As might be expected when a controversial United States Senator lets leak the tantalizing promise that at 9 A.M. Wednesday morning he will present the Attorney General with conclusive proof that the de facto national sport is homicidally rigged, by 8:50 A.M., the Attorney General’s outer office is packed with newsmen. Crammed in shoulder to shoulder, they jostle amongst themselves, vying for a position along that route from entry portal to office door, the path Senator Abelman will tread, perhaps spewing quotes in his wake. Most of the newsmen carry fist sized press cameras. A few are outfitted for full TV transmission. All have transcription packs and directional mikes.

At Senator Abelman’s request, a precious few of their number have been allowed inside the Attorney General’s office itself under the stipulation their coverage be made equally available to all waiting outside.

The Attorney General, C. Clayton Wilkes, a shrewd politician and a frontrunner for his party’s nomination in the next presidential election, has consented to conduct his meeting with Senator Abelman in such a circus-like atmosphere primarily to be assured of forefront portrayal in the wide press exposure Abelman’s sensational charges are certain to draw.

At promptly 9 A.M., shoving a curtain of “No comments at this time” in front of him, Senator Abelman pushes his way into the Attorney General’s office.

Assured by his aide that the pool pressmen are all in place, the Attorney General nods to Senator Abelman. “Cy,” he says, “it’s your show.”

Senator Abelman, no slouch himself when it comes to courting the press, faces the cameras rather than the Attorney General. “Mr. Wilkes,” he intones in his most sepulchral tones, “it is my unpleasant duty to inform you that each and every street football game played in this country thus far this year has been blatantly rigged through the unscrupulous efforts of high officials of the International Broadcasting Company.”

His statement, while certainly coming as no surprise in light of his earlier intimations, still evokes shufflings of astonishment from the assemblage of newsmen. After skillfully letting the shifting play itself out, Abelman goes on. “There exists one player on every SFL team with a micro-receiver surgically implanted behind his ear. This player is, in each case, fed pertinent game information from the television control room, thus permitting him to accomplish greatly enhanced feats of football legerdemain.”

He pauses for added emphasis, his head drooped, his hands lifeless at his sides. “At least one player, possibly more, has been brutally murdered as a direct result of this onerous IBC intervention.”

By this time, the Attorney General, like everyone else in the room, hangs on Abelman’s every word. When it becomes clear that Abelman is finished speaking, slowly, deliberately, the Attorney General interjects the obvious question. “Those are serious charges, Cy. I trust you have something concrete to back them up.”