BIG BUSINESS - FOOTBALL

 BIG BUSINESS - FOOTBALL 

By Duncan 

This morning, I woke reflecting on the Thanksgiving football game between the Green Bay Packers and the Miami Dolphins, which, by the way, Green Bay won 30-17. I live in Indianapolis; my team is the Indianapolis Colts. My thoughts turned to football because of the money—specifically, da-big-money. So, I did a little research. 

After coming home late on Thanksgiving Day, I feared I would miss the big game that started at 8:00 PM on NBC. My sister-in-law had invited us for Thanksgiving dinner, so we drove over the river and through the woods to my wife’s sister’s home in Kentucky. 

You know the drill: I go to someone's home on Thanksgiving, far away, with people I don’t know. At this family gathering, everyone enjoys a meal and engages in pleasant, non-confrontational, nonpolitical conversation. Or at least that was the expectation.  

I decided to embrace a polite demeanor. This is the year for restraint, allowing my flamboyant personality to take a backseat. I kept brushing my sideburns over my ears so I wouldn’t look like a homeless person. I haven’t had a haircut in many moons. I don’t know these people, and they don’t know me. I should have gotten a haircut. 

I sat quietly in the living room on their leather couch, mostly to myself. I sipped my scotch from a small orange juice glass with yellow daisies printed on the side of the glass. (They didn’t have a tumbler; I brought my hooch, The Famous Grouse.) 

I made the mistake of petting their seven-year-old chocolate-colored English Springer Spaniel, who, for some reason, chose to sit beside me on the couch and couldn't take its eyes off me. It was a little disconcerting as animals can tell if you're bat shit crazy. And I wasn’t sure what he was thinking. You tell me. 

I was watching their 65” Roko TV, which was playing reruns of “All In The Family.”  

No, I didn’t ask, “Where’s football?” It’s not my home, television, or relatives, so I don’t feel it’s my place to ask questions like that. I want to be polite. As the day went on, I learned they didn’t have an outside antenna or subscribe to a streaming service—just an internet connection. Roko has complete control of what they watch. I have an opinion, but I will keep it to myself.  

Their home was situated between Lexington, Kentucky, and Cincinnati, Ohio. Because of the hills and valleys where their home is located, it’s unlikely they could pick up a good over-the-air (OTA) television signal, even with a good antenna. Louisville was also too far away. Obviously, one can only assume they have not embraced the world of streaming services.

Okay, I hear you saying, “Hey, Duncan, there is more to life than football! 

“On Thanksgiving?” 

Okay, but given the option between watching old re-runs of All In The Family or Football, what would you do if you had a choice? Like the networks, I’m trying to think, what will get the most ears and eyeballs? Come on, you know the answer to this question. 

Here is the problem with that kind of thinking: If you’re a major network and want programs that will bring as many people as possible to watch your network, tell me, what program will do that? And just what kind of programming is that? Yes, Football! Football was among the top 100 most-viewed TV programs in 2023. See the graph below.  

The next big problem is money; as a television network, you have got to have a sack full of cash to pay the NFL for the rights to broadcast the games. And who is the NFL? The 32 teams that belong to the NFL get a cut of the Billions (with a Capital B), which means that networks pay the NFL for the rights to broadcast the NFL games. 

So, what about football. As I sat in my easy chair at home, watching the game. I started thinking. What do I know? The average number of people that watch a regular season NFL game is between sixteen (16) million and eighteen (18) million. I’m not counting the Holiday Games or the Super Bowl—just the regular season games. 

On average, you will see 100 (30-second) ads in an NFL game. Now, what are our choices? We can watch Thursday night football, Sunday during the day football, Sunday night football, and Monday night football. 

So, what does advertising cost on each of the four networks? 

Thursday night:  $579,521   (1 - 30 second ad.)    $579,521  /  18 M = $31.00 per person. 

Sunday day        $696,345   (1 - 30 second ad.)    $696,345  /  18 M = $26.00 per person.

Sunday night      $882,000.  (1 - 30 second ad.)    $882,000  /  18 M = $20.41 per person. 

Monday night.    $637,718.   (1- 30 second ad.)    $637,718  /  18 M = $28.23 per person. 

So what do all these numbers mean?  

