The same holds true in college football. James A. Marchiony, director of media services for the National Collegiate Athletic Association, says, “Game balls are distributed at the sole discretion of each team’s head coach; a winning, losing or tying coach may give out as many as he or she wishes.”
Submitted by Larry Prussin, of Yosemite, California.
WHY WAS HE CALLED THE LONE RANGER WHEN TONTO WAS ALWAYS HANGING AROUND?
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The classic western features a lone hero entering a new town and facing a villain who threatens the peacefulness of a dusty burg. The Lone Ranger, on the other hand, came with a rather important backup, Tonto. Leaving aside questions of political correctness or racism, calling the masked man the Lone Ranger is a little like calling Simon and Garfunkel a Paul Simon solo act.
Before we get to the “Lone” part of the equation, our hero actually was a ranger, in fact, a Texas Ranger. The Lone Ranger started as a radio show, first broadcast out of Detroit in 1933, created by George Trendle, and written by Fran Striker. The first episode established that circa 1850, the Lone Ranger was one of six Texas Rangers who were trying to tame the vicious Cavendish Gang. Unfortunately, the bad guys ambushed the Rangers, and all of the Lone Ranger’s comrades were killed. The Lone Ranger himself was left for dead. Among the vanquished was the Lone Ranger’s older brother, Dan.
So for a few moments, long enough to give him his name, the Lone Ranger really was by himself. He was the lone surviving Ranger, even if he happened to be unconscious at the time. Tonto stumbled upon the fallen hero and, while nursing him back to health, noticed that the Ranger was wearing a necklace that Tonto had given him as a child. Many moons before, the Lone Ranger (who in subsequent retellings of the story we learn was named John Reid) saved Tonto’s life! Tonto had bestowed the necklace on his blood brother as a gift.
When Reid regained his bearings, the two vowed to wreak revenge upon the Cavendish Gang and to continue “making the West a decent place to live.” Reid and Tonto dug six graves at the ambush site to make everyone believe that Reid had perished with the others, and to hide his identity, the Lone Ranger donned a black mask, made from the vest his brother was wearing at the massacre. Tonto was the only human privy to the Lone Ranger’s secret.
Not that the Lone Ranger didn’t solicit help from others. It isn’t easy being a Ranger, let alone a lone one, without a horse. As was his wont, Reid stumbled onto good luck. He and Tonto saved a brave stallion from being gored by a buffalo, and nursed him back to health (the first episode of The Lone Ranger featured almost as much medical aid as fighting). Although they released the horse when it regained its health, the stallion followed them and, of course, that horse was Silver, soon to be another faithful companion to L.R.
And would a lonely lone Ranger really have his own, personal munitions supplier? John Reid did. The Lone Ranger and Tonto met a man who the Cavendish Gang tried to frame for the Texas Ranger murders. Sure of his innocence, the Lone Ranger put him in the silver mine that he and his slain brother owned, and turned it into a “silver bullet” factory.
Eventually, during the run of the radio show, which lasted from 1933 to 1954, the duo vanquished the Cavendish Gang, but the Lone Ranger and Tonto knew when they found a good gig. They decided to keep the Lone Ranger’s true identity secret, to keep those silver bullets flowing, and best of all, to bounce into television in 1949 for a nine-year run on ABC and decades more in syndication.
The Lone Ranger was also featured in movie serials, feature movies, and comic books, and the hero’s origins mutated slightly or weren’t mentioned at all. But the radio show actually reran the premiere episode periodically, so listeners in the 1930s probably weren’t as baffled about why a law enforcer with a faithful companion, a fulltime munitions supplier, and a horse was called “Lone.”
Submitted by James Telfer IV of New York, New York.
WHAT DID BARNEY RUBBLE DO FOR A LIVING?
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We have received this Imponderable often but never tried to answer it because we thought of it as a trivia question rather than an Imponderable. But as we tried to research the mystery of Barney’s profession, we found that even self-professed “Flintstones” fanatics couldn’t agree on the answer.
And we are not the only ones besieged. By accident, we called Hanna-Barbera before the animation house’s opening hours. Before we could ask the question, the security guard said, “I know why you’re calling. You want to know what Barney Rubble did for a living. He worked at the quarry. But why don’t you call back after opening hours?” The security guard remarked that he gets many calls from inebriated “Flintstones” fans in the middle of the night, pleading for Barney’s vocation before they nod off for the evening.
We did call back, and spoke to Carol Keis, of Hanna-Barbera public relations, who told us that this Imponderable is indeed the company’s most frequently asked question of all Flintstone trivia. She confirmed that the most commonly accepted answer is that Barney worked at Fred’s employer, Bedrock Quarry & Gravel:
However, out of 166 half-hours from 1960–1966, there were episodic changes from time to time. Barney has also been seen as a repossessor, he’s done top secret work, and he’s been a geological engineer.
As for the manner in which Barney’s occupation was revealed, it was never concretely established (no pun intended) [sure]. It revealed itself according to the occupation set up for each episode.
Most startling of all, Barney actually played Fred’s boss at the quarry in one episode. Sure, the lack of continuity is distressing. But then we suspend our disbelief enough to swallow that Wile E. Coyote can recover right after the Road Runner drops a safe on Coyote’s head from atop a mountain peak, too.
