It had Jack Lemmon as a very unhip corporate nobody who had stumbled into an artsy Manhattan cocktail party where the women all had on white plastic miniskirts and the men were wearing leisure suits with turtlenecks and love beads. Everyone was sipping cocktails. Vaguely sexy conceptual art was everywhere. Jack was in love with his boss's wife, Catherine Deneuve. Pretty soon the boss, Peter Lawford, wearing the biggest, baddest beads of them all, comes up to Jack and tries to make conversation.
Baseball is dead, dead, dead.
Football is too violent. They've been predicting it since Mario Lemieux was knee high to a baguette. Since Neil Armstrong took one small step for a man. And yet it's never happened in quite the way Peter Lawford was expecting. This is why the Minnesota Wild have been a hit in their first year in St. Paul.