events.
Man is trapped by his environment.
We are creatures of context and, as such, we spend our lives responding and recoiling to the sudden rush of events which surround us daily and evolve into history. Change is rapid and often hard to understand. Consequently, it’s nice to know that there are some true constants in the world. I refer, of course, to the dismal plight of the St. Louis Football Cardinals. Writing about a topical issue while publication date is a few weeks away is always a bit risky.
For that reason, I avoid writing about timely issues like inflation, politics, and the Iran-Iraq border.
It is, however, depressing that I can write with great confidence about the Football Cardinals, “The Big Dead” as they’re known to their legions of loyal masochistic followers. Sure, by the time you read this the Cards could have won a couple of games.
By that time we may have also found a cure for cancer, paid off the National Debt, and have cable television in the City. I’ve been a Football Cardinal fan for many years now. Like it or not, each summer I find myself getting enthused about their chances in the upcoming fall season. Talk about naive! I’m like the mother of a chronic offender who keeps thinking that she knows — absolutely knows — that her kid will become a good citizen after the “next” time.
Sometimes I think that the Big Dead were put in St. Louis to compensate for our relatively congestion-free highways and the many pleasant recreational activities which abound like the riverboat Admiral. Years ago, in the late sixties, I had good season tickets.
I was close enough to the field that I could really see the fumbles, interceptions, and misplaced sideline markers.
The season was typical, 4-9-1 I believe, but I was young and foolish (this is before I got old and foolish) and, therefore, I was disappointed at the meager victory total.
After the season, in a pique of anger, I cancelled my seats: “I’ll show them,” I thought.
Some months later, falling prey to the inevitable preseason publicity and optimism of youth, I succumbed again (I told you that I was young and foolish). I found that my “new” seats were forty-odd rows farther from the field.
In a way, this was a mixed blessing; at least the askance sideline markers no longer bothered me.
Well, the Big Dead were and are consistent and, you guessed it, I followed suit and, after another depressing year, again cancelled my season tickets only to again purchase them for the “new” year, losing fifty-odd rows in the exchange this time.
By now I was so far from the field that the corpse itself wasn’t visible and I had to rely on the curses and moans from nearby fans who enjoyed suffering enough to bring binoculars. Forty-five thousand of us showing up every Sunday to watch the Big Dead in hopes of a successful performance can only be likened to the people who go to the beach to watch the salt. It’s bad enough when you can count a season’s victory total on one hand, but when you can do it while wearing mittens….
To be honest, there were a few seasons in the seventies when the Big Dead came to life. Don what’s-his-name was coach and for a while there they were actually good and exciting. That, too, carried a certain amount of difficulty, because you didn’t know what to expect.
There is something to be said for knowing that all Japanese horror movies are bad and that green peppers on a Calico’s pizza always cause heartburn. Alas, like Richard Nixon, in due time the Football Cardinals true colors once again rose to the surface (at least they’re honest!) and we again knew what to expect. Analyzing the Cards’ poor record isn’t difficult.
They are consistent: they draft poorly, use an unimaginative strategy, make mental errors, have poor physical execution and wear dull uniforms.
In their defense, though, I’ve never seen any of their players wearing a helmet backwards during a game. (Sometimes I do suspect that they play with their eyes closed.) Well, enough of beating a dead bird as it were. Rather then dwelling on the obvious, In Your Ear will offer suggestions on how the Big Dead can improve.
After all, they, like the Vandeventer Overpass, are considered a civic resource! (1) Stop keeping score at the games.
This is simple, but very effective.
With no score, there would be no winners and, more relevant for us, no losers. See, I told you that was simple! (2) Move the team to Saskatoon. That’s right, put ’em on skates and pass them off as a hockey team (after all, they’ve been passed off as a football team for years now.) With their girth and fighting ability, it’d be several weeks before anyone in the N.H.L. noticed.
In their place, I’d put a giant tinted mirror on the field at Busch Stadium.
Each visiting team would think their reflections were their opponents (remember Groucho in “A Night at the Races”?) and, no doubt, leave town baffled.
This could go on indefinitely until Commissioner Rozelle noticed a series of 0-0 ties coming from St. Louis. (3) Hijack another N.F.L. team and force them to play here.
This probably wouldn’t work, but it’d make a great movie starring Charleton Heston and Bo Derrick (she doesn’t really have anything to do with the plot, but her presence would make the movie lots more interesting!). (4) Sabotage opposing teams.
They could be forced to watch reruns of the Miss Universe Pageant before every game.
This would dull their reflexes and lull them to sleep (as it did everyone else who watched).
If the Miss Universe Pageant didn’t do the trick and they were still semi-alert, we could send them on a Ladue house tour which would guarantee lethargy and somnambulant behavior.
Well, I agree that each of the preceding plans has its flaws, but don’t despair fair reader, I’ve saved the best for last. (5) Fire the players and replace them with animals from the St. Louis Zoo.
This one has loads of potential.
After all, Marlin Perkins does look quite a bit like Bud Wilkinson.
The gorillas would make great defensive linemen, the gazelles would be extraordinary receivers, and the kangaroos would be super quarterbacks.
After all, even if the animals had trouble memorizing their plays, the team would always be protected by the good seal of approval!
Originally published in The Paper, October 1983.
Read this article in the original newspaper issue.
Original source: SD_Times1983_10.pdf, printed page(s) 8; PDF page(s) 8.
