"American Football is not only the most extraordinary sport I know, it is a piece of Americana as American as the Empire State Building or a cowboy film and provides a wealthy source for the student of folklore." These words, spoken once by the well-known English author, Graham Greene, are a striking comment on this peoples' "Sport" of the U.S.A.

Every college possessing any self-respect possesses a football team and the stars of each team are highly paid. The American universities profit through this practice alone fifty million dollars in one transitory season. These modern gladiators receive on the basis of their brutal loutish swindling, a scholarship plus a bonus which averages fifty dollars for each game. Indeed, on close examination, no other type of player may be seen on the thousands of professional teams participating in this wild, catch-as-catch-can style of game.

There are, in fact, no Amateur Football Teams, apart from those of boisterous schoolboys. Of the "Footballer", humorist Al Capp says "The head of the football player is only half as great as that of the average man, but this size is quite large enough, for it's all the young man needs to carry a crew cut and helmet."

Athletic fair play cannot be attributed to this game. All is permitted, and the most brutal "footballer" is considered the most courageous sportsman. The supreme slogan of football is "Brawn over Brain". American generals such as "Pestgeneral Ridgway" and "Korea Interventionist Van Fleet" treasure the "footballer" as the best, most ruthless and compliant soldier. The question never arises for these men as to the tendency or purpose of an order. Its cold-blooded quality alone suffices for them to accomplish what ever is wanted.

American football has about as much likeness to European Football as does rowing to sailing. In action, it is played hardly at all with the feet, at best used in order to trip the opponent, or kick him in the shins.

Grim sat the Red Socks in their dressing room. Coach Coldstone paced up and down. His voice threatened them. "Okay boys, the day has come. We must rip the Giants to pieces! These New York Salon Lions think they will crush us. But I know you boys otherwise. Think also upon Jimmy Rubber with his bruised ribs, and SLUG that Pat O'Neil in the jaw and on his nose. Before all else, however, remember Gormee, whom you left out on the playing field with a broken neck."

The door of the dressing room crashed open, and the Red Socks, wearing ferocious expressions, entered the arena to the crowd's applause.

Glowering Colossi

Dazzling white lines shining at five-yard intervals ran across the field. The linesmen and umpires with their striped shirts stood on the margin of the playing field. Another roar of jubilation broke out as the Giants appeared. In only a few seconds, the hour-long battle would start. Four 15-minute periods of desperate struggle lay immediately before the men.

The game started: two rows of massive, helmeted figures squatted opposite each other. Each colossus, his chin pressed against a leather strap, glowered across at the expression of his opponent's wire-protected face. Positioned in this manner, the seven men of each line almost crashed together with their helmets. Calmly the four backs crouched behind them--the three running backs and the Signal Caller (Playmaker).

The whistle sounded; with a wild roar, both teams crashed together. Immediately handing off the egg-shaped ball, the Red Socks' Pat Brown had rammed his head into the wall of humans before him, to make room for his ball carrier. An enraged mass of humanity lay bellowing and screaming on the ground. Tom Bell ran with the ball towards an outside flank but was detected and before he knew what was happening, a Giant hurled him to the ground.

The whistle blew, the referee stepped into action, and with the measuring lines, assessed how far the Red Socks had brought the ball. Four attempts were permitted in which tries they had to carry the ball forward ten yards. If they succeeded in this, they would be allowed four more tries. If, however, they failed, the ball would go over to the enemy team, which could then try its luck.

Both teams set themselves up again. The whistle--Pat Brown again handed the ball to a back, and was ramming his head and shoulders against the human wall, tearing at it with his hands, that he might run through the line; but he was struck a blow on the shins which made him roar out. Pat stumbled, fell, and before he could recover and rise, a Giant jumped with both feet on his chest.

Again the whistle blew. Tom Bell was on the sideline where he had managed to carry the ball. The mob of men disentangled itself, but one remained down--Pat Brown. The umpire cleared the field at this point. Coach Harry Coldstone came out running. Two medical corps people worked over Pat--chest crushed! When Pat had been removed from the playing field, a substitute came into his place. Unlimited substitution is permitted. The chief point is that eleven players must be standing on the field. But one of the Giants limped off the playing field, another wiped blood from his nose, and in the background stood a back, who, astounded, held two dusty teeth in his hand.

A Great Leap