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Blackie Sherrod, the legendary sports columnist of the Dallas Morning News and other papers, would often write “scattershooting” lines, that is to say, “Scattershooting—while wondering whatever happened to Don Meredith.”

That similiarity is about as close as this columm will come to reminding anyone of Blackie’s superb writing.

Did you see “The Greatest Game ...” on ESPN, on Saturday, December 13? We were told by promos we were going to see all of, or a lot of, the Baltimore Colts’ 23-17 win over the New York Giants 50 years ago—Dec. 28, 1958.

That was the first and only NFL championship game that went into overtime, and many say it stoked the fires for the league’s great popularity.

I saw the game live, as a 15-year-old, on a black and white television set.

The ESPN show—in my opinion—was awful. What we got was a mix of several plays—maybe—in a row—and then interviews with some of the players in the game and members of the Giants and Colts of today.

It was miserably disjointed, no flow, no rhythm whatsoever. You got a feel for zero of the marvelous battle at Yankee Stadium.

By the way, some of the players-of-today on the set looked like they had about as much interest in a 1958 game as they would in a Senate seat in Illinois.

It would have been like me sitting through a discussion of the 1916 presidential campaign.

There was easily enough footage to just let the film roll, with radio calls, narration, and graphics on the screen to give yard line and down and the score. THEN, when it was done, bring on the interviews.

Why did ESPN do it this way? They want to appeal to the sportswriters of the world that they’re more than highlights; they know that’s all in the past, might as well bring back newsreels to the movie theaters. ESPN guys want to be looked upon as cerebral types who can hobnob with Sports Illustrated and New York Times contributors. Forget the viewer.

I called Bill Tyson, my best friend of MORE than 50 years, in Memphis, about 20 minutes into the show; he’s a bigger sports fan than I am, if you can believe that.

When he answered, knowing who it was, he asked, “Can you believe how atrocious this is?” No, I couldn’t.

I had high hopes of seeing everything come alive again like any other TV game, the only difference being, of course, I knew the outcome.

Oh, did this contest have it all: Johnny Unitas throwing to Paris, Texas’ Raymond Berry; Frank Gifford’s gallant, but terrible day, fumbling the ball; the very controversial spot that cost the Giants a critical first down—no, no replay.

The game-tying field goal by Baltimore in the fading seconds of regulation.

My goodness, I never tire of seeing that Longines scoreboard—and those lights, oh, those lights aglow, telling you the score and telling you the game was over but tied and not decided!

It was in the early evening in the twilight and cold of magical New York at Christmas time—and all of it at the greatest sports arena in history!

And finally, Unitas’ and the Colts’ masterful drive in overtime which ended with Alan “The Horse” Ameche scoring on a short touchdown run, 23-17.

It was a football game in the House that Ruth Built, and it was a House that gave a 15-year-old boy a preview of what he’d see in five decades to come: the great Vince Lombardi teams, the AFL, the merger, the Cowboys, the Super Bowl and all the other gridiron wonders—wonders crafted by athletes we see in highlights—much more enjoyable than hearing talk of them in interviews.

Shame on ESPN for turning its back on the rock upon which sports on TV was built.

Those highlights are what got that network on to the air waves some three decades ago. Now, its mistress is “The Sports Reporters.”

Gee, why not bring back newsreels to the movie theater?