To the mordant eye of Satirist Tomi Ungerer a professional football stadium on a fall afternoon has the look of an amphitheater. The game is a circus; the performers are automated, armor-plated robots whose masks suggest rhinoceroses (right). Some seem to be supermen in astronaut gear. The pageantry is reminiscent of the Middle Ages, but the contest belongs to ancient Rome, with the defeated condemned to death by the jeering, merciless citizens.
This is an article from the Nov. 16, 1964 issue
Tighten well the nuts and bolts, oil freely the shining armor's clacking joints.
War on the land: clawing hands reach out-to dig and cut like tearing barbs.
The muzzled defenseman growls and waits to be unleashed to storm into the arena.
And war in the sea: like tentacles the tacklers' probing arms envelop and enfold.
The citizens turn thumbs down on No. 45 and all the losers. Thumbs down, that is, until next week.