"What do you see, Bobby?" asks Kuczo, playing the straight man as he tapes.
"You see bubble gum, man, cases of bubble gum, free bubble gum. You know why we never get any bubble gum?"
"Why don't we have any bubble gum, Bobby?"
"Because," Mitchell whispers conspiratorially. "Those bubble-gum people send it up to New York for Pete Rozelle to test. You damn well better know that right this minute Pete Rozelle is sitting up there with a big wad of bubble gum in each cheek—our bubble gum," shouts Mitchell as though ready to lead an immediate assault on the commissioner's office.
The other half of the prime Redskin battery, Sonny Jurgensen, sits very quietly in a far corner of the training room talking dreamily about the mountains of his native North Carolina. "The thing is, out there you can go off by yourself and be absolutely alone, not see anyone. More people ought to do that. The reason we don't is because we're afraid to be all alone. We're getting terrified of ourselves."
Even for a before-the-game comment, it is an odd and thought-provoking remark coming from a young man who has earned considerable fame and fortune by making an exhibit of himself before 50,000 or so people every fall Sunday for the past 11 years.
In another corner Dr. George A. Resta, a Washington surgeon and a pioneer sports-medicine man who is the Redskin physician, has set up shop and is principally engaged in needle work. He jabs an occasional syringe full of a muscle relaxer into a tight shoulder or thigh, but the real hot hypodermic item is a B-12 vitamin solution.
"Reduces fatigue and the possibility of cramps," says Resta of the drug. "We tell them about it, but it's up to them whether they want the shot or not. Now today practically the whole team has got one. You know what that means."
"What does that mean?"
"That means we will win. They are up for this one. They want every little bit of edge they can get. I can always tell."