Truly a gentleman's sport

What with the knicker-knocking and ballyhoo that surrounds the modern sportsman, we are ever grateful to the pompous vigilance and stuff-shirted whistle-blowing of those of us who remember how sports used to be. Surely as time marches on, something of honor and manhood have been lost from sports today (fie and a pox on thee, Title-IX, you dastard!). Don't we remember the good old days of sporting events? When sports were simply a gentleman's game (and by "gentleman" I mean fitting the criteria of being 1) a man, 2) a wealthy man, and 3) being a wealthy man of the correct skin pigmentation before being allowed to play)?

Well buck up, good fellows all! Wax those mustachios, fasten your sock garters, strap on those leather helmets and reaccustom your hounds to the smell of fox, for lo and behold, the good old age of sport is returning!

And to what do we owe this revival? To naught but a letter from one Bryan Haslen to the student body of BYU.

To be fair (which I try to do when I can't stamp down my conscience), it's possible that this letter was written simply to stir up controversy and such. But with my extensive experience, and knowing BYU students' capacity for self-righteousness, there is a great chance that it's as real as they come. And in any case, does that mean we can't make fun of it? Would you still be reading if there was a chance that the answer was no?

(Note: to enhance the proper tone of the letter, read it to yourself in a thick, stuffy English accent. Or have your butler do it).

"To the Editor,

"A few more reminders for those students who have forgotten how football stadiums work (my understanding: people come in, cheer have a good time. Evidently it's more complicated than that):

"1) Littering is a disgusting habit and football should be no exception (an exception to disgusting habits?). As all good college football fans, let us leave the stadium cleaner than we found it. (Because, like the wilderness, if we don't keep our footballs clean, someday they'll be gone forever. Unless of course, I don't know, the paid stadium maintanance staff cleans them. And if that's the case then they'll be just fine)

"2) There is no need to yell. The chances are they can't hear you on the field (current chances: two to one) and you are only bothering the people next to you who have paid good money for their seats. (I think we should instigate both the "golf clap" --applause from the crowd comes only after plays and such-- and also the first-grade "12-inch whisper." After all, we paid good money for these seats. Who are you to sully up my air with your boorish sound waves and so-called "enthusiasm?")

"3) The nudity and paint is really unnecessary (Nudity?! Have you been to a BYU game?). If you were excited about taking a trip to England, would you get on the airplane with an English flag painted on your bare chest? (Wait. . . . um . . . Yes?) Of course not. (Oh. . . . Oh!! Now I see your point. 'Cause college football is like a trans-atlantic flight to England. Therefore, what is not acceptable in one event is not acceptable in the other. I'll be sure to file that away under "Comparisons that Make No Sense Whatsoever")

"4) The wave is a thing of our politically incorrect past (when we discriminantly instigated the 1949 laws that didn't allow waves to vote). Think of all of those who are unable to stand and how it makes them feel when they see the wave (My guess at what they think, "Cool the wave. Oh, look a sea-gull! Oh yeah, football!"). Please be considerate and don't participate in this practice that you know is wrong.

"5) If we win the conference by beating Utah in our stadium, remember your manners and don't try to get onto the field. ("Or else I shall thrash your wrists with a ruler and soundly box your ears, you ruffians!")

"Bryan Haslam
San Diego, Calif."

So, hearken to me good people all. L et us be inspired by Bryan Haslam. When we pass him, let us not mock his overly starched shirt, his top hat, cane or his solid-gold monocle (would we mock Mr. Peanut?)(Yes, but for other reasons). This is a true-blooded, gentleman, cut from the old cloth (that cloth smelling vaguely of old-man-stink and garlic). Do not sneer at his manners, even if his manners might include sneering at yours. Let us help him shoulder his heavy, heavy load. Because, dash it all gents, a soap-box is a hard load to carry alone.