The Show That Never Ends

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The Show That Never Ends

Updated 01/21/02

Year Two of the Davey Does Miami era is in the books and it ended on a typically sour note. If any general message maybe gleaned from the 2002 NFL season it is just this: "Almost is not good enough." Past performances did not save Dennis Green, it finished Tony at Tampa and it got Marty Shot in Snyderville. Not all endings are unhappy.

When your team posts an 11-5 record and makes the playoffs, conventional wisdom suggests that you had a good year. However, when your team hosts a playoff game and the fans decline to come but at gunpoint, the message is anything but reassuring. Did they know what was coming? Another zero-touchdown performance by the Vanishing Dolphins only serves as punctuation at the end of the black-out sentence. The ice in Miami is beginning to thin.

Dear me, what to do, what to do?

If your weekly game show is losing viewers you know you have to act fast. Once gone, customers are twice as hard to lure back. The obvious solution: Celebrity Football. Another Three Rings Circus comes to Miami. If the standard crop of contestants are just too dull, too ordinary, then you go out and round up the cast of some long-dead TV show - scour the soup kitchens - raid the re-habs - find the Brady Bunch, locate the Fonz... Let's see how the Waltons look in pads. If it works for Regis, it might work for Dave.

You can't draw a crowd with crayons and "effective" is not a word that gets any play in Madison Avenue copy. Time for Miami to de-Jay their persona - dump Dr. Dull and put a big name up on that marquee out front where the ghosted image of the letters spelling "Dan Marino" are still discernible in the sun-bleached facade. After all, you can't expect a guy with boat-cleat ears, some nobody from the Ivy League, to fill the Sunday seats of an NFL stadium. Ridiculous. Absurd.

In this situation, a shameless promoter of low repute might be expected to pull a big stunt or engage in some sleazy exploitation. Don King would convince Alzheimer-Ali to go twelve rounds with George "Burger-boy" Foreman. How about a simple, naked pipe-fight on ice between Nancy Kerrigan and Tonya Harding? Bill and Hillary Clinton on the next installment of Temptation Island?

Bingo.

The Dazzling Brilliance of the Fiedler Brothers, Burn 'em & Gailey has failed. Time to hire Baffle M. Wit-Bulls*** and disinter the bones of some aging, punch-drunk has-been quarterback. This advice from the guy who was dead certain that Rick Mirer was The Answer in Chicago. Un-Bearable. Cue up the calliope.

Welcome back my friends

To the show that never ends,

We're so glad you could attend,

Come inside, come inside!


	Moved \| back ___________________________________________________________________ The Show That Never Ends Updated 01/21/02 Year Two of the Davey Does Miami era is in the books and it ended on a typically sour note. If any general message maybe gleaned from the 2002 NFL season it is just this: "Almost is not good enough." Past performances did not save Dennis Green, it finished Tony at Tampa and it got Marty Shot in Snyderville. Not all endings are unhappy. When your team posts an 11-5 record and makes the playoffs, conventional wisdom suggests that you had a good year. However, when your team hosts a playoff game and the fans decline to come but at gunpoint, the message is anything but reassuring. Did they know what was coming? Another zero-touchdown performance by the Vanishing Dolphins only serves as punctuation at the end of the black-out sentence. The ice in Miami is beginning to thin. Dear me, what to do, what to do? If your weekly game show is losing viewers you know you have to act fast. Once gone, customers are twice as hard to lure back. The obvious solution: Celebrity Football. Another Three Rings Circus comes to Miami. If the standard crop of contestants are just too dull, too ordinary, then you go out and round up the cast of some long-dead TV show - scour the soup kitchens - raid the re-habs - find the Brady Bunch, locate the Fonz... Let's see how the Waltons look in pads. If it works for Regis, it might work for Dave. You can't draw a crowd with crayons and "effective" is not a word that gets any play in Madison Avenue copy. Time for Miami to de-Jay their persona - dump Dr. Dull and put a big name up on that marquee out front where the ghosted image of the letters spelling "Dan Marino" are still discernible in the sun-bleached facade. After all, you can't expect a guy with boat-cleat ears, some nobody from the Ivy League, to fill the Sunday seats of an NFL stadium. Ridiculous. Absurd. In this situation, a shameless promoter of low repute might be expected to pull a big stunt or engage in some sleazy exploitation. Don King would convince Alzheimer-Ali to go twelve rounds with George "Burger-boy" Foreman. How about a simple, naked pipe-fight on ice between Nancy Kerrigan and Tonya Harding? Bill and Hillary Clinton on the next installment of Temptation Island? Bingo. The Dazzling Brilliance of the Fiedler Brothers, Burn 'em & Gailey has failed. Time to hire Baffle M. Wit-Bulls* and disinter the bones of some aging, punch-drunk has-been quarterback. This advice from the guy who was dead certain that Rick Mirer was The Answer in Chicago. Un-Bearable. Cue up the calliope. Welcome back my friends To the show that never ends, We're so glad you could attend, Come inside, come inside!** Ü