Bizarre Tales of Sports Glom From Jay Gruden and Betty Boop to Frisbee Dogs
Glom: an acronym for Give Leeches Our Merchandise. It is reserved for those who clamor for free stuff at press conferences and then (like leeches) demand a second free item.
I’ve collected some unusual memorabilia during a long career in sports communications. My office is home to some weird and quite frankly purposeless eclectic glom, but with time on my hands right now, I thought I’d explain the backstories behind the items, starting with collectibles (I use that term lightly) from the ill-fated United Football League.
Before we get to Betty Boop the fantasy cheerleader and frisbee-catching dogs replacing rappers Flo Rida and B.o.B. as halftime entertainment, let’s start with Jay Gruden being introduced as a head coach on the same day he was actually poised to leave the league.
Back in 2011, Jay and I were discussing talking points just moments before he was to be unveiled at a press conference as the new head coach of the Virginia Destroyers, a UFL expansion team. The UFL limped through four seasons while hemorrhaging money and I enjoyed (or endured) a two-year tenure as VP of Communications.
Just before he was introduced to the local media and excited fans, Jay confided in me that he was heading straight to the airport afterwards to meet with the Cincinnati Bengals and he hoped to become their new offensive coordinator. And that, of course, is exactly what happened. My item of glom from that debacle is a Virginia Destroyers game jersey bearing Jay’s name, which was never presented to the soon to be Bengals OC and later head coach, since it arrived at the press conference venue a short while after the coach had bolted for the airport. Jay never wore the shirt and he never coached the Destroyers. But the shirt made it into a box in my office, where it occupies pride of place hidden below some old soccer scarves.
Our philosophy at the UFL was very Barnum and Bailey: if you parade an elephant down the high street, people will follow and go along to the circus. Using that logic, we prioritized eye-catching halftime entertainment, hoping fans would actually stay for the second half of a football game wrapped around some famous names from the world of music and celebrity. Upcoming rappers Flo Rida and B.o.B. graced the field in Sacramento and Hartford, George Clinton landed his mothership in Omaha and even actor Denzel Washington paraded the sidelines occasionally. (Denzel refused point blank to help with our PR efforts by talking to the media about his son playing in the league, although he did mention it on Letterman, but that’s a whole other story.)
But such entertainers don’t come cheap, so for a league already keeping creditors at bay and promising phantom payments left, right and center, they were a one-season deal. By the next year, we learned that for a six-pack of Pedigree Chum and the promise of several chewy treats, frisbee-catching dogs could wow the crowds just as effectively and as a result the UFL produced its own line of team-branded flying discs. I have a full set in my glom collection. And those blue and green rectangular items: credit card sized USB sticks. I believe we ordered 10,000 of them.
Bouncing around the country as I did, flying coast to coast regularly to work with teams on their gameday PR operations, the bane of my existence was an 18x18-foot step and repeat cloth back drop that needed to be hauled inside its own suitcase from venue to venue. Eventually, frustrated at lugging the heavy case through airports (particularly Milwaukee, which seemed to be a mandatory stop whenever flying with Frontier Airlines), I mailed it to my next destination each time, in advance of traveling.
Following the demise of the UFL, the backdrop found its true purpose, as a car cover to fend off inclement winter weather here in the northeast. It is now in the glom graveyard, the victim of an oil spill in the garage one spring, damaged beyond museum quality and now buried somewhere within a Massachusetts landfill. RIP Mr Step & Repeat.
The majority of football teams have cheerleaders. The UFL had Betty Boop. Someone managed to convince someone