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Page A4 The Joan De Arc Crusader / Thursday, December 25, 2008 Front Page A1 / Editorials A2 / Entertainment A3 / Crossword A5
Good vibrations By J. Bueker
For some reason, my siblings and I felt somewhat deprived as kids. Our perception at the time was that many of our peers were receiving palpably superior treatment to ourselves in the form of bitchin’ toys, color TVs, family vacations, outdoor swimming pools, yummy brand-name treats, and so forth. That dang Mark Wells was always getting a new tommy gun or bike or some such. And don’t even talk to me about Jodi. Perhaps such feelings of deprivation are merely an ingrained characteristic of the childhood mentality, since in retrospect I realize we actually had it pretty good. When I contemplate my collection of toys, games, books and food collectibles from that period, which represents but a tiny fraction of what we actually possessed, it becomes clear that our lot was in fact a bountiful one. Most importantly of course, our family unit constituted a cohesive and happy household. However, what does remain indisputable is that my dearly departed daddy was a cheap son of a gun. Now this matter has been belabored in these pages ad nauseam, and it is important to remember that the man’s finer qualities greatly outweighed this particular aberration. Permit me however to indulge in yet another example, from a Christmas forty years ago. A happy memory in spite of – or perhaps even thanks to – Carl’s legendary frugality. 1968 was the year I first became immersed in the glories of the gridiron, most particularly the goings-on in the National Football League. I am uncertain as to what exactly sparked my relatively sudden interest in the game, but it was surely inspired to some degree by the fact that I had been introduced to the joys of flag football in my 5th grade P.E. class at Sahuaro School. That my father had been glued to the television watching games on autumn Sundays for the entire duration of my lifetime was apparently not a contributing factor, as it was only now that I took my place by his side.
Needless to say, my ultimate focus of interest in life as a ten-year-old that fall was the approaching Christmas season, and the vitally important question of what demands to make of dear Santa. My growing infatuation with all things pigskin ensured the category of interest I would pursue, and I felt myself increasingly drawn to the electric football games that had captured my interest at local department stores like Milt’s and Globe. When the ‘68 Sears Wish Book catalog finally arrived at 3219, but a brief perusal was necessary to finalize my fateful decision. It was all so very clear: I must be enabled to simulate a football competition at home using small three-dimensional plastic players vibrating on a thin sheet of metal. Customary digression: The pastime of electric football actually has a fairly interesting history. First created in 1947 by Tudor Games, “Electric Ball” was adapted from a vibrating car game technology the company had developed several years earlier. An immediate hit, electric football went on to sell over 40 million sets in the ensuing years. Eclipsed of course in recent decades by computer simulations like the endless “Madden” series, electric football games are still produced today and sell in surprisingly respectable numbers. Electric football leagues, clubs and tournaments persist around the country, and there’s even an official Electric Football Super Bowl and convention held each January. It’s good to see that some items from a simpler time have not yet yielded to the ravenous tyranny of computer technology. By 1968, Tudor was offering a variety of EF games that varied significantly in quality and price, and thereby hangs the crux of our tale. The Wish Book that fall featured three different sets: “Big Bowl Electric Football,” “NFL Electric Football,” and something called “Electric Pro Football.” I required very little time to settle upon my preference among the three. “Big Bowl” was the most expensive and elaborate set. Priced at an eye-popping $13.88, it featured an expansive 36x21-inch field, a large and complex multi-tiered grandstand with scoreboard and pennants, four teams, a magnetic ball, a 3-man yardage marker, and a set of assorted color paints for designing your own teams. Most impressive! However, I summarily eliminated this option. “Big Bowl” was not an officially licensed NFL product. It made no mention of the league at all, and this became less than acceptable when I contemplated Option #2. “NFL Electric Football” was the real deal. It offered a slightly smaller field and less impressive grandstand, but these details were of little import. This was clearly the coolest set. The sides of the game field were adorned with the helmets of all the NFL teams of the day, and the two teams that came with the set were in the official helmets and colors of two actual NFL clubs. Surprisingly, the game was significantly less expensive than “Big Bowl” – a mere $10.77. This was a little more than half of what Santa had spent on my telescope the previous Christmas. Not much to think about here. The choice seemed obvious. I paid scant attention to the third and final option, deceptively named “Electric Pro Football.” This was the economy model electric football game in all respects. For the rock bottom price of $7.99, you got the basics: a nondescript 29x15-inch field, a small cheesy grandstand and scoreboard, and two teams colored solid yellow and white. That was about it. The more expensive sets featured deluxe player bases that could be manipulated to affect the direction the players would take once the field was activated, but not so with the el cheapo set. Pity the poor underprivileged youth who would have to make do with this stripped down imposter.
