BOB HOPE used to be my favorite comedian, and Joe Bellino used to be my favorite football player. I'm serious. So Sunday I should have been thrilled to be within 40 yards of both. Wrong.

It all started on Tremont Street by the Common. I remembered that warm fall day 17 months ago when we had all come to heckle George Wallace, Fond memories. Today, the crowd was strongly in support of the proceedings, and people applauded with cuthusiasm as the Boston police, flag-wavers from Dedham, bands, and Young Americans for Freedom strutted up Tremont toward Government Center.

It was the long-awaited "Wake Up, America Day," and the people were discovering how easy it was to wake up, especially on a sunny, 75-degree day. It was a great day for a parade. 150,000 persons, by estimate of Boston Police, were passing up the Bruins' game to watch. At least half of them, however, were kids grooving to clowns and drums.

THE meat of the parade was, of course, the many patriotic groups with signs and flags. "Victory in Vietnam," one proclaimed. A woman sported a placard reading, "America We Love You."

The intent of this parade and rally was officially "to protest the use of violence." The organizers, who had their headquarters in Dedham, wanted to think of it as an activity which would appeal to people of varied political views. After all, even liberals oppose violence. They succeeded in attracting some sort of variety-from the Polish Freedom Fighter to as far left as Jim Nance. Nance was disrespectful enough to say that he did not feel we should have gotten into Vietnam in the first place. He felt, though, that since ?? were there now, there was no turning back.

For an hour, the parade oozed by until a trailing car with a loudspeaker advised the faithful to gather at City Hall for a rally featuring Bob Hope. Parades were one thing, and speeches quite another, especially from the point of view of five-year-olds, so the mob of 150,000 watered down to an audience of 20,000 or so at City Hall.

But these 20,000 meant business. Good Protestant-ethic phrase there. One of the "Wake Up" leaders at the microphone addressed us. "Will the crowd please move to my right," he requested. I shuddered at the thought.

Hope came on right away, and the fans went wild. He has come to represent everything that's perfect about America, the ideal citizen. Yes, Vietnam has been good to Bob. The first order of business was the presentation of a Paul Revere Bowl or something to Bob for being a great patriot. He got more of these before he left, and similar awards were given away more or less as party favors to those on the podium.

Bob launched into some jokes. "He's a scream!" a woman behind me squealed. The rest of the crowd seemed to agree and its conditioned laugh erupted at appropriate intervals. "But I want to tell you..." Hope said every time after they laughed, and I remembered the good old days of five hours a night in front of the set.

But he had a lot of serious things to say, and they were even better received than his humor. Hope mentioned the manner in which opinion was creeping from the newspaper columns to the front page. "A lot of our people are disillusioned because of this," he asserted. "But I was delighted to read the other day that Nixon was bringing another 150,000 troops home, because it does prove that we're winning!" The magic word- "winning" -and applause cut him off. But he was ready for it.

Hope knew they wanted more, and he gave it. "Ladies and gentlemen, I've been there six times, and I want to tell you that we are winning!" More, Bob. "It may be costing lives, but we're saving Southeast Asia. We're not at war; we're helping a country and the world."

Bob left, and so did a number of people. I was able to move a lot closer to the podium and to the more cloquent patriots there. Bob was clearly the hero, though. Part of the rest of the program was, in effect, a eulogy to Bob Hope, America's truest citizen. Every speaker bestowed upon certain figures the label "Great American," and no one forgot to include Bob on his list.

GENERAL Bruce E. Clark, the next speaker and the head of Freedom's Foundation of Valley Forge, did not try to amuse us. "I'm proud to have been a soldier for 43 years." Clark said. He brought a special gift: greetings from General Abrams, who is working "18-20 hours a day."

Clark pleaded for a halt to dissent that might impede our effort in Vietnam. "We shouldn't present General Abrams with problems here; he's got enough there." Clark suggested that everyone write Abrams a note that night to tell him that we were behind him. "He deserves all the help we can give him, and he doesn't deserve proclamations from the State of Massachusetts stating that Massachusetts boys won't fight!!" They went crazy when he said that. It took backbone to say it, and the people appreciated backbone.

But even as the General was seeking our help, a youth was causing trouble in the crowd. The kid was standing there with a raised fist. Heads turned, even though there was no noise. "I wish someone would kick him in the shins." a woman near me said to her friend. There were even signs claiming that napalm was violence, etc.

Jim Nance was the athlete speaker instead of Bellino, who was cited, however, for fine leadership in this crusade. First, Jim clarified his political leanings. "I am not anti-left. I am not pro-right." People were talking in low voices, worried. "I am strongly pro-American!" And that made up for it. Heavy applause. More inspiring words. Flex.

