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October 16, 1982 - Image 4

Resource type:
Text
Publication:
The Michigan Daily, 1982-10-16

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OPINION

Page 4 Saturday, October 16, 1982 The Michigan Daily

Wolverine

hoopla:

A

thrill a minute

a

By Phillip Lawes
jt was a mild afternoon; a gentle Oc-
tober breeze fanned the campus as a
reluctant sun peered through tran-
slucent gray sies. This idyllic setting
was perfect for watching the flower of
Midwestern youth attempt to shove
their cleats down each others' throats.
Hence, I ventured out to Michigan
St'adium for my first Wolverine football
0d.ntest.
I was almost bursting with
exhilaration as I approached the
Shrine. Inexplicably, my fellow
,pilgrims seemed rather blase. Weren't
they excited to be part of this milling,
swirling mass of collegiate good cheer?
MANY SEEMED annoyed by the
Acalpers. They obviously didn't
recognize the crucial role these people
,play in enhancing the University's
jrestige. Why, without them our tickets
would sell for $6 or some such obscene
price. Who would respect our football
program then?
I wandered about in the carnival at-
rosphere in front of gate 10. There
were official and unofficial vendors,
scalpers, scalpers' clients, politicians
(and their banner-holders and
sticker-passers), winos, and
professors. Overhead, aircraft circled
trailing banners containing rousing
slogans: "E.T. call Chuck Wilson Pon-
tiac," for example.
One man proclaimed, "A girl for a
ticket! A girl for a ticket!" Passersby
glanced at the woman sitting on his
shoulders and scurried away, clutching

their tickets.
BO SCHEMBECHLER commanded
great loyalty. A large man in
dreadlocks standing by the gate en-
thusiastically expressed his school
spirit. "Go Blue! Schembegwer !
Schemburger!" he shouted in a rich
baritone given added resonance by
large quantities of beer.
Two feet away from me, a gentleman
expressed his disdain for the
beerification of the deity's name. "Say
it right, asshole," he snarled
menacingly, his face a mask of in-
dignation. The woman at his side
beamed at his defense of a cardinal
principle.
One gentleman cruising through the
crowd in his car, a ticket held out the
window in silent, subtle, adver-
tisement, was brutally victimized by a
beery, over-the-hill sprinter who grab-
bed his ticket and dashed off for Yp-
silanti. The injured party immediately
stopped his car and chased off in heroic
pursuit of his goods and his honor. The
crowd sprang to life, appreciative of
the spectacle. In the meantime,
someone was stealing his keys. -
AFTER BUYING a $22 ticket from
one of the youthful dynamos of applied
capitalism, I proceeded into the
stadium, reluctant to leave behind the
stimulating, thrill-a-minute scene at the
gate.
The huge interior of the stadium was
an overwhelming sight to my uninitiated
eyes. Still, somehow I expected it to be
bigger. I sat in an excellent seat (sec-
tion 24, row 72), and stared for several
minutes at the vast panorama before

which inspires sportswriters to employ
a more elevated form of cliched drivel.
The running backs ran well, the
receivers received competently, the free
safety was superbly free-safe. The
team was awesome, playing with a
prowess which, until recently, they
had only displayed in Al Ackerman's
most fevered dreams.
Everyone was happy, with- the
possible exception of the Michigan
State fans. The male cheerleaders
amused us with their gymnastic buf-
foonery, the female cheerleaders tit-
tilated us with their wholesome Middle
American burlesque. "These must be
the good times to which my high school
counselor alluded," I thought.
During halftime, the band played.
AS SOON AS I had time to say, "Gee,
'Roseanna' sure sounds funny being
played by a band that includes twenty
tubas," the teams rushed back onto the
field.
State's trouncing continued. The
crowd, giddy with domination, became
extremely demanding. Having
become tired of mere victory, they now
demanded the total destruction of the
opponent's dignity. And the spirit of
honorable competition was con-
spicuously absent. Each successful
Michigan play was greeted with
strangely lethargic applause, while
each of our mistakes met with disap-
proving mutters and swears. Suc-
cessful plays by State were met with
disgusted silence or muttered calls for
Bo's head.
At one point in the game,

the coach stalked onto the field
threatening to burst a major artery
unless a questionable call was rever-
sed. On being assessed a personal foul,
he abruptly regained his composure. I
assumed that it was part of the show.
As some of the crowd began to leave,
a couple of State fans came over to my
section and stood in front of a group of
our supporters from the suburbs. A
lady in one of those maize-and-blue
tams with the ball on top asked them to
move quite pointedly. Said one to the
lady in the partisan chapeau, "Jesus,
lady, you're so fucking greedy! Haven't
you seen enough all year?" I broke up.
My laughter proved infectious. The
woman relented slightly, realizing that
she was challenging a drunk. Later, he
apologized somewhat, saying, "Lady,
you gotta understand. We come from a,
fucking agricultural college." I erupted
with laughter once again.
THE GAME ENDED. Fearful of
being trampled by the departing hor-
des, I sat around watching the post-
game show. The band played Roseanna
once again. It still sounded funny.
When I finally left the stadium, the
post-game sidewalk sales were in full
swing. One man was selling Go Blue T-
shirts in Hebrew. I just hope he doesn't
learn Swahili. Amid the painter's caps
and posters, one group was marketing
Anthony Carter T-shirts. "A.C. sparks
the offense," they said, or something to
that effect. Commerce can be so ugly.

Daily Photo by JEFF SCHRIER

Ticket scalper: Another capitalistic dynamo

me. It was early in the second quarter,
or second stanza as the more
sophisticated sportswriters oc-
casionally say. The score was 14-0.
The epic intrastate rivalry with
Michigan State was taking on all the
characteristics of a battering. Being

associated with the batterer, however,
the situation was just fine with me. We
scored another touchdown. Everyone
instinctively knew that State was going
to be humiliated to atone for our prior
defeats.
IT WAS A GOOD game, the type

Lawes is a Daily staff writer.

