The bar cleared out quite a bit once the game was over, although a few people remained. Arthur, Martin, and Douglas continued their chat now that the place was quieter, snacking on peanuts as they talked.
“It’s hopeless. I mean, you know I can’t even get things in football straight – I mean, our football – and I’m supposed to, otherwise you can’t socialize properly in these days,” Martin said with an eye roll. Wistfully, he added in a much quieter voice, “I’ve never gotten the hang of football. This wouldn’t really work back home when I can’t even tell people which club I support. Or the basics of how the game works.”
“Oh, Skipper, football’s easy. It’s just ‘put the ball in the goal.’ Like how basketball is ‘put the ball in the basket,’ and hockey is ‘put the puck in the net,’” Arthur put in helpfully. He gave Martin a sympathetic look. “Those are all so simple, though. American football though, that makes no sense.”
“I’m with you there, Arthur. That was fun, watching the game with everyone, but I still didn’t know what was going on,” Martin agreed.
“Well, it’s not your fault, because it doesn’t make sense. It’s got all those downs, and you yards and things. If there’s downs, how come there aren’t ups? Or maybe there are ups? And so many numbers with the yards and the keeping track of how many downs you’ve got. I mean, who wants to do maths when you’re watching sports?”
“As a matter of fact, the Arthur Shappey School of Thought For Oversimplifying Team Sports does apply to American football, surprisingly. It’s ‘put the egg-shaped thing on the other side of the field.’ As far as I can tell, anyway,” Douglas said.
“Oh, right. Something about end zones or whatnot. Still, there’s just too much to keep track of. What about when that one chap said they were putting the special teams in? Is that like when that engineer who doesn’t work at the airfield anymore asked if I was special, and then Mum called him a – well, you heard what she called him,” Arthur babbled.
Martin chuckled at the memory, and Douglas replied with a hint of laughter in his voice, “I’m not too clear on what they meant by ‘special teams’ either. It’s a confusing term at best. Perhaps it is the same meaning as intended by that engineer who, rightfully so, does not work at the airfield anymore.”
“Right. But you know what the main problem I have with American football is it’s just so dull,” Arthur declared.
“But you were having so much fun!” Martin said with a good amount of surprise in his voice.
“Only because I was with you two! You guys make everything fun,” Arthur said. “I loved cheering the team on with you two. Doesn’t mean it wasn’t annoying every time they’d stop the play. On its own, American football is dull.”
Martin was suddenly overcome with the confusion of how Arthur, who found everything to be brilliant, could say that anything was “dull.” This was mixed with the faint pleasure of Arthur’s compliment. In all, Martin couldn’t figure out how to respond, so he just said nothing. Douglas was too much in agreement with Arthur’s assessment of American football to be as conflicted. His response was a simple, “Oh?”
“Terribly dull, yes. They always stop and start every minute! See, they’re doing it right now!” Arthur frowned and gestured angrily at the television.
“That’s a replay.” Douglas wondered if he would have to remind Arthur that they had just been celebrating the end of the game moments prior.
“Oh. But… they’re doing it in the replay!”
“Fair enough,” Douglas conceded.
“Once something gets going, it just all stops again, and then the players are milling about, while the coaches talk about something.” Arthur groaned loudly at the television. Martin and Douglas each gave him their own version of a funny look – their happy-go-lucky steward did whinge about things sometimes, but American football would not have been their first guess for “things that annoy Arthur Shappey.”
“You know what would make American football better? If it was somehow, I don’t know, more interesting to watch. Like, maybe there could be a puma,” Arthur said brightly.
Martin sputtered into his beer.
“Could this perhaps be another one of those instances where a word doesn’t mean what you think it means?” Douglas asked.
“Erm… does ‘puma’ not mean ‘big scary mountain lion’?” Arthur asked.
“It does,” Martin assured him, having successfully held back his laughter. To Douglas, he said, “Looks like it’s actually just another one of those instances of Arthur being Arthur.”
A faint smile played at Douglas’s lips as he said, “I’m always grateful for a reminder that I will never understand the way your brain works, Arthur. Nor do I ever wish to.”