Instead of going to a game and spending (on average)  $377.00 for a seat, parking, and a $9.00 beer, I get to sit at home while an advertiser pays for my seat. You and I have advertisers buying our seats for about $25.00 to get our attention. And our attention (18 million of us) is worth about forty-two (42) million dollars per game. Don’t you just love America?  

The average NFL game generates revenue (income) of about $42 million per game, but the networks have expenses. They have to buy the rights to broadcast the game from the NFL. And if I did the math correctly, it’s about twenty (20) million a game paid to the NFL. Again, the Indianapolis Colts get a taste of the twenty (20) Million because the Colts and every other team in the NFL are shareholders. 

I couldn’t leave out the personalities that anchor the NFL games. Some you may know, some you might not. Below is a list of the Big Money sitting in front of the cameras. 

•  Tom Brady -           $37 Million a year.  FOX   

•  Jim Rome -            $30 Million a year  (Radio only)  

•  Tony Romo -           $18 Million a year.  CBS

•  Troy Aikman -         $18 Million a year.  ESPN 

•  Kirk Herbstreit -      $18 Million a year  (College)  

•  Michael Strahan      $17 million a year.  FOX pregame show 

•  Al Michaels -           $15 Million a year.  PRIME

•  Joe Buck -              $15 Million a year.  ESPN

•  Chris Collinsworth - $12.5 Million a year. NBC 

•  Stephen A Smith -   $12 Million a year.  ESPN  

•  Jim Nantz,              $10.5 Million a year.    CBS

•  Mike Tirico -            $10.5 Million a game.  NBC

•  Jimmy Johnson -      $ 4 Million a year - FOX pregame show 

•  Howie Long -           $ 4 Million a year - FOX pregame show

• Terry Bradshaw -       $ 2 Million a year - FOX pregame show

Well, if you're still with me at this point, the NFL is a money juggernaut. The networks are willing to up the ante every year to get control of the rights to broadcast the games. I need help understanding bidding billions of dollars to broadcast football. 

But, as they say, “There is just something about football.”

BGNO

BGNO

By Duncan 

I conversed with Patti Schmink McQuinn yesterday across the lunch table. We were seated in Binkley’s Kitchen and Bar with a group called BGNO, which stands for Boys' and Girls’ Night Out.

Binkley’s at 59th and College Ave. Indianapolis 

Years ago, the group was made up of all women. I don’t know if it was designed to keep men in their place or if there was an “agenda.” But one bright sunny day, a strong man knew they were going to a restaurant he wanted to experience and asked if he could join the all-female group for lunch. 

The story goes that GNO (Girl’s Night Out) quickly called a tribunal to discuss the unusual situation of allowing a man to join their all-girl group. They required evidence to be presented under oath to justify such a decision. After much deliberation, they agreed to permit ‘a man’ to become a member of GNO. However, they faced another challenge: they needed to rename GNO (Girls’ Night Out) to BGNO, signifying the inclusion of both genders in the group.

(L-R) Russ Metzler, Duncan, Steve Winegardner, Marty Denton, John Kissling, Bette Wechsler, Patti Schmink McQuinn,  Holly Hubertz Rawls. 

Our gal pal, Donna Averitt, was at the end of the table and not in the group picture. She leaned into me and said she had been sick with pneumonia but was feeling much better now. She had to leave early and was not part of the group picture. 

Perhaps the events didn’t unfold exactly as described. What are the "ties that bind" this group together? First and foremost, most members are graduates of Pike High School in Indianapolis, a shared experience that has kept them connected over the years. Additionally, I was invited to join the group for lunch, which allowed me to get to know each of them better.

I don’t receive many lunch invitations these days. I was told I would continue being invited if I behaved myself. I asked to see the Covenants, Conditions, Bylaws, and Restrictions, which are humorous in referring to the group's informal rules and regulations, contributing to its unique charm.

They told me that BGNO meets once a month for lunch at different restaurants (the second Tuesday of every month). I love exploring various ‘Watering Holes’ in and around Indy. I’m always up for leaving the house and indulging in a good tenderloin with onion rings. 

Yesterday, the tenderloin was massive, bigger than the bun, and the onion rings were outstanding. The onion rings were so good I struggle to find the words to describe them.  

Big, Fat, Greasy, Vein Clogging Bar Food … Delicious.  