Hanna-Barbera does not have official archives, so Keis couldn’t assure us that she hadn’t neglected one of Barney Rubble’s jobs. Can anyone remember any more?
Submitted by Rob Burnett of New York, New York.
WHY ARE THERE EIGHTEEN HOLES ON A GOLF COURSE?
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In Scotland, the home of golf, courses were originally designed with varying numbers of holes, depending on the parcel of land available. Some golf courses, according to U.S. Golf Association Librarian Janet Seagle, had as few as five holes.
The most prestigious golf club, the Royal and Ancient Golf Club of St. Andrews, originally had twenty-two holes. On October 4, 1764, its original course, which had contained eleven holes out and eleven holes in, was reduced to eighteen holes total in order to lengthen them and make St. Andrews more challenging. As a desire to codify the game grew, eighteen holes was adopted as the standard after the St. Andrews model.
HOW DO THE NETWORKS SELL ADVERTISING TIME WHEN LIVE PROGRAMS RUN LONGER THAN SCHEDULED?
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Who knows how long the Academy Awards will last? Or the Super Bowl? Certainly, the networks don’t. With thirty-second commercial spots fetching hundreds of thousands of dollars, you can be assured that big money is at stake. Obviously, networks would like to sell commercials during overruns, but how can they sell time when they don’t know if they are going to have it? And what about the local affiliate, which usually airs its own ads at 11:00 PM, when the Academy Awards is just getting to the important nominations?
When they air an event that they know has the potential to run past its allotted time, the networks try to sell advertising spots on a contingency basis. ABC might approach Kraft and say: “Do you want to buy a spot on the Oscars after the third hour?” Kraft would argue that ABC can’t guarantee placement of the ad (sometimes the Oscar broadcast almost comes in on time). ABC would counter with a reduced price—something on the order of a 30 percent discount—to compensate Kraft for the possibility that the commercial will not air. ABC is happy that it has eked out some gravy for commercial time it would have otherwise not sold. Kraft is happy because it gets a bargain rate and reaches an audience likely to hang in to find out who won for best picture. Likewise, overrun time on sports programmi
ng is likely to be a bargain: Viewers will stay tuned to see who wins the contest, and afternoon events that run long tend to bleed into prime time (in some parts of the country, at least), when the number of sets in use is higher.
Why don’t sponsors jockey to buy overrun time? For the most part, commercials are bought by advertising agencies representing sponsors. Commercials are usually designed to influence specific demographic groups, and advertising time is bought in order to reach a designated number of that group within a certain amount of time. Sponsors tend not to be as concerned about “bargains” (they know approximately how much it will cost them to reach each thousand of their targeted audience) as they are about reaching that audience efficiently (they don’t want to sell life insurance on The O.C., whose audience is predominantly young and female when most of their customers are older and male) and quickly.
Many companies use live programs (sports, awards shows) that might overrun to introduce new products, announce improvements and changes in image of products, since specials and sports are exciting and glamorous environments in which to showcase their “exciting news.” When a company is making such an important announcement, it is imperative that commercials run as scheduled, to coincide with its products’ hitting the stores.
Networks aren’t always successful at selling overrun time, however. If not, their best strategy is to use the vacant advertising time to promote their own shows. Ever since ABC used the 1976 Olympics to successfully hype its prime-time line-up for the fall, networks have become acutely aware of the power of promotion within important television events to increase the initial tune-in of regular series.
The last option of the network, and by far the least desirable, is to use up the extra commercial time by running free ads. When networks haven’t sold time and haven’t planned extra promo time, they will often run ads at no cost to the sponsor rather than run public-service spots. Public-service spots denote to the viewer that no commercial time could be sold, a failing the networks do not want conveyed, even subliminally, to the viewer.
When network overruns impinge on their affiliates’ time (11:00 PM E.S.T., 10:00 C.S.T.), the local station usually loses the revenue from commercials already sold for that period. In most cases, local stations sell time in “strips,” meaning that sponsors buy, say, five 30-second spots during the 11:00–11:30 PM period, Monday through Friday. The station may place the sponsor’s five spots on whatever day or days it wishes to. If the network preempts its time, the local station will simply place the ad on another day. If the station were totally sold out of commercial time for the quarter and the network preempted it, the station may have to refund the sponsor’s money unless some kind of trade of time slots can be negotiated. It thus isn’t hard to understand why local affiliates don’t appreciate even planned overruns, such as theatrical movies that are longer than two hours. Although local stations profit from the limited number of commercials they can sell per hour during the network lineup, they can make more during local programming, when the network doesn’t have its finger in their pie.
WHY ARE RACQUETBALLS BLUE?
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Larry Josefowicz, of Wilson Sporting Goods Co., told Imponderables that the dark blue color is the most easily discernible. Light colors fade into the wooden floors and white or cream walls of a racquetball court. Considering how fast a racquetball moves during a game, the choice of colors becomes a safety, as well as a playability, issue.
