Greetings, Swine! As chief archivist and guardian-by-default of the Swine tradition, I can once more proudly claim to have maintained that tradition staunchly by diddling around for months before getting the report out. This is done for a reason. By the middle of February, the whole game has become so vague in everyone's mind that anything said here has to be accepted as a true account. This gives your reporter license to make up anything he likes, the better to entertain you all. So here goes.

Our records show that this year's roster included: Uncle Meatball, Jenny G, Tim R, Julie G, Tim G, Jon G, David G, Ben G, Sam G, Dustin, Boom, Simon, Elliot, Robert Grobe, Connie, Mitchel, Michael Waltuch, Jody, Henry Ilian, Julia, Jude, Yrs. Truly, Cassie, Sam, Sam's Hampshire friends Joe, Rel, Emma and Juliet, Nate Kokernot with friend Jake (hung-over non-combatants), Marta Landell (friend of Julie G's and longtime Swine fan (non-combatant) and maybe a few other odd friends and acquaintances. (Please report any inadvertent omissions to the clerk.) It should be noted that neither Clyde Haberman nor the Mayor of Leonia made it this year.

Black marks for truancy were issued to: Aaron B & Yumi, Allie, Tony & Sheila, Polly, Dan Greeman, Ed Greenblat, Nick Taylor & Courtney, Mr. Purdy & Cathy, and Martin Carnoy, although some of these have submitted applications for excused absences, which are now pending (chance of approval is generally proportional to distance from NYC, although other factors are considered). A few others (Anya, Sheila B) avoided sanctions by showing up at Boom's. Steve Clarke was marked absent for the 41st year in a row, as were Alan Danson, David Malev, Susan Walter, "Don," and a few others. A process is in place to have these individuals extradited to the Central Park Police Precinct where they will face lengthy prison terms.

This year's Swine Bowl will of course be remembered as the first to follow the departure of our dear friend Mark Taylor last spring. Here one hardly knows what to say. Mark began his career as a Swine in the early 60's--i.e., almost 50 years ago--and attended faithfully ever after. There is no one over the course of the years who contributed more to the spirit of Swine Bowl, who brightened the afternoons more with kindness and humor, who was more beloved by all who knew him, than Mark Taylor. The consensus seems to be that human beings don't come any better. This is, of course, Swine Bowl's second great loss. Mark's passing was not officially commemorated at the game, as was Peter's--I guess because we've come to feel there's nothing adequate we can say about such losses. But no doubt it was felt by all of us throughout the day (it certainly was by me) as an aching sadness. To say that we will miss Mark Taylor does not begin to describe what his absence means. We share his family's grief, and we treasure his memory.

(I had the honor last spring of speaking at Mark's memorial service. One thing I recall talking about was Mark's role in Swine Bowl. If I can find it in my files I'll pass it along.)

As for THE GAME: As usual, a blur. A number of our stringers have written in to make sure we did not overlook the obvious candidate for Play of the Year: Timmy Greeman's 90-yard dash for a TD with the ball stowed in a shopping bag full of sandwiches. Not much chance of overlooking that one. It was not only the play's brilliant conception and flawless execution, but its style--the elegant nonchalance with which Timmy sauntered unobtrusively through the opposition--that has emblazoned it in our memories. (Replays can be seen on YouTube, and have already been aired exhaustively on late-night talk shows.)

Other notable plays: Julia Ilian is handed the ball and bulls her way upfield for 30 yards or so, surrounded by a protective phalanx of teammates (no hiding under sweatshirt this time--this tried and true maneuver relies on sheer brute force). Also, proud father Henry reports, "Julia Ilian made a spectacular tag on/of/to Ben Greeman, which stopped the opposition in its tracks and changed the course of the game (at least momentarily). She also handed out home-baked butter cookies." Henry adds, "Jody Breslaw also did something which was widely acclaimed involving kicking the ball, but I'm unclear as to its purpose or ultimate effect." Henry undoubtedly refers to the play in which Jody punted the ball skyward and it disappeared into space, its orbit later tracked by mystified NASA observers. David Greeman (another proud father) informs me that "Sam Greeman made three excellent catches and just missed a spectacular  one for a TD  (he was behind the defense all day), while Ben Greeman made a couple of catches but was particularly elusive running due to his 2- dimensional appearance." Tim Greeman records the fact that "Jonny Greeman intercepted the ball on the first play of the game. He also made one or two touchdowns for his team, I can't remember the specific number." Dustin Taylor had a stellar day, stepping into the quarterback slot for the first (or maybe second) time, rifling passes all over the secondary into the arms of various people, some of whom were on his team. (In general I have an impression of a number of third-generation Swine running the older folks ragged by scampering nimbly between them, which gives me concern that I might someday be cut from the squad. Fortunately, Boom continues to improve, so I can probably rely on the trick play sequences he and I developed as 12-year-olds on Beechtree Drive to keep me competitive.)  Michael Waltuch had an off-day at quarterback, but elevated his running game to new heights with a speedy, twisting return of an interception. My own favorite play, even though it nearly broke the back of our team, was Jenny Greeman fearlessly rifling a TD pass just over the outstretched hands of a leaping Sam Breslaw (this can be seen in one of Uncle Meatball's photos). Jenny, one has to admit, is rapidly becoming the game's dominant quarterback. The Hill clan was ably represented by Simon and Elliot, who caught and intercepted passes with reckless abandon, while maintaining a running commentary that mingled ironic witticisms with protestations that they really don't know how to play football. (A good thing for the rest of us that they don't.) Sam Breslaw almost completed a touchdown pass to his Hampshire friend Joe, spotted just as he was arriving at the game from the direction of the end zone--but Joe dropped the ball. Uncle Meatball, of course, defeated Boom once again in hand-to-hand combat, and presided over the game with his customary genial blend of humor, cheating, and trenchant political analysis. If I remember correctly, he may also have kicked off.

Finally this observation from the goodly knight Sir Robert Grobe: "I lack any memory of outstanding feats of skill, but I was frankly delighted to note that the field has no longer been employed solely for the grim and brutal battle of gridiron conflict, but had also accommodated the simultaneous maintenance of a middle eastern bazaar where friends may talk leisurely in the middle of the playing field, relaxing and eating sandwiches, imbibing calvados, and catching up with others regarding the previous year's fortunes, while warriors are knocked senseless a few feet away and are hurried off to ambulances. This recalls for me the ancient "pit" of Elizabethan days, where players had to shout their lines to the audience, who seemed more preoccupied with talking to the friends at their elbows."

From the Robbins/Purdy family, comes the report that Swine Day was spent in San Francisco touring museums with kids and grandkids. They passed through Golden Gate Park, which prompted reflections on Swine Bowl, causing Purdy to take a swig on his jug of corn likker and fire his shotgun into the air, which caused him to be arrested, as he is every Swine Day. He was released after sleeping it off.

That's about it for news. Once again Boom and Kay presided generously over post-game festivities, where food was eaten, liquids were drunk, and appearances were made by Sheila Breslaw, Anya Taylor, Andrew Craner, and maybe others I've forgotten. (Not from any lack of consideration, it's just my addled brain. The King of England could gave been there and I might not remember.) It was especially nice for all of us to see Anya, who has coped so graciously with such an unimaginably difficult thing. We love you, Grobus.

See y'all at LVII.         

Respectfully submitted,
D. Dogge.