“No, really! Think about it! When you’re dashing down that field doing an 80-yard run, how on Earth could you justify blowing that whistle and stopping the play… when there’s a puma chasing the running back?”
“I… guess you couldn’t, Arthur. Right you are,” Martin agreed hesitantly.
“I’m impressed. That sounded rather convincing,” Douglas said. There was a strange sense of pride in him – muddled together with disbelief – that Arthur had somehow managed to memorize a part of his random sports trivia. Apparently, when Arthur had asked to have it, he had actually intended on keeping it.
“So, you’d just have a puma, set loose onto the football field, to… what, do as it pleases during the course of the game?”
“Yes, and the players would have to still play by regulation whilst avoiding the puma,” Arthur insisted.
“Would there be a puma per team?” Martin asked.
“Hmm…” Arthur thought for a moment. “Now, that is an interesting point. Perhaps you could either have one puma on the loose, terrorizing both sides, or you could have two, and you’ve trained your own puma to only go after the other team.”
Martin burst out laughing, and even Douglas let out a chuckle. “The field of sports medicine would enjoy a sudden boom if this gets introduced,” Douglas said.
Arthur wasn’t finished. He added, “And then, as you said, since the point of the game is ‘put the egg-shaped thing in the end zone,’ what if you get to the end zone, but the challenge isn’t over yet? There’s still another puma to be dealt with. You can’t score a touchdown until you’ve avoided the final puma.”
Martin cracked up, and let out an enthused “Yes, of course!” Then, he gasped as an idea came to him. “But what if the final challenge wasn’t to avoid the last puma? What if you’re meant to meet it head on, and actually tackle the puma in the end zone?”
“Yes, brilliant! Absolutely, Skip! You don’t score your touchdown until you’ve tackled the last puma!” Arthur shouted with a big grin.
“I like it,” declared Douglas. When the other two nodded their agreement, Douglas took a sip of his apple juice, and added, “That, by the way, is an up. A down is a whatever the hell it is, and an up is when you’ve managed to tackle a puma without becoming eviscerated by it.”
Football Pumas 2/3
“It’s hopeless. I mean, you know I can’t even get things in football straight – I mean, our football – and I’m supposed to, otherwise you can’t socialize properly in these days,” Martin said with an eye roll. Wistfully, he added in a much quieter voice, “I’ve never gotten the hang of football. This wouldn’t really work back home when I can’t even tell people which club I support. Or the basics of how the game works.”
“Oh, Skipper, football’s easy. It’s just ‘put the ball in the goal.’ Like how basketball is ‘put the ball in the basket,’ and hockey is ‘put the puck in the net,’” Arthur put in helpfully. He gave Martin a sympathetic look. “Those are all so simple, though. American football though, that makes no sense.”
“I’m with you there, Arthur. That was fun, watching the game with everyone, but I still didn’t know what was going on,” Martin agreed.
“Well, it’s not your fault, because it doesn’t make sense. It’s got all those downs, and you yards and things. If there’s downs, how come there aren’t ups? Or maybe there are ups? And so many numbers with the yards and the keeping track of how many downs you’ve got. I mean, who wants to do maths when you’re watching sports?”
“As a matter of fact, the Arthur Shappey School of Thought For Oversimplifying Team Sports does apply to American football, surprisingly. It’s ‘put the egg-shaped thing on the other side of the field.’ As far as I can tell, anyway,” Douglas said.
“Oh, right. Something about end zones or whatnot. Still, there’s just too much to keep track of. What about when that one chap said they were putting the special teams in? Is that like when that engineer who doesn’t work at the airfield anymore asked if I was special, and then Mum called him a – well, you heard what she called him,” Arthur babbled.
Martin chuckled at the memory, and Douglas replied with a hint of laughter in his voice, “I’m not too clear on what they meant by ‘special teams’ either. It’s a confusing term at best. Perhaps it is the same meaning as intended by that engineer who, rightfully so, does not work at the airfield anymore.”
“Right. But you know what the main problem I have with American football is it’s just so dull,” Arthur declared.
