By Christina Abt
Buffalo, NY – I have a father who loves to tell stories. In fact, even today, I can still clearly recall many of the tales he regularly told around our family's dinner table. One of my all-time favorites was a story dad often repeated about a good friend of his named Emory, who played the tuba.
Now it seems that Emory was a member of the University of Buffalo Marching Band, a well respected unit whose main function was to entertain at halftime of the university's football games. According to my dad, one particular week Emory couldn't attend all of the band's practices. As a result, this string bean of a tuba player didn't receive a last minute marching order change to execute an about face at the ten yard line and return to midfield, rather than proceed to the end zone at the end of the performance.
So, one particularly brilliant autumn Saturday afternoon, as the UB band went through their halftime marching moves before thousands of collegiate football fans, they completed an about face at the ten yard line and headed back toward mid field that is except for Emory who continued to march, on his own, toward the end zone.
Now one might think that as errant Emory became increasingly aware of his marching mistake he would have reversed and scurried back to the security of his musical compatriates. Oh, no, not this man of distinctive name and nature. Instead, Emory completed his marching drill as it was originally designed, turning around only when he entered the end zone. He then continued his solo performance strutting all the way back to his midfield marching unit, never missing a step in time or a beat in music. In reward, Emory received a standing ovation from the fans who cheered him in delighted support.
It is this mid 1950's halftime "disaster" that has been running through my mind since Janet Jackson's recent Super Bowl "exposition." Like millions of world wide viewers, I engaged in the hoopla surrounding this year's Super Bowl extravaganza. I chipped and dipped, I pizza'd and winged, I picked my squares and made my bets, I viewed and rated each and every multi million dollar commercial, and .oh yes .every once in a while I caught a glimpse of what turned out to be an excellent football game.
However, the one thing I did not do on that cold and snowy January Sunday was watch the halftime show. Why? Quite simply because for years now, I have found it to be a waste of my time. Ever since the National Football League (NFL) allowed Hollywood to turn the Super Bowl Halftime Show into a garishly gargantuan, over produced, excessively staged and phony form of football intermission, it has lost all meaning to me, relative to the sport.
For my nickel, I think the NFL should bring back marching band halftimes with baton twirlers and flag swirlers. They could even throw in an athletic band leader, sporting one of those tall fur hats, to lead the way. Keep it simple and snappy. Let it compliment, not distract, from the game. If they did, I'm willing to bet that people around the world would stand up and cheer for a return to a simpler form of halftime entertainment
...just like in the days of good old "Wrong Way" Emory.