As in a regular football broadcast, tiny wink lights flash on and off in the lower left-hand corner of the screen, indicating both the amount of playing time elapsed and the amount remaining. The realistic quality of the presentation is enough to satisfy any but the most puristic of fans. Granted, the background frequently grows hazy and indistinct, but the startlingly accurate renditions of each of the players more than compensate for it.

At two hours into the first quarter, the Minutemen get the game’s first tally.

Early on in the second quarter, the Minutemen score again. Late in that same quarter, Harland Minick is mortally wounded on a short run off center. Shortly thereafter, the Minutemen take possession of the ball, and score again, although not without casualties. Two of their players are red-crossed on the drive to the goal.

The scene shifts forward to the third quarter. Cartoon figures of Harv Matision and T.K. Mann interlock in an epic struggle.

T.K. has the ball, Matision has him down on the ground, is on top of him and within a hair of plunging a knife into his throat.

T.K. has the knife immobilized with one hand while he tries to gain a choke hold with the other. Suddenly, Matision jerks free. His arm plunges downward. He doesn’t get a clean hit, his knife only grazes T.K.’s neck. At the drawing of blood, the referee blows the play dead. T.K. is red-crossed for the remainder of the quarter.

T.K. returns to action at the beginning of the fourth quarter, but in the meantime, the Minutemen have scored again. The two clubs trade the ball back and forth for several hours. Then, with less than thirty minutes left to play, comes the game’s blockbuster.

T.K. Mann has the ball. He’s all alone, within two blocks of the goalyard, and desperately trying to win the Prospectors their first score of the game, when he’s collared by Harv Matision. Matision disdains the use of his bola, which would render Mann totally immobile and end the play immediately. Instead, he presses a long knife assault, an action which derives from his penchant for ending a play only by leaving the ball carrier unconscious, bleeding or dead.

In the struggle between them, T.K. does his best to fend off and neutralize his youthful adversary. T.K. makes too many mistakes, misses too many sure openings, gives Matision too many more in return. Finally, with sixteen minutes left in the game, Matision connects with a perfect straight-in thrust to the base of T.K.’s helmet.

T.K. staggers backwards, yanks his helmet from off of his head, and topples over onto his side, dead, the gold thirteen on the back of his jersey mottled red with his blood.