I leaned across the table and started a conversation with Patti. Patti lost her husband several years ago, and since then, she feels less confident driving than she used to. I asked her where she lived and how far she had to drive to reach Binkley’s. She mentioned that she lives about 11 to 12 miles north of Binkley’s but still worries about driving. Patti then asked me about my most recent road trip. I had to confess I hadn’t been on a road trip in quite some time.

I was trying to recall my last “real” road trip. I met my personal and very close friend, Jack Maynard, at the Town Club Restaurant and Lounge in Highland, Indiana, which is located in Northwest Indiana. The Town Club Lounge sits in the shadow of the Chicago skyline. That encounter was about a month ago. Although it wasn’t long ago, it feels like it has been forever.

Jack Mayand, Duncan - Town Club Restaurant and Lounge, Highland, Indiana. 

Jack lives in Milwaukee, Wisconsin. Jack called and said, 

“How about lunch at the Town Club on Saturday, noon?”  

He called on Thursday. How long does it take to make a decision? It’s only about a two-and-a-half-hour drive to Highland. The same applies to Jack leaving Milwaukee.

We each made the trip to the Town Club for lunch, marking our second visit there. Jack suggested that we should meet more frequently than just once a year. Therefore, we have scheduled our next Town Club lunch for Saturday, January 4th, 2025, as part of a quarterly meeting.

I'm at a point where I stay home and avoid going out. However, I’ve realized that face-to-face contact—like having a cocktail or lunch, talking, laughing, and reminiscing about our good times—lifts my spirits. Why wait for the day we receive a text saying that a friend has passed away? I want to tell them today how much our friendship means to me.

I feel guilty about my last paragraph. I want to clarify that I’m not telling anyone how to live their lives. My intention is not to suggest that if you live your life like me, and if you do, you'll be better off. I often see this mindset being pushed on LinkedIn, where it seems everyone has the keys and answers to leading a productive life. 

The truth is, you have the right to live your life however you choose. 

I’m writing this diary because I enjoy reflecting on my experiences and the things that have pleased me. Only a few people read my writing, and I do not know who they are. While Google Analytics can tell me how many people have read my posts, it doesn’t reveal their identities.

I don’t fish, own a boat, work with wood, fix cars, golf, shoot skeet, or trap. So, what do I do? I enjoy lunch, savor a cocktail, engage in conversation, share laughs, and appreciate the company of my friends. When I come home, I settle into my easy chair and reflect on the day. Then, I get the urge to write a summary about my lunch, cocktail, food, and overall experience, reliving it all over again. Let’s revisit the lunch from yesterday.

I asked the group their opinions about the 9-0 Indiana University football season under the new coach, Curt Cignetti. As you can imagine, everyone was excited. They mentioned that the stadium seats were full, there was ample TV revenue and merchandise is selling extremely well. I took the opportunity to share my own story about the buzz surrounding Indiana University football.

Gabby, (Granddaughter of Tressa Faye Wheeler) John Etchison, Tressa Faye Wheeler. The lobby of the Nickle Plate Hotel. 

Saturday night, I was out with John Etchison and Tressa Faye Wheeler. We had dinner at Sahm’s Restaurant on 116th Street and Allisonville Road. During dinner, Tressa (she dislikes her name ‘Faye,’ and wants to be called Tressa) extolled her ten grandchildren's virtues and extraordinary accomplishments. She had pictures on her cell phone of her ten grandchildren that she wanted to share with John and me … all evening. 

During the dinner, she indicated she had a granddaughter who worked at the new six-story, one-hundred-six-room, thirty-million-dollar Nickle Plate Hotel in what might be considered “Downtown Fishers.” I casually mentioned that I had visited the Nickle Plate Hotel restaurant called Derailed several times last month. 

“Oh, do you know my daughter? Did you meet her by any chance? She is tall and beautiful and could be a movie star.” 

“Would her name happen to be GabbI?”

“How do you know her? Yes, that’s her. Hey, can we all go to the Nickle Plate Hotel after dinner? I will introduce you to her.”  

David Blair, GabbI - (Waitress at the restaurant called Derailed in the Nickle Plate Hotel.)  

Many of you are probably wondering how I remember a waitress named Gabbi. Here’s a short story: Dave Blair, a retired pharmacist, and I were trying to decide where to have lunch. I mentioned that I hadn’t been to the Nickle Plate Hotel Restaurant yet and wanted to go there. 

