Football in Close Quarters

I have never seen or covered log-rolling, cricket or curling. None of them are on my “must do” list.

I had also gone a lifetime without seeing or covering an arena football game, partially because this game is so new it barely spans a kindergartner’s lifetime.

That deprivation came to an end Thursday night.

The Arizona Rattlers and Cincinnati Rockers rattled and rocked the Sports Arena rafters, almost literally, with football in a phone booth. That Cincy won, 55-31, is all you really need (or want) to know about the game itself.

I was not the only one in the place who had never seen an arena game.

It was a new experience for Danny White, too.

The difference, of course, is that Danny White, the former Dallas quarterback, is coach of the Rattlers. Only in arena football could you get a coach coaching the first game he sees.

“I’ve seen a lot on tape,” he laughed, “but I’ve never been to one.”

I’m writing this from midfield.

The 25-yard-line.

Put San Diego State and Brigham Young into arena football, and the final score would be 152-152. Any place outside the locker room is in scoring position. Don Coryell would love it.

You could play the game in your living room, but you’d better hide the lamps and fine china. These guys do hit people, each other, and things, like the padded wall along the sidelines. it’s so close and intimate, it almost feels like it is in a living room.

Except for those huge nets behind the end zones. Any ball bouncing off the screens is in play. Not even Billy Joe Tolliver could overthrow a receiver in arena football.

Naturally, many of the rules are different.

Penalties are three and eight yards rather than five and 15.

There are eight players on a team and most play both offense and defense. Six of the eight are eligible to receive passes, excluding only the center and one of the two guards. The quarterback could throw himself a pass off the netting. One of the two guards is the tight end, identifying himself by politely raising his hand as he breaks the huddle.

Neither offensive tackles nor punters exist in arena football. Punting, in fact, is illegal. Verboten.

The kicker is, in fact, the punter. On fourth down--yes, there are four downs to advance 10 yards--the kicker trots out and attempts a field goal . . . even if the line of scrimmage is his own five-yard-line.

One particularly nice difference is that the game is played with a running clock, which seems to stop only after extra point tries. It doesn’t stop after the touchdowns, only after the extra points. I didn’t notice television timeouts, but then I didn’t notice cameras.

There are also rules about which linebacker can blitz and which one can’t and where the split end must line up and what the defense can do in relation to where the running back is lined up and how defensive lineman must position themselves if the moon is full.

Danny White went through a lengthy recitation of rules and quirks and then smiled.

“Other than that,” he said, “it’s football.”

In moving forward, arena football also moved back. It awards two points for a drop kick after a touchdown and four points for a drop-kick field goal. I didn’t see anyone try it, though there were plenty of dropped passes. No points were awarded for dropped passes.

As might be expected, plenty of points are scored on this 50-yard field. The scoreboard operator probably thought he had stumbled onto a basketball game. If you went out to get a hot dog and missed a touchdown, you didn’t have to fret because another one would be along in a minute.

Cincinnati took the opening kickoff--all kickoffs are from the goal line--and a relatively modest return moved the ball to midfield. It took one play to get to the Arizona 8 and scored two plays later on a pass from Art Schlichter, yes, the Art Schlichter, to Todd Smith. Less than two minutes had elapsed. I didn’t get the exact time because the clock kept going.

Arizona ended up with a fourth down at its 18 on its first possession, but Luis Zendejas missed a 32-yard field goal. Those numbers and lengths are right. Honest.

On a touchback, the offensive team takes over at its own five-yard line. That was fine with Schlichter, who promptly threw a 45-yard touchdown pass to Smith again. A couple of more minutes had passed.

By halftime, Cincinnati had a 35-31 lead. The guy running the scoreboard had to be an accountant with the fingers of Ray Charles. It looked like the final score would resemble Ross Perot’s bank statement.

Other than the fact that it wasn’t real football or really football, it looked like it could be. They had all the equipment. It just didn’t look right all scrunched up like that. I just couldn’t relate to defensive backs knocking wide receivers into the boards, like hockey thugs, kick returners fielding balls out of a net, like outfielders, and quarterbacks throwing length of the field passes, like supermen.

Maybe I will take in a cricket match one of these days.

Danny White will probably be coaching that next.