Tel Aviv - I missed the Super Bowl. Stuck on a flight to Tel Aviv, wedged in
between a go go dancer from Australia and a Nike salesman from Korea, I sweated
out the nine hour trip back to the holy land via the Trans Jordan express, a newly
formed airline of Arab and Israeli commandos, drug addicts, and grotesque stewardesses.
Hair should not grow on certain parts of the body.All I needed was a television. My kingdom for a TV. What I got was a set of ear phones and a screening of Home Alone III. Will somebody tie that kid to a pole and blow his head off aka Bill Burroughs in Mexico. Only, no bow and arrow this time. Let's go for the M-16. Ka-pow. Try and throw some marbles under that one, bub.
However, before I could drift too deeply into sans-football depression, my eye caught eye of a burly figure in the back of the plane with an oversized cowboy hat shoved down over his face. Could it be? Would it be? It would. It was. Barry Switzer. The gun toting law breaker and former Sooner/Cowboy coach. He, too, was missing the Super Bowl. He, too, had been left for dead after the Cowboy's last Super Bowl win several years ago. What was he doing here, far from the action, away from the front, hiding on a trans-atlantic flight to the Middle East?
"Get away from me you little shit before I stab you with this fork," Switzer said to me as I plopped down beside him.
"Barry, what went wrong? Why did Jones axe you? Why Barry? Why didn't you just shoot the Texan bastard? Emmit would have stood by you. Troy would have stood up for you."
"They lynched me," Switzer said. "Just like they done in Oklahoma. I'm the Jesus of professional football."
"But why the Middle East? Why Tel Aviv?"
"I figure, them Israelis are tough as nails. Look what they done to Iraq. So, I said to myself, why not start a football league? The Tel Aviv Cowboys. The Haifa Oilers. Yeah, why the hell not?"
"Why the hell not? Why the hell not, you big dumb ass! Are you kidding? Football here? Where the hell are you going to find a line backer? Where a defensive back? Look at their basketball league! It makes the Denver Nuggets look like the Lakers! Have you been drinking?"
"Just these vodka and grapefruit mixes I bought at duty free."
"Snap out of it Switzer. Get a life! Get a haircut! Get laid! Just abandon this shit for brains idea of yours."
Switzer glared out the little window to his left. I thought I could see a tear in his eye. He choked.
"I just wanted one more ring. One more ring."
Sure you did, I thought. Sure you did. Another ringt to choke on. But it just wasn't your night. And it probably never will be again. Maybe football's finally showing its age. Maybe the rock and roll days of the 70s Dolphins or the Steelers and Cowboy battles of the same era are over. Maybe football is heading for the baseball hall of grave. A forgotten past time, a buried glory lost to the greed of bigger guns, bigger bellies, mo money, mo money, mo money. Maybe it was time for me to lay off the vodka and grapefruit. Man, that stuff's got a kick. Got me to wishing that I was still dating Charo if you know what I mean.
"Cheer up kid," I said. "You'll coach again. I know you will. I hear East Montana State's got an opening. Or you can always try Miami. The university of, that is."