I got excited about being in this brand-new building (Opened-March 2024) and decided to celebrate with a cocktail. I always try to ask the name of the waiter or waitress serving me. It can’t hurt to say, “Gabbi, I’m thinking about a cocktail.” Instead of “Hey you, I want a drink.” 

I watch people in a restaurant and notice that many people never look up or make eye contact with the waiter or waitress when they order. 

I asked Gabbi for a Scotch with ice—or, I am sure, I said, “Scotch on the rocks.” Ice and rocks are the same thing for those who don't imbibe. I want a two-ounce pour of Scotch with ice in a tumbler. Gabbi asked, “In a tall glass or a small one?” I cupped my hands as if to suggest that the glass size was “tumbler size,” not a tall glass. 

As a young person in a restaurant or bar business, asking a customer who ordered a Scotch if I wanted a tall or short glass let me know she was relatively new to the Scotch experience. Perhaps it was a new job for her, and she was learning. After all, Scotch is an acquired taste. A young woman like her would not have experienced all the nuances of the character and history of Scotch. I sound like a snob, don’t I?

She came back and asked what brand of Scotch I preferred. I asked for the Famous Grouse, knowing they likely didn’t have a bottle. She turned her tablet around and placed her digital tablet in my hands. On the face of her tablet were 12 brands of Scotch. I didn’t recognize any of the brands. Who is the novice now? I felt like I was in a voting booth looking at the candidates for school board, and I didn’t know one of them. So, I pointed to a brand in the middle of the screen. I didn’t know it; I never heard of it.  

Well, it was an excellent choice. Wow, it was mellow. At the end of the meal, Gabbi brought us our bill. Holy smokes, I wondered why my bill was so high. I had French onion soup ($7.00), half a corned beef sandwich ($8.00), and one Glenmorangle 12-year-old Scotch. ($34.00)  With tax and tip, my first experience at Derailed came to $63.41. And that’s how Gabbi has remained in my memory. I don’t think I have ever been charged that much for a cocktail. “Let’s call it a first.”

  

Now, here's my Indiana University story. It was getting late, and I decided to head for the house. I was standing in the lobby of the Nickle Plate Hotel. I said good night to John and Tressa and turned to walk out the hotel doors. The doors were automatic; the doors opened sideways, one door going left and one going right. I started to walk through the doors and found a man trying to enter the building as I left. He stopped and allowed me to pass. He was wearing a bright red baseball cap with the insignia of IU on the cap. 

IU had just won the football game that afternoon against the Michigan Wolverines (20-15). The man was polite but had what I will call a stone face—no expression. I glanced at his cap and stopped in my tracks. I pointed to my head as if pointing to his ballcap and gave him a big thumbs up! His expression exploded; he had a huge smile on his face. 

“How about that game today?”   

“Wow, do you believe it, Michigan? We beat Michigan. That means Indiana has nine wins and no losses for the season. Unbelievable!”

“I was at the game today, and it was a madhouse.” 

“You were in Bloomington today at the game?” 

“Yes, I just had to see the game.”  

He was coming into the hotel. I assumed he was heading for the bar or to get something to eat, and I asked, “Are you from around here?”

“No, I live in Washington.”

“Washington D.C. or Washington State?”

“Washington State.”  

“Wait a minute, you live in Washington State? Are you here on business or to see family?”    

“No, neither. I flew in Friday, leaving tomorrow (Sunday) and returning home.”

“You flew into Indianapolis, rented a car, drove to Bloomington, went to the game, you’re back in Fishers, staying at this hotel tonight, and leaving tomorrow to fly back home? You did all this to see the IU / Michigan game in person?” 

“Yep!” 

We chatted for a few more minutes, then I gave him a fist bump and left the building. I need to stop worrying about a $32.00 glass of Scotch.

ARSENIC

ARSENIC 

By Duncan

Arsenic is synonymous with poison. A substance that can inadvertently lead to fatal consequences. Whether by accident or by design, the potential for arsenic to slip into a vessel of wine and cause death is a stark reminder you can’t be too careful.  

