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IF Football Were a Shakespearean Sport (in Db).
G David Schwartz
"G'd day, gents and mydamns. We are gathered here to witness the flamdaneries of the
ye ole' Cincinnati Ben-gals and de de-trot Tigers, and ye know I been a little late to get to the
kick 'in place so I jest hove a moment beefier the game will get underway so let me put my microphone
about me neck and, yes, there she goes! It is a jolly high kick, making the birds fly just out of the
way. Now, one, well I cannot see his number very well for the moment, but, oh. Okay there we go.
Here we go, its number 78, which everybody knows is Robert Red Wing. And, my, he certainty looks smashing
in his blue and gold uniform. But unfortunately the poor lad is down there lying in a giant piddles of
people and a patter of what we might call, as they do here in the southern states a "cluster
fork?" Well lads and lasses these American
players are now in one of their famous puddles of Hud, I think the original name was huddle but I have no recognition
that that be true. Ahhh
now I see. The game is leering as flies to wanton boys who ask who the gods of the game may be. But
poor lad, the world. The world is strange by mutations. And as it seems life would not yield to age.
Now. They have
gone again into one of their short meetings and, yes, now they all get out of the circle into a lines
and the one person who is allowed to standup most of the time shouts at the top of his lungs something which
sounds both strangely like and oddly like, "The rule in this realm, and the gored of state sustain.
It did sound romantically like a play I once performed and I was just about to make a guess of which
play it was when the crowd around me stated bleeping into horrendous cheers and my ears began
to hurt so bad that I had to leave. Well
bonny homeland, I apologize for leaving but, as my mum always told me, "Keep your health and your health will
keep you. So cheery'o. I will see you on the court and best of the gab to you. G; d nit
all. And be good to all others.

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