Wilson and its competitors tested other colors, but none combined visibility with customer preference like the present color. Brad Patterson, executive director of the Racquetball Manufacturers Association, adds that at one time, black and dark green racquetballs were tested, but they marked the walls. Patterson doesn’t see any other color stealing blue’s thunder in the near future:
The other reason it will be difficult to ever phase in any other color ball is simply player preference. It is akin to yellow tennis balls now [yellow tennis balls were also introduced to improve visibility, especially for indoor and nighttime tennis]. The players simply prefer blue, since that is the color they grew up with…
Submitted by Gary Fradkin of Carmel, New York.
WHY DON’T BAREFOOT FIELD GOAL KICKERS AND PUNTERS GET BROKEN FEET?
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Jeff Atkinson, a former National Football League kicker, told Imponderables that most kickers detest the drag of a shoe, for the faster a kicker can get his foot through the ball, the farther he can kick it. Although most football kickers favor sleek, tight-fitting soccer shoes, a minority favor kicking in the buff. The thought is enough to make you cringe.
But barefoot kickers don’t break their feet. Why not? In the now omnipresent soccer-style field goal kick, the foot meets the ball not on the toes but well above them, where the laces of the shoe would be if they were wearing shoes, and a little to the left of center (for right-footed kickers). Sports physician John R. McCarroll adds that if the kick is properly executed, the ball is struck by a flat surface of the most stable parts of the foot.
Why are there fewer barefoot punters than place-kickers? Because punts are executed on the outside rather than the inside of the foot. If you kick a punt on the same spot as a place-kick, the ball won’t spiral properly. The outside of the foot is a little more susceptible to pain and injury than the inside of the foot, so there are fewer barefoot punters.
Atkinson says that the one time barefoot kickers often regret their choice is when kicking off. The most pain a kicker is likely to sustain is not from the football but from the hard plastic that holds the ball, which players sometimes hit accidentally.
Submitted by Dr. Roger Alexander of San Diego, California.
WHERE DO THEY GET THAT AWFUL MUSIC FOR ICE SKATING?
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There are few things quite so disconcerting in sports as watching a pair of graceful and athletic skaters putting their hearts, souls, and bodies into interpreting music that sounds like common garden sludge. But, honest: Skaters and their coaches don’t deliberately go out and select the worst arrangements of songs to showcase their prowess. There are logical explanations for why the music in free skating and ice dancing is often so unsatisfactory.
1. The skaters must choose music that will please judges. Competitive skaters are mostly in their teens and twenties, but judges are mostly middle-aged and older. Skating to “Stairway to Heaven” or John Cage’s last avant-garde symphony is no more likely to score high with international skating judges than singing a Prince medley would with Miss America judges. In some cases, coaches select the music for skaters; some skaters select their own. Usually, it is a collaborative process between the two. But music must always be selected that will impress judges, even if the arrangement is unlikely to bowl over audiences.
Theoretically, the selection of music should have no bearing on the marks that skaters are given. Judges are only supposed to judge how well skaters interpret the music. But not one of the skating authorities Imponderables spoke to doubted that music selection was a crucial element in building a successful program. One judge we spoke to admitted that an emotional, easy-to-follow piece of music, for example, was much more likely to engage judges than a difficult, abstract, cacophonous one. At the very least, pleasing music can keep the judges’ attention during indifferent stretches of a skating program.
Skating judges need not have any musical training and are often musically parochial and unsophisticated. In international competition, it might be necessary to please (or at least not offend) judges from Japan, East Germany, and Canada. As a result, the television principle of “least objectionable program” is in force—if you don’t want any of the judges to “tune out,” you had better not offend any of them.
There have been several examples of prominent skaters being punished for their selection of music. One notable example was the United States’ ice dancing pair of Judy Blumberg and Michael Seibert, whose lovely performance of “Scheherazade” was not awarded a medal in the 1984 Winter Olympic
s because a judge felt that the music was inappropriate for ice dancing. According to Blumberg, this particular judge loved their skating, but didn’t feel that any music inappropriate for a dance floor should be used in the ice rink.
2. Vocals cannot be used in ice dancing and, in practice, aren’t used in free skating. Although there is no actual prohibition of vocal recordings in free skating, no one dares defy the common law. The vast majority of popular music contains vocals. The restrictions on vocal selection hinders skaters in two ways. The most obvious is that they are deprived of using what are often the best orchestrated and produced versions of any given song and the versions with which both audiences and judges are most familiar. Even worse, skaters and coaches are forced to become musical archivists, desperately scrambling to find any all-instrumental rendition of a song they select. Judy Blumberg told Imponderables that when she and Michael Seibert were hunting for selections for their Fred Astaire-Ginger Rogers routine, there were some songs that they wanted to use for which they could find no all-instrumental versions.
The skaters and coaches we spoke to were evenly divided about the merits of the vocal restriction. Coach Ron Levington, who has guided the careers of Peter and Kitty Carruthers, feels that the rule isn’t necessary and is rather arbitrary. In his opinion, the rule remains in force largely to distance competitive amateur skating events from the professional ice shows. Levington echoed the feeling of others that there is no reason that vocals have to be distracting to the judges.
Imponderables: Fun and Games Page 9