The early Chinese, Greeks, and Egyptians discovered arsenic when the earth's geological crust moved. The compound arsenic was also found after volcanic eruptions. In both cases, the heat from volcanic eruptions and tectonic plate movement created an arsenic compound.  

It was soon discovered that if you grind up this rock, it could be a silent killer. Just slip the powder into a cup of wine and “dirt nap” for one of your dearest friends.  

One of the first recorded uses of arsenic as a killer was with Attila, also known as Attila the Hun. Attila was a heathenistic, ruthless, powerful military leader driven by ego and a thirst for power who could foster multiple tribes of warriors to create vast armies. He and his merry men raped and pillaged most of Europe. Rome was his last big conquest. 

As powerful as he was, as many battles as he won, he died at the hands of women on his wedding night in 453 CE. His young, beautiful bride, Ildico, is his latest “want.” However, Attila didn’t know she was “getting it on” with Marcian, a rival Emperor to the East. Tell me it’s not true!

There was a plan afoot. The wedding celebration was a grand affair with lots of food and even more drink. The drinking that night was excessive. Attila “tied one on,” and in the process of being in a drunken stupor, it’s believed he was slipped a “Mickey Finn.” 

Of course, the term “Mickey Finn” wasn’t used until (1896-1903) when a bartender in Chicago by the name of Michael Finn was caught drugging and robbing his customers. But I digress. 

In reality, throughout history, it was a common practice to slip arsenic into a cup of wine and kill someone you didn’t want to continue to breathe your air.        

After the drunken wedding party, the palace guards were looking for Attila. The next morning, they burst into Attila’s bed chambers and found him dead in his bed. 

His new bride is weeping over his body. The guards looked for wounds, but there were none. (Hum?) After closer examination, they believed Attila had hemorrhaged through his nose and choked on his own blood.  

You can believe whatever you want, but the palace guards tried to hide the fact that Attila was dead. Now, why would they do that? There are other reports that Attila died of alcohol poisoning. 

Okay, we now have two different explanations for Attila's death. The only alcohol during that time was wine. It is also believed by some that his death was murder, and again, the guards attempted to cover that up, too. 

Because wine laced with arsenic was such a common way to kill people in the “Graeco-Roman period,” another custom arose. Important people had a wine taster. 

The wine taster would sample the wine; if it was safe, the important person could feel comfortable drinking the homemade wine. One can’t be too careful.

Can you imagine applying for a wine-tasting job? Read the fine print.    

Warriors from different tribes began to shake hands as we became more civilized. As two men look deep into their eyes, this gesture means I’m letting you know I don’t have a weapon. This silent gesture, as two men held arms or hands, assured the other, “I will not be sticking a knife in your belly.” I have nothing up my sleeve. 

Putting a shiv into someone without being seen was impossible, with so many people watching. And who wants to be caught murdering a competing warrior of another tribe in broad daylight? That could start a war. But in reality, they still want the SOB dead. So it’s back to the silent killer, arsenic.

Another custom began. As one Emperor offered another Emperor from a different tribe a cup of his homemade wine, the host Emperor took the guest's cup and poured a small amount of his wine into his guest’s cup. This gesture was to prove the wine was free of poison. 

Over time, the practice of extending good wishes along with a cup of wine became a tradition. The wine of that era was quite acidic (sour or sharp), so a small piece of seasoned bread was added to the cup to help reduce the acidity of the wine. This made the wine more enjoyable.

One of the first written accounts of it was in Shakespeare’s The Merry Wives of Windsor, when the character of Falstaff demands, 

“Go fetch me a quart of sack; put a toast in’t.” 

You see where I’m going with this, right? The word "toast," or “toasting,” takes on more meaning when we consider its origins. When we raise our glasses to toast good health, long life, or to celebrate, it is believed that this tradition relates to placing a piece of burnt toast in a cup or glass of wine. We hold our stemmed glasses in the air and clink them together to symbolically bring our glasses of wine together, reassuring each other that the drink is safe and not poisoned. 

As we approach the holiday season, a glass or two of wine may be raised in your home. Thanksgiving, Christmas, and New Year will be celebrated. “Toasts” will be offered. I want to add one of my favorite toast, which I learned from the Irish. 

"May those who love us love us, and for those who don't love us, may God turn their hearts, and if He can't turn their hearts, may He turn their ankles so we may know them by their limping."