Football Camp Isn’t Attractive

Ah, training camp. The shimmering verdant fields of toil unfold before you, beckoning, conjuring the indelible memories of boyhood, of simpler times, of lazy afternoons devoted to the singular joy of playing a child’s game. One intoxicating whiff of freshly cut grass takes you back, the years melting like strawberry ice cream beneath the cruel, unrelenting sun, before the harsh chirp of a coach’s whistle ushers you back to reality, and you realize that these modern-day gladiators, these sultans of sweat, are on a mission, and for many, the dream of a lifetime will end here, the men of autumn separated from the boys of summer . . .

Oh sorry.

Wrong training camp.

No one genuflects on the first day of NFL camp. No sportswriter sees the need lug out the thesaurus at the sight of the first practice punt, searching for the meaning of it all, or at least the meaning of words like “epiphany” and “sumptuous.”

Football training camp is drudgery, monotony and mind-numbing boredom. Just like baseball training camp. The differences between the two are few and minimal, really--basically:

1. Football teams play four meaningless games during their training period. Baseball teams play 30.

2. Football accepts the fact that training camp is drudgery, monotony and mind-numbing boredom, which is why the league schedules exhibition games in London, Tokyo and Berlin, just to break the tedium. Baseball pretends training camp is benediction at the Vatican, burning incense next to the grill charring hamburger patties behind the left-field fence.

According to my score card, that’s Football 2, Baseball 0.

No one likes football training camp, except the coaches--and not even all of them. Ask John Robinson how he’d rather spend the last two weeks of July. Wine-tasting California Rieslings in the Napa Valley? Or timing Bern Brostek in the 40?

The players hate it because it’s the closest earthly approximation of Hell, and it’s scheduled twice a day.

The fans hate it because they have to pay regular-season prices for tickets to preseason games in which neither team tries to win because both teams are trying to figure out whether to cut or keep that third-string, free-agent blocking back.

The writers hate it because it’s six weeks of watching for ankle sprains, trumping up stories about obscure rookie tackles with no chance at all of making it to September and, worst of all, conversing with player agents.

What are the big stories in Ram camp this summer?

Will Shane Conlan be able to make the treacherous transition from inside linebacker to middle linebacker, a move of about two steps to the right?

Can Irv Eatman adequately replace Gerald Perry as the weakside/blindside protection for Jim Everett?

Can Leo Goeas fill Joe Milinichik’s shoes?

Is it pronounced Henry Roll-ing or Henry Rawl-ing?

Will Chuck Knox trade Cleveland Gary in July or August?

Will Jerome Bettis get the ball 25 or 26 times a game?

Can T.J. Rubley can make the step up to second-string quarterback?

If so, who replaces Mike Pagel as holder on extra points?

Elsewhere around the league, training-camp intrigue burns just as white hot.

In Kansas City, they have to find out if Joe Montana is the second coming of Len Dawson or the second coming of David Cone.

In San Francisco, 49er fans have to decide whether it’s all right to cheer for Steve Young now.

In Green Bay, the Packers want to know if Reggie White can lead them to the Super Bowl or merely buy them all good seats.

In Houston, Webster Slaughter tries to beat Ernest Givins out of a job and Buddy Ryan tries to beat Jack Pardee out of a job.

In Dallas, every pass Troy Aikman tosses in practice will be analyzed and diagramed in the Morning News sports section the following day.

In Buffalo, the Bills attempt to figure out what went wrong, what went wrong, what went wrong.

In Minnesota, team trainers practice the two-minute stretcher drill for Jim McMahon.

In Chicago, Mike Ditka will be asked what he thought of the White team’s lackluster performance in Dave Wannstedt’s first intrasquad scrimmage.

In New England, players will look at their helmets and wonder when they were traded to the Arena Football League.

In Tampa Bay, Sam Wyche has to choose between Steve DeBerg, Craig Erickson, Mike Pawlawski, Mark Vlasic or the single-wing.

In New Orleans, Jim Mora has to choose between Wade Wilson, Mike Buck, Steve Walsh or punting on first down.

In New York, Dan Reeves will miss John Elway more than he ever imagined.

In Atlanta, Eric Dickerson will wonder how he wound up in Atlanta.

In Los Angeles, Al Davis will stand up in a front-office meeting, proclaim, “We’re still the greatest organization in professional sports,” and everyone in the room will nod very rapidly and reply, “You’re right, Al! Never a doubt, Al! You’re a genius, Al!”

In San Diego, John Friesz will think long and hard after Bobby Ross asks if he’d like to move from quarterback to wide receiver.

And in Phoenix, Joe Bugel will watch Steve Beuerlein pass the ball to Gary Clark and hand the ball to Garrison Hearst, prompting Bugel to ask himself, “If I go 4-12 with this group, how do I talk myself out of that one?”

Aside from that, now seems like a good time to go ahead with that Caribbean vacation. OK if we all come back as soon as something newsworthy happens?

Say, the first Sunday in September?