Anonymous (not verified) - Fri, 02/01/1991 - 12:00am
The camera zooms for sweat and chalk and blood, close up. It lingers on the flouncing skirts of tennis pubescents, betrays the bulging bellies of bowlers. Pulls slowly back to reveal a vast ersatz Roman coliseum swanning with half-mad fans.
On the intimate soundtrack we hear the labored grunting of linemen, the sneaker squeak of parquet floors, the pathetic kvetching of desperate coaches, the sudden snaps of bone ending games, careers, and hopes.