My old Russian contact, Ivan the Unbearable, showed up at my door yesterday. Before I knew it, he was plopped on the sectional, drinking my beer, scouring TV Guide. Seems Ivan had just finished a lengthy engagement in Siberia for using five aces to win too many rubles from the czar's great-grand-nephew.
"Amerikansky," he said, eating my hoagie, "it is 10 years since I have seen TV or newspaper. What is buzz in your National Foozball League?"
Uh, well, I said, the San Diego Ch—
Suddenly he jumped on the coffee table and roared, "What is this?" He was pointing to a listing in TV Guide. "This week: Monday Night Foozball—Washington Redskins at Dallas Cowboys! It does not get better than such as this, Amerikansky!"
Well, actually, Ivan—
"Holy borscht!" he cried, pounding the buttons on my remote. "Is best rivalry in all foozball! Is best rivalry in all sport!"
No, Ivan. It's not what you think. Both of these teams are aw—
"Awesome, yes, I know! We shall have monster kegger! You bring Hogs noses, and I dress in Tom Landry fedora! Give me phone! Must get hands on good tickets to scalp to senators!"
No, no. Nobody wants Redskins tickets anymore. They want Wizards tickets!
"Bah. You drink too much wodka. Do you know toll-free for Eastern Airlines? I will rent giant 747 to bring rowdy Redskins fans down. Must call my friend Jack Kent Cooke, smartest owner in sports. He will bankroll deal for his comrade Ivan."