I have retained my love for hot dogs. Everything you hear about weiners ain't bad, right Dandy? Besides, the hot dog is sort of an institution. Whoever heard of a sports concessions stand without hot dogs?
There is at least one other sports institution, however, that puts me to sleep and that is the Halftime Ceremony.
A lot of nice, talented young people devote hours to football's intermission and I commend them for their interest, dedication and discipline. It is just that a sameness has crept into the halftime routine.
Remember when the Radio City Music Hall Rockettes made news with their chorus line of high-kicking beauties?
These days, the Rockettes couldn't even make the traveling squad at most high schools. Everybody has a chorus line of high-kicking beauties, except maybe Texas A&M.
Remember when the Carlton Cadettes made news by marching on the field, their crisp white uniforms gleaming, glockenspiels going ting-a-ling, trumpets blaring as the group formed a huge block "D" for good old Davis High?
Today, marching bands prance and play and form intricate patterns stretching goal-to-goal.
I've heard some very good bands play some very good music and the leggy little creatures executing bumps and grinds in perfect rhythm beat watching Coaches Corner. But they're beginning to look the same and sound the same and, generally speaking, they all do the same. I guess I'm getting old. I'm guess I'm jaded.
I was about to enjoy missing another halftime show last week at the Rice-Arkansas game. The Rice band was poised at the south end of the field. Then it sort of marched out, followed by a ragtag bunch carrying bananas and what transpired was a thoroughly entertaining half-hour. I mean, it was different. Who else do you know pays tribute to the banana?
I watched the student body through my field glasses. The kids seemed to thoroughly enjoy the performance. I watched the band. It was having more fun than anybody.
The call themselves The Mob, this group of pixilated musicians, and they're rootin' tootin' satire on halftime shows everywhere. Except they're not really trying to put anybody down. They're just having fun.
The Mob grew out of adversity. Three years ago. a former symphony musician named Bert Roth sat over a cup of coffee with two of his band majors, John Troutt and Allen Woelfel, and discussed the problems of a Rice band woefully short of people and practice time.
The Owl band played good music but it didn't have the personnel it takes for big production numbers. Roth couldn't even get everybody out to practice at the same time.
"We were trying to find where we belonged," Roth said. "We hit on this idea. The kids loved it. You should see the spirit at practice. They come out there and leave their frustrations behind. They make up the routines. sometimes the student body passes on ideas. We're trying to say 'You can have a whole lot of fun and be entertaining without the trauma that goes with rigid band routines."
One of the band's first productions, three years ago, was a salute to the human stomach. It soured some of the old grads, who perhaps have forgotten what it was like to be young. Another time, the band marched backward.
The Mob once dedicated a performance to Spiro Agnew, saluting the former vice president with "Fools on the Hill," but Roth says he wouldn't do it now. "Too serious, now," he said.
"Our masterpeice," he said, "was at Texas last week. We got a standing ovation. We marched out with a tiny bass drum in a little red wagon, carrying 12 mops instead of banners, and presented the Texas band with The World's Largest Bass Drum-Beater."
You should see what The Mob has cooked up for the Texas Aggies Saturday.
"A lot of people don't really like what we're doing," Roth said, "but it's enjoyable and interesting for the kids. And it's all in the spirit of friendly competition."