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Perched over Salida, right behind where the railroad
depot used to stand, is a hill sporting an S
and
topped by a gazebo. Both were white until the Monday
morning after the Cleveland game. The S
and the
gazebo glowed with a fresh coat of orange paint.
Even if I wanted to think about something besides the
Broncos going to Super Bowl XXI, I couldn't. Most TV
announcers are trying out for head cheerleader, the radio
waves vibrate with little but Bronco chatter, and the only
angle the newspapers have missed is just how Rich Karlis
trims his toenails in preparation for the Big One. Should I
step outside to escape, there's that big orange S
looming over my front yard.
And if I were of a mind to complain that this might be
overkill, there is the instructive example of the man who
attempted to start the Broncos Non-Fan Club
earlier
this week. In one afternoon, he got more threatening
telephone calls than I get in a month.
So, even though I haven't watched a football game since 1983, when I happened to be over at a neighbor's house one Sunday afternoon -- one excuse for seeing friends, guzzling beer and chomping nachos is about as good as any other -- I'm not going to let anyone challenge my patriotism.
I still love Orange soda, just as I did when I was a kid, and my ancestors wore Orange on St. Patrick's Day.
I work every day in front of a computer with an Orange screen. When I bought it last summer, I specified Orange, not because I heard it was easier on my eyes, but because I'm such a Bronco fan.
My battered 1967 Chevy pickup is a bright and gaudy Orange. Recently I've taken to telling people that it has a custom paint job, rather than the truth -- its first owner was the Routt County Road Department.
Besides that, I really am rooting for the Broncos, on account of a discovery I made years ago, not long after Martha and I bought the weekly newspaper in Kremmling. When I was a hired editor, it wasn't my job to worry about whether there were any ads in the paper. When I owned the damn thing, I started caring a lot about whether it had ads.
Perhaps in cities, one sells advertising by explaining market penetration and milline rates. In small towns, you sell ads by being a good old boy. On Mondays, the day I made my ad calls, the only topic the good old boys wanted to discuss was the Bronco game the day before, which I knew nothing about.
My livelihood depended on being able to talk football. But I could think of about 2,000 things I'd rather do on a Sunday afternoon than sit in front of a television set. So I used a technique I learned in college when there was a test on something I hadn't read -- I cribbed it.
I'd watch the late news Sunday night for the game highlights, and before setting out on Monday, I closely read the sports pages of the morning daily. Thus prepared, I'd make my rounds, full of wisdom:
Otis Armstrong sure kicked loose in the third
quarter, didn't he? That 78-yard broken-field run was
amazing.
Oh, I don't know. I think Ralston's doing a fair job,
considering.
That was great, the way Alzado recovered that fumble
after the ball had been through more hands than a Naples
whore.
My ad revenues climbed. After a few weeks, my records happened to be lying on my roll-top desk next to an opened newspaper with the Broncos' record. I made a serendipitous discovery.
On a Monday after a Bronco victory, I sold more advertising than after a Bronco loss. An account that usually took a quarter-page would buy half a page, that sort of thing. Further, the merchants were in a better mood after a victory, more tolerant of whatever editorial vitriol I had published the week before. And it wasn't just the merchants. A Denver win put everybody in a kinder disposition, even the sometimes surly politicians at the courthouse.
A Super Bowl victory might extend such benevolent feelings for months. The Eastern Slope and the Western Slope would reach sensible agreements. Denver and the suburbs would quit fighting. The governor and the legislator would work together. Peace and prosperity will arrive.
Perhaps one football game can't do all that. But it's worth a try, so I'll be pulling for the Broncos Sunday. I might even watch the game.
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