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Grey
Old Lady Rugby
by
John Flowers
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My favorite full-contact sport is reading The New York Times on the subway during rush hour. It's a man's sport: no pads, no refs, and with so many bodies in such a tight space it's like a steel cage match for playing solitaire. Never heard of it, you say? Well, I'm not surprised. Even in New York City, the sport is little known. People seem too busy or too tired, one, that early in the morning to notice much of anything -- add to that the fact that Apple has un-invented reading for a generation, and its niche status is more than understandable. It's a shame, too, because the game is awfully easy to learn. Each match follows the same script (and for simplicity's sake, we'll leave out for discussion that brick of a Sunday Times). True, each also has its peculiarities to give it spice -- like when someone breaks The Code and starts a conversation -- but the plot's the same: * First, remember that this is early morning rush hour. And as such, you need to push your way onto the train and gently nudge aside any of that esprit de corps that might be left over from 9/11. * Next, try to find some spot, some corner of the train, into which you can just wedge yourself so to keep your hands free and balance steady. Barring that, grab a handrail or the side of a door -- anything, really, without a visa and too scared to call the cops -- and hold on. * Before the train lurches forward, be sure to retrieve section A. Then, with it in hand and B through D under arm, allow yourself a 30- to 45-second window of calm before stumbling onto the phrase "continued on page C4". * Guilty party has two choices here: He can patiently wait for the train to stop before he releases the rail and shuffles through his papers, or, like the pros do it, he can spy for the least intimidating person near him and aim his body that way. * Either way, you leaf through your bundles to find section C and flip it open to "… C8, was it?" * We're not quite in cursing territory yet, so normally you just sigh at this point. * Then, with your arm still locked tight to the rail, go back to section A in order to locate which page in section C contained the rest of the story you now can't quite remember (something about the Federal Reserve or its chairman, perhaps -- you definitely remember seeing the word "rates" a lot). * With your mission accomplished, head back to section C (page 4) and notice that there are, in fact, two jumps from section A: both about the chairman; both about a speech he made yesterday -- "and there's that word again, 'rates'." * As exasperation sets in, your quick 'n' speedy side may argue that, "Well, it's basically the same story, right?" * But your OCD side, always the better debater, is quick to retort that "This isn't a Mr. Potato Head." And so since continuity of thought is that important to you, it's back to square one. * Now is the time for cursing. However, do so quietly, under your breath, so that any school children present might watch and learn a thing or two about etiquette. * Next, you're going to want to retrieve section A and retrace your steps to determine which jump on C4 is the lead jump and which is that of the analysis. * Quite often you will spy one of the two stories jumping in mid quote, with some economist badgering on about how something, something, something "the market is looking for the Fed to lower the key interest --" * Success! You just need to find the jump that does or does not begin in mid-quotation. * By now you will have reached your stop. Should you require a second, or even a third train to work, then repeat the above steps. And, in fact, continue doing so until you arrive at work -- or realize, one, that spending a dollar twenty five to read half an article about bad bets people make on the markets seems awfully ironic right about now. On a last and final note, some people may throw their hands in the air (not literally, of course) and choose the tabloid simplicity of a Daily News or New York Post. And while, true, their book-binding approach to newspaper production gives the driver a more manageable turn radius, a Cadillac is still a Cadillac. Which is to say that, yes, it's a status symbol; and, yes, production peaked sometime in the early '70s; and, yes, the people getting the free ride in the back of the main section do more griping than actual navigating; but damn it, it's still the best we've got.
John Flowers is a lesser known John Flowers
of New York, not to be confused with Brooklyn jazz musician John
Flowers, nor former New York Jets and Giants running back Little John
Flowers. John Flowers (III) currently is a writer living in New York.
but then again who isn't nowadays? His joke studio may be found at:
http://hotjohnny.blogspot.com |