Edited and managed by students at The University of Michigan
420 Maynard St.
Vol. XCIII, No. 33 Ann Arbor, MI 48109
Editorials represent a majority opinion of the Daily's Editorial Board

T

Sinclair

0

GEi[, vVAdE INFmLB
G SOME PRICES
To -3E QOA(
PhwN !

N U~LC$KE,1
IVFIN SEEM
yEN UEPOYNCH EKCK OES A LONG

Like father, like son

S CENE: A Manhattan unemploy-
ment line.
Cast: A rugged construction worker
and a clean-cut young man.
Worker: Excuse me, aren't you
Ronald Reagan, Jr?
Reagan: Yes. Do you mind keeping
it down, please? And no cuts.
Worker: Geez, I'm impressed, You
don't often get to see celebrities down
here. But what's the president's son
doing collecting unemployment?
Reagan: I was laid off by the Joffrey
Ballet. It's not easy being in the arts
these days. We get next to nothing in
federal support. And people just don't
liave the time or money to spend on en-
tertainment these days.
: Worker: Yeah, for sure. Last time
the and the wife went out, Rangers
tickets cost forty bucks apiece. Hey,
% hy doesn't your dad help you out?
: Reagan: He offered to, but I'd rather
Ile independent. He was really bum-
iied at first. He figured with unem-
ployment at 10.1 percent, he'd have to
have at least ten kids for one of them to
be out of work.
I'm kind of the black sheep of the
family anyway. Maureen ran for of-
fice, Patty's in "CHiPS." Dad wants
me to get a good, sensible job, too. The
idea of his son running around in a
tutu, he always says, weighs on his
mind more than the Soviet pipeline.
Worker: It must be really weird, for
you, hanging out down here.

Reagan: I've learned a lot. I didn't
know there were so many people
unemployed. Most of my father's
friends are doing relatively well, even
in these hard times. But people here
are really suffering. Me and Doria are
going to have to get a smaller flat and
all, but these people are really hard up.
Some of them don't even have enough
to eat.
Worker: Excuse me for butting in,
but isn't your father sort of respon-
sible? Isn't he trying to cut back on
welfare and aid and stuff? Isn't he part
of the reason we're both here?
Reagan: Well, I don't know. He
inherited this whole problem ...
Worker: . . . just like you're doing
now.
Reagan: Wait a minute. We've got to
get this country back on its feet. If we
don't make people like my dad's frien-
ds well off, nothing will ever trickle
down to people like you. And me, of
course.
Worker: Great. Good answer,
twinkle-toes. Nice to know you're con-
cerned. With advice like that, maybe
you could get a job as Secretary of
Labor. You already know the boss.
Reagan: I'm sorry. I don't believe in
nepotism. Or in accepting jobs from
your relatives.
Worker: By the way, your logic is
just about as good as your dad's.
Reagan: Thanks. Thank you very
much.

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LETTERS TO THE DAILY:
Taking the 'killer' out of killer satellites

To the Daily:
Just like in every other
"political" issue which is based
on science and technology, a wise-
person cannot take sides without
first becoming well-informed.
I agree with Barry Witt's ar-
ticle (Daily, Oct. 7) that it is un-
fortunate that the student body is
currently apathetic regarding
military research on campus.

As a space enthusiast,
however, I wish to criticize the
automatic categorization of
"killer" satellites with weapons
designed to harm humans, such
as Stealth bombers and Phoenix
missiles. If the "killer" satellites
to which he refers are the same
"killer" satellites which I have
frequently read about, they are
not "killers" of people.

How not tofundPIRGIM

If the article is referring to
satellite weaponry capable of and
intended to reach the earth's sur-
face or otherwise directly harm
people, then I agree with that
categorization. But I do not
believe that "killer" satellites in
this context refers to such
weapons.
Rather, I have heard the term
used to refer to satellites which
are being designed only to.;"kill"
other satellites, usually by laser
or electronic interference.
These satellites ought to be
developed as rapidly as possible,
if only for their application in
destroying nuclear ICBMs, as
they near the apogee of flight.
Wise men know this kind of
satellite could destroy the value to
all countries of producing and
maintaining long-range nuclear
weaponry-something I think
we'd all like to see happen.
Further, it is a fact that the
Soviet Union already has the

capability to destroy at will any
of our crucial and life-saving
communications satellites, while
we have no such capacity. This
space weapons gap is probably
the only real weapons gap that
does exist today, Reagan aside.
To any movement which is
oriented or based upon scientific
or technological issues, the sup-
port of those best factually in-
formed about the issues is crucial
to success.
If the objective of the on-
campus military research critics
is to end research aimed at har-
ming people, they have my full
support.
But until they achieve a higher
precision with their terminology
and categorization, they might
just alienate the most pertinent
support they can obtain: that of
the scientists and technicians
directly involved.
-Terry Paul Calhoun
October 10

To the Daily:
I am saddened, but not sur-
prised, by PIRGIM's move to in-
stitute a refusable/refundable
collection system. Apparently,
PIRGIM has decided that its
righteousness merits its ex-
ploitation of students.
The refusable/refundable
collection system is unfair for
several reasons, none of which I
feel are trivial.
The refusable/refundable

collection system to raise money
for the Republican Party.
If the University plans to con-
tinue active support of PIRGIM
through CRISP, then it is only
fair that it support other campus
activities with equal vigor.
Organizations such as the Young
Republicans, the Spartacus
Youth League, and the Socialist
Workers' Party all support social
change through political action,
as does PIRGIM.
At nnptime n~ PTRflTMT ixr

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