“Ah, Reg, that was satisfying.”
“If you say so, Syd.”
“Yes, yes. I know what you think about college football. But I’m grateful that you’re willing to let me share my filthy habits with you once in awhile. Your media suite was perfect for viewing the Orange Bowl. Better than being there.”
“Especially at what I hear is a dump of a stadium. I would have gotten us one of their so-called ‘luxury’ boxes – a trivial New Year’s gift – but they were so totally inadequate, I thought this would be the better option.”
“So it was, so it was. And even better to see a school with real students do so well in the game. A tribute to the legacy of one of us, eh?”
“I suppose. Still, with all the brain power they’re supposed to have on that campus, I’m surprised it’s taken them so long to figure out how to run a successful professional sports franchise that doesn’t look like one. But, Syd, did we really have to put up with the, egad, Goo Goo Dolls at halftime? Whatever happened to the marching bands that once went with college football games?”
“You didn’t hear, Reg?”
“Obviously not.”
“They were banned. The Orange Bowl organizers threw them out.”
“They were that bad?”
“Well, one of ’em was. Not so much musically, but, um, politically. The Stanford Band was promising to get, ah, up to their old tricks. The press release said they were afraid the band’s routine would diss a local pro sports figure. What they really were worried about, I reckon, was that the band would diss the entire sports world, and, especially, would offend a major sponsor or three.”
“They did right to ban them, then, Syd. Still, that brings back memories.”
“Y’mean, the old protestin’ days of the ’60s and ’70s, when everything our elders did was fair game for tearing down?”
“By ridicule or by bulldozer. Those were indeed the days. We learned a lot, didn’t we?”
“Certainly we did. When somebody gives you an opportunity to bring them down and put yourself in their place, take it.”
“And having taken advantage of such opportunity yourself, don’t give anyone else the same chance!”
“I’ll drink to that.”
“Cognac?”
“Perfect.”