Nixon Calling the
Play
“Here’s an interesting
thesis,” Lapius said, folding the paper longitudinally, and peering at the
editorial page.
“What is an interesting
thesis?” I asked S.Q. Lapius, peering over his shoulder and trying to
read the small print.
“This fellow says that
President Nixon merely epitomizes the average American. That his problems
merely represent some cumulative total of what we all are guilty of.
Namely sharp practices, conniving, contempt for our fellow citizens, and
adherence to the adage that anything short of murder goes as long as it helps
us get ahead.”
“Surely that seems a bit
extreme,” I said. “Murder should be included too.”
“You know, Harry,
remarks such as that are not very constructive, are they?”
“Maybe not, Simon, but I
don’t like being lumped together with President Nixon. I have nothing
against him personally, mind you. As a matter of fact, I even won a few
bucks on him on the last election. But I see no advantage at this stage
of becoming what might be his sole supporter. After all, why should
ordinary citizens like you and I be implicated in an orgy of national guilt
because Nixon has problems?”
“No Harry. I think
that this fellow has something. Sure Nixon has problems. You
remember when he was just starting out they used to ask, ‘would you buy a used
car from Nixon?’ But the fact is, that if the used care salesman is
dishonest as a breed why do we tolerate and make jokes about it.”
“Actually we have sort
of accepted the sharp practice and chicanery as the American way for too
long. We sympathize with people who cheat on their income tax, and take
pride in the loopholes, pad our expense accounts. We don’t do this
directly. Actually our accountants do it reflexly. But we certainly
don’t discourage them.”
“Simon what are you
saying? That the whole country is one big collective crook? That’s
silly. As a matter of fact I just heard the president say he wasn’t a
crook.”
Lapius smiled.
“Maybe you are right, Harry. It’s just that I’ve always thought of America
in terms of hard, honest, competitive ethic, and of course that’s how I’d like
her to be. As a matter of fact, until yesterday I was willing to accept
that proposition that in the main that’s what America was.”
“What happened
yesterday?”
“A football game.”
“And that changed your
mind? What happened in the football game? Did they hand out too
many penalties?”
“No. Actually it
seems a minor point but I think it important.”
“You think what
important?” I was interested now in the football game. I didn’t know who
had played or who had won, but I suddenly became intrigued with this great game
that changed Lapius’s mind about the character of America.
“You know the rule about
coaches not being allowed to call plays from the sidelines?” Lapius asked
owlishly.
“Of course.
Instead they send in players to the huddle with the plays they want run.”
“But this year this is a
new wrinkle. The player with the play is just a messenger. He hands
the play to the quarterback, turns around and scampers off the field. He
doesn’t even have to play.”
“I know that Lapius,” I
said impatiently, “But what changed you mind about
America?”
“That did it. The
messenger.”
“Why, for goodness
sake? That’s ridiculous. I don’t follow you.”
“Look at it this way. Harry.
Why can’t the coach call plays from the sidelines?”
“Because he’s not
allowed to.”
“But why isn’t he
allowed to?”
“I don’t know. I
never thought about it.”
“That’s one trouble with
America right there. Too many people not thinking about it. Anyway,
the reason that coaches weren’t allowed to call plays was because years back
the athletic societies thought that it would be nice to have football no more
than a test between the two teams of college kids. Not a test of the
brains of the coaches. So they made a rule that the coach couldn’t sit on
the sidelines and waggle his score-card to signal plays to the
quarterback. So the coaches got around this by sending players in to
play, shuttling guards, who brought the plays in, stayed for one play, and then
gave way to the other guard with the next play. This was really a fraud,
but the referees couldn’t stop it because there was no rule against
substitution. But this year, the player bringing in the play doesn’t even
have to play one single play. He is strictly a messenger. So in
actuality, the coach is signaling from the sidelines. By allowing the
coach to send in a messenger, the league has institutionalized a procedure that
flouts its own original rule, that the coach shouldn’t call the plays. So
although he still isn’t allowed to call the plays, he is allowed to send in a
messenger to talk to the team. I think that this is the kind of thing
America has been doing. It has been hiding behind the rule book, finding
loopholes, then changing the rule book ever so slightly to accommodate the new
infraction. Finally the original meaning of the rule is lost. After all,
isn’t it true that when the motormen in New York decide to go on strike, they
threaten the city that they will follow the rule-book to the letter?”
“Don’t you think it is
silly to prevent the coach from calling plays?”
“Sure,” Lapius said,
“That’s a dumb rule to begin with. But instead of getting rid of the
rule, they paper it over with new rules. Well it doesn’t really matter,”
Lapius continued, “I don’t like football that much anyway.”