Column: As L.A. waits to hug it out with NFL, he remembers the Embraceable Ewes

Amid the usual mayhem, a few things to be grateful for lately. McDonald’s is serving all-day breakfast, and Playboy is finally eliminating the rampant nudity I’ve always found so appalling.

Nice to see some of my important crusades come to fruition. I credit social media, which I use to promote positive change. It’s so nuanced yet so intellectually rigorous. One day I will outright own social media, the way Aaron Rodgers owns the NFC North.

Oh, and among the things to be grateful for these days: pro football, which is headed here — and soon. I figure that after the Chargers’ last-second collapse Monday night, San Diego may deliver them here personally, in a big gift-wrapped moving truck.

“Take ‘em, they’re yours,” the card will say. “Good luck with these losers.”

Hold off on the parades, because no one here much cares, what with the NFL fan experience reportedly turning into such a dodgy experience — fights, foul language, and the full range of sputtering murderous behaviors you see on most daytime talk shows.

You would be safer ordering a veggie omelet in a dive bar than attending most NFL games. If the league is really serious about coming, they ought to at least throw in a full militia.

No, L.A. has no great civic thirst for the NFL experience, which almost assures us we’ll get it.

In the meantime, the Embraceable Ewes are definitely back, gathering this week for a reunion in Long Beach. You probably remember them from the late 1970s, the bump-and-grind Rams dance team with a rich history of triggering puberty in half the adolescent population. Among their alums: actress Jenilee Harrison and Prince’s Apollonia (then Patty Kotero).

Honestly, like Playboy centerfolds, pro cheerleaders are probably unnecessary, a gratuitous throwback to a more-repressed time. If you know me at all, you know that I have no room for sentiment (or repression). Nostalgia ain’t what it used to be.

I wasn’t always so enlightened. I won’t apologize for my past appreciation of certain cheer squads, any more than my adult daughters should apologize for their admiration of Tom Brady or Ben Affleck.

Let’s just say I’ve moved on. As should all of us.

Yet, there was a time ...

Remember the Ewes? There were 30 of them, first organized in 1978, an era when everyone had Farrah Fawcett hair — even Vince Ferragamo.

Public relations whiz David Mirisch, now 80, came up with the Embraceable Ewes, organizing tryouts that drew 800 young aspirants. Wilt Chamberlain was a judge (big surprise) as were sportscasters Jim Hill and Stu Nahan. Once they were chosen, Mayor Tom Bradley made a trip out to welcome the squad, then still a rarity in the pro game.

In addition to all the aspiring actresses, there was “Pom Pom Mom,” a lovely though stout dance member with the physical specs of a fullback. The late Phyllis Wanger, 53 at the time, was to cheerleaders what the San Diego Chicken was to swans. But she added a light touch to a dance troupe that, despite four hours of rehearsal a night, never took itself too seriously.

I’m all about light touches lately, in a sports world about to choke on sanctimony and moral outrage. From Tiger Woods to Steve Sarkisian, we place folks under crazy pressure, then scold them — or rejoice — when they fail.

We want sports heroes, we want clergymen. Good luck with that. Meanwhile, ever been on the USC campus before a game? It makes the last days of Caligula look like your kids’ pizza party.

In hindsight, the era of the Embraceable Ewes seems pretty tame. And about as harmful as a sneak peek at Miss July.

For many of the dancers, the $15-per-game jobs were a launch point for careers far more important than sitcoms. Mayra Fornos-Buch, for instance, went on to found her own law firm and do important work on behalf of the disabled, in honor of her late husband.

This Sunday, she’s invited her former teammates to Long Beach for a re-Ewe-ion, with proceeds going to assist individuals with spinal cord injuries.

The event is open to the public, with tickets going for $50 and the memories — as they say — priceless (information: www.ralphsriders.org).

About 50 former Ewes are scheduled to attend, from 2 to 5 p.m. at the Boathouse on the Bay. Dwight Stones will emcee. Former All-Pro Nolan Cromwell and his wife, Mary, a former Ewe, will be there too.

Think of it as a little dance with the past. Or, just maybe, an omen of the crazy things to come.

chris.erskine@latimes.com

Twitter: @erskinetimes