The Prolate Spheroid

Anyone know what a prolate spheroid is? I didn't think so. It's the geometrical, algebraic, trigonometrical, astro-psycho-thermonuclear-physionometrical name....... its the technical term for the shape of a football. I know this because one of the more bizarre offshoots of my football insanity is my collection of footballs both old and new. I think I have around 26 now. I've got the most current model game ball, an XFL ball (not the replica with the plastic laces... the authentic Spalding model) An Arena League ball, an NCAA model and a variety of models used in the various levels from pro to pee wee. My favorite is an old Duke I bought on e-bay. I've always wanted a Duke ever since I was a kid and had a discussion about it with my brother and my cousin the family football god. One night I was "Helmet drunk" (more on that later) and browsing the internet and came across a guy selling a real Duke from the 60's. It was obviously worn and it no longer held air. I didn't care. I knew from perusing the Wilson website that one could purchase a bladder and re-lacing kit for a mere five bucks and change and that’s what I proceeded to do. I'd spoken to my buddy George who told me he knew how to re-lace a ball and had done it several times before. I, on the other hand, never had occasion to but since he had the know-how and the kit was chump change I figured what the hell. I was thrilled that I'd soon have a reborn authentic Duke. This was about two years before they came out with a replica throwback ball and then changed the name of the newly redesigned game ball to The Duke in honor of the recently passed Wellington Mara, after whom the original Duke was named.
After winning a not too competitive bidding war for the old flat ball, it finally arrived and the re-lacing and bladder kit shortly thereafter. I contacted George during the week and we arranged to meet the following Saturday morning to breathe life into my new prize possession. Much like Kevin Spacey’s character in American Beauty says when his wife asks him where the family car is and what the old Pontiac is doing in the driveway he announces. "It's a 69 GTO. It's the car I've always wanted and now I have it" I had similar feelings.
So the Saturday arrives and I headed over to George’s and when he answered the door I could see he was asleep up to that point but, whatever, I thought. It was apparent he had a hangover from hell and regretted having made this commitment. A better man would have offered to come back another time. Me, I thought to myself "Fuck that, he said he was gonna do it and I ain't leaving without a fully inflated Duke" So we went over to the couch and got to work. The kit came out and we read the instructions and started trying. Nothing seemed to go right. The directions confused me but this wasn't a problem since I had an old pro on my side. Or so I thought.
Poor George kept putting laces in holes only to get a confused look on his face moments later and then start over. Then he'd study the directions for another ten minutes and start again. There was much hangover pain on his face, his breath reeked of Rum and you could almost hear the static noise in his head. Still I felt little mercy for him. The directions were re-read by both of us several times till finally sensing failure and facing the prospect of leaving without my revived Duke I turned to him and asked angrily (as only a real friend can do to someone who's trying to help him for free) "Motherfucker, I thought you said you knew how to do this ?! " He hung his throbbing head looking confused and defeated and mumbled something about needing a leather-makers tool called an All (or awl, who the hell knows). I gathered up my shit and left in a huff, leaving him to sleep it off.
I arrived home and realized that it was all me now and if I didn't figure out a way to get this done my project would stall and die. I thought about what the awl was meant to accomplish in this procedure and fashioned a thin hook type tool out of a wire hanger and made a suitable handle by wrapping a sock around the T shaped top and wrapping that tightly in duct tape. Now I ask you, is that a man project or what? Going all McGuyver to create a tool out of a wire hangar, an old sock and duct tape? And this to bring an ancient classic football back to life? As far as I'm concerned I could flounce around in a tutu singing show tunes in a girly voice with a lisp for the rest of my life and I'd still have enough testosterone cred to keep my membership card in the real man club. Am I right, or am I right?
I'd absorbed enough information about the task at hand from the previous failed efforts and the home-made lacing tool functioned flawlessly. By the time I was halfway through I knew it was going to work and was just giddy. About half an hour later the job was complete and I stuck the needle in the hole and pumped life back into the Duke exclaiming a la Young Frankenstein "It's alive!" Still I wasn't done with it. It was so old that all the ink from the markings had more or less disappeared and while this bothered me a little at first, a while later while helmet drunk I decided that something had to be done about it. So while idly watching a tape of an old Jets game I took a pen and started to fill in a few small markings to see if I liked the result. It was perfect. On the leather the blue ink came out as a purplish black that looked just right on the old ball. Not brand new looking but much more visible than before. It took hours of careful work but in the end it was vastly improved. And so my Duke joined my nascent collection and got a new lease on life from E-bay, Wilson, and two easily confused drunks. In the coming year I would do my George Plimpton routine and play a handful of games with George and the local team and I would bring different footballs from my collection to practices to get some use. I don't believe in letting them sit on the shelf. I use 'em but the renewed authentic Duke is the one that gives me the most pride in showing off and throwing around. Ahhh, I love a story with a happy ending.

PS My next column will explain "helmet drunk"