“But you were having so much fun!” Martin said with a good amount of surprise in his voice.
“Only because I was with you two! You guys make everything fun,” Arthur said. “I loved cheering the team on with you two. Doesn’t mean it wasn’t annoying every time they’d stop the play. On its own, American football is dull.”
Martin was suddenly overcome with the confusion of how Arthur, who found everything to be brilliant, could say that anything was “dull.” This was mixed with the faint pleasure of Arthur’s compliment. In all, Martin couldn’t figure out how to respond, so he just said nothing. Douglas was too much in agreement with Arthur’s assessment of American football to be as conflicted. His response was a simple, “Oh?”
“Terribly dull, yes. They always stop and start every minute! See, they’re doing it right now!” Arthur frowned and gestured angrily at the television.
“That’s a replay.” Douglas wondered if he would have to remind Arthur that they had just been celebrating the end of the game moments prior.
“Oh. But… they’re doing it in the replay!”
“Fair enough,” Douglas conceded.
“Once something gets going, it just all stops again, and then the players are milling about, while the coaches talk about something.” Arthur groaned loudly at the television. Martin and Douglas each gave him their own version of a funny look – their happy-go-lucky steward did whinge about things sometimes, but American football would not have been their first guess for “things that annoy Arthur Shappey.”
“You know what would make American football better? If it was somehow, I don’t know, more interesting to watch. Like, maybe there could be a puma,” Arthur said brightly.
Martin sputtered into his beer.
“Could this perhaps be another one of those instances where a word doesn’t mean what you think it means?” Douglas asked.
“Erm… does ‘puma’ not mean ‘big scary mountain lion’?” Arthur asked.
“It does,” Martin assured him, having successfully held back his laughter. To Douglas, he said, “Looks like it’s actually just another one of those instances of Arthur being Arthur.”
A faint smile played at Douglas’s lips as he said, “I’m always grateful for a reminder that I will never understand the way your brain works, Arthur. Nor do I ever wish to.”
“No, really! Think about it! When you’re dashing down that field doing an 80-yard run, how on Earth could you justify blowing that whistle and stopping the play… when there’s a puma chasing the running back?”
“I… guess you couldn’t, Arthur. Right you are,” Martin agreed hesitantly.
“I’m impressed. That sounded rather convincing,” Douglas said. There was a strange sense of pride in him – muddled together with disbelief – that Arthur had somehow managed to memorize a part of his random sports trivia. Apparently, when Arthur had asked to have it, he had actually intended on keeping it.
“So, you’d just have a puma, set loose onto the football field, to… what, do as it pleases during the course of the game?”
“Yes, and the players would have to still play by regulation whilst avoiding the puma,” Arthur insisted.
“Would there be a puma per team?” Martin asked.
“Hmm…” Arthur thought for a moment. “Now, that is an interesting point. Perhaps you could either have one puma on the loose, terrorizing both sides, or you could have two, and you’ve trained your own puma to only go after the other team.”
Martin burst out laughing, and even Douglas let out a chuckle. “The field of sports medicine would enjoy a sudden boom if this gets introduced,” Douglas said.
Arthur wasn’t finished. He added, “And then, as you said, since the point of the game is ‘put the egg-shaped thing in the end zone,’ what if you get to the end zone, but the challenge isn’t over yet? There’s still another puma to be dealt with. You can’t score a touchdown until you’ve avoided the final puma.”
Martin cracked up, and let out an enthused “Yes, of course!” Then, he gasped as an idea came to him. “But what if the final challenge wasn’t to avoid the last puma? What if you’re meant to meet it head on, and actually tackle the puma in the end zone?”
“Yes, brilliant! Absolutely, Skip! You don’t score your touchdown until you’ve tackled the last puma!” Arthur shouted with a big grin.
“I like it,” declared Douglas. When the other two nodded their agreement, Douglas took a sip of his apple juice, and added, “That, by the way, is an up. A down is a whatever the hell it is, and an up is when you’ve managed to tackle a puma without becoming eviscerated by it.”