This is Howard Cosell welcoming you to this dark, lilliputian living room on a glorious Sunday evening in October. Tonight we bring you a heavyweight bout of epic magnitude between defending champion Left Foot and the challenger, a pair of steel-toed work boots. These pugilists have chiseled their bodies to Atlas-like proportions and honed their skills in the sweet science to the ne plus ultra of fustigation.
The cat has meowed signaling the opening of round 1. The boots, a revelation of quotidian practicality in brown suede, are lying on the floor in a heap. Here comes Left Foot walking down the hall, bare foot, flaunting his confidence like a preening peacock. He walks by and nimbly avoids his opponent to the chagrin of all footwear everywhere watching tonight’s broadcast. Round 1 goes to Left Foot.
There’s the cat’s meow for Round 2. The boots have been moved to a spot in front of the TV and here comes Left Foot to change the channel. These are the moments that crystallize in my mind why we as a global society are drawn to this barbaric yet contemplative sport. Left Foot is stepping into the viper’s pit and the boots are prepared to strike with eloquent ferocity. Oh my! Left Foot steps on the boots! He’s wobbling, but now has regained his balance. He’s picking up the boots and throwing them across the room!
What a turn of events. As Robert Burns wrote so profoundly “the best laid plans of mice and men oft go astray”. Round 2 has gone to Left Foot and the gallant pair of boots has retreated in abject humiliation.
The cat has meowed for Round 3. The boots are lying next to the couch in a blind spot where the light doesn’t reach. This is an all-in gambit from this valiant competitor. Left Foot is in the dining room. And here he comes! He’s stepping into the living room and he doesn’t see the boots. Left Foot has slammed hard into the steel toe of the boots and is hurt. Down goes Left Foot! Down goes Left Foot! The champion is down on the living room floor writhing in agony. What a stratagem by the boots to just lie there like a coiled cobra and wait for Left Foot to trip over them. The referee has stopped the fight! Its over! The champ is still down. We have a new world champion! All hail the steel-toed work boots!
Join us next week when we bring you another Sunday night fight, Right Knee vs. Coffee Table.