I fully expected to receive the specific game for which I had made my solemn request, and thought little further about it. Imagine my surprise on Christmas morn when I opened my gift wrappings and discovered “Electric Pro Football” concealed therein. Huh? Did I not make my choice clear enough to the parental units? Had there been a miscommunication of some nature with Santa? My perplexity swiftly dissipated as I was informed that, for financial reasons, the decision had been taken to opt for the cheaper set. That’s right, folks. For a measly two dollars and seventy-eight cents, I was deprived of the electric football game of my dreams. Now I realize that $2.78 was a lot more in 1968 than it is today, but sweet lord. I would have been more than willing to forgo Cheez-Its for a few weeks to make up the difference. Despite my disappointment, I learned to enjoy my electric football set. My plan for that Christmas Day was to synchronize my first game with the traditional Blue-Gray Football Classic on TV, a college all-star game that was played in Montgomery, Alabama on Christmas for many years. The general idea was to time my first electric football contest using the TV game as a guide, rather than heeding the primitive timing mechanism that was incorporated into my new toy. The plan deteriorated quickly of course, as it proved nearly impossible to keep track of the game clock on TV while simultaneously playing a separate game that had to be constantly started and stopped using an electrical switch. My opponent in that inaugural contest, my brother Charles, rapidly lost interest and slinked off to play with his own Christmas goodies. I could hardly blame him. Ah well, the best laid plans. After a little experience playing electric football, we began to perceive some of its shortcomings as an entertainment device. An inordinate amount of time was required to position the players for each play, and they almost never traveled in the intended direction once the playing field was switched on. Some players would simply fall over and twitch frenetically as if afflicted with a severe neurological disorder, while others would wander off in completely random directions, including toward the wrong goal line. In order to throw a pass, the play would have to be stopped in midstream and a special “quarterback” player introduced to the field. The team manager was then required to insert the cloth football in his quarterback’s throwing arm, pull it back, release it, and then somehow hit the intended receiver downfield. This almost never happened. The “quarterback” was also capable of kicking field goals, an endeavor that proved to be an even less frequent success. Electric football was certainly fun at first, but I am uncertain that we ever did get through a complete sixty-minute game. It was just too much damn trouble. As a reasonably responsible adult, I now find myself a bit more sympathetic toward my father’s habit of pinching those proverbial pennies. After all, he faced the substantial responsibility of supporting a wife and four kids, and he was doubtlessly more generous with his children than his instincts actually dictated. And the simple fact is this: there were boys my age in 1968 who would have been thrilled to open that el cheapo electric football game on Christmas morning and who instead received little or nothing. Combine these realizations with a habit of viewing the whole Joan De Arc phenomenon through deeply tinted rose-colored glasses, and we arrive at a genuinely happy childhood memory. I found an old “Electric Pro Football” set on eBay a few years ago and now proudly display it in my library. I even tried playing with it a bit, and discovered anew that it’s a whole lot of fun for about fifteen minutes. You know, I was a lucky kid. Very lucky. Merry Christmas. _________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________JDA
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