By this time, there were other divisive elements in the crowd. A guy about 20 feet to my left shouted periodically to speakers in an attempt to interject logic. He was standing next to a 25-year-old guy with a butch hair cut and a dark suit. This guy was trying to persuade the shouter of something, but every time the crowd applauded, he stopped talking and started pushing his YAF-ish sign up and down as quickly as he could with a look of rapt concentration on his fact.

And every time the younger fellow yelled a word, the cops standing in front of me turned their heads in unison toward him. It was great. All these cops shifting to the left as if in formation. Five-second surveillance, then heads straight ahead. "Look at that hair. Wouldn't knew he's a boy 'cept for that deep voice."

Al Capp was the next star. He was another to make allusions to the riot in Harvard Square, an event they really beat into the ground Sunday. "I live in Cambridge, a stone's throw from Harvard Square." The crowd got it. Suddenly he became solemn. "Over there flag-waving is a dirty word, but I would rather see our flag waved than burned!" That statement would have had the highest reading of the day if they'd had one of those applause meters like the ones they used to use on "Queen For A Day." Really an incredible response, and everyone waved his little flag at the same time.

The silent majority was alive and well in Government Center. Those in the crowd were getting immeasurable satisfaction from hearing the noise they could generate together, from seeing a large group like this all honoring America. "College radicals aren't the only ones who can get people out for rallies," one man assured me. "Most of us don't have the time to demonstrate all the time, but today, for example, a lot of us could get out, and I think it's pretty impressive," he added. "But the news tonight will probably show ten seconds of it and say we only got 5000 people to show."

I DIDN'T KNOW whether to be amused or depressed. I tend now to look at the whole thing as a big joke because I find it more enjoyable, and because I hate to contemplate sad realities. So I go to Tremont Street and then to Government Center to yuk it up for three solid hours, but I can't help thinking meanwhile that no matter how hard I laugh, these people are determining our pollicies around the world. They're putting the punch in Nixon's words. They're the reason Nixon can watch a football game and ignore 250,000 demonstrators who have come miles to walk by his house and yell at him. So I should not laugh.

And for every person in Government Center Sunday, how many more like him were sitting at home or somewhere else? More than I would have guessed. Who will change their minds? Who's going to convince them that it wouldn't be so bad to admit defeat? Who's going to convince them that Communism isn't the work of the Devil?

But then another veteran got up to the microphone, and I was laughing again. This man wanted to speak to us about those NLF flag-wavers in this country. "These people would be happier in other countries." The crowd agreed vehemently. "Some say that 'Love it or leave it' is reactionary. I see nothing wrong with it." Someone pumped a "Love It or Leave It" sign up and down for all he was worth.

A boy scout came by and presented me with a leaflet all about the clenched fist- "The Communist Salute." It was covered with pictures of Lee Harvey Oswald, Communist workers, Jesie Jackson, Fred Evans, etc., all with one thing in common: in the pictures they are raising clenched fists. The argument goes that they are all, therefore. Communists, therefore, evil: Q.E.D. There's a picture of a Panther demonstration in Oakland. Part of the caption reads: "Mao Tse Tung's 'Red Guard Manual' protrudes from girl's pocket."

ANOTHER speaker was a student from YAF. He emphasized that there were students in the crowd. "Just look around you." People looked. He had some warnings about what might be happening to those of us in college, and said that parents ought to visit and check up on what kind of education their children were getting.

Then an appeal to the younger persons there. "Get a college education. Don't get a college indoctrination by being brow-beaten by professors." I was unashamedly nauseated by that statement. Maybe when older people said similar things earlier I had listened with a detached understanding.But when I heard this kid spewing forth with advice, I was disgusted. I looked around for the guy selling 25c popsicles to get my mind off it, but I didn't see him right away, so I gave up the search.

The rally was about over. A few more special people got up to give their blessings to the movement and to give and/or receive patriot awards.

"We've done it the American way today," we were told. That was nice to know.

It was petering out towards a climax. The climax came when the man at the microphone asked us to join in the singing of "God Bless America." It was lousy not singing. I didn't hold back because of my crummy voice: I liked the song enough to compensate for vocal deficiencies. But I could not join these people in the spirit in which they sang. It would have been two different songs at once. I just looked around. I looked particularly at eyes. Old men's eyes, working men's eyes, occasional children's eyes.

Riding home in the subway, I thought about Bob Hope. I wondered if 20 years from now I'd be standing out there laughing at his jokes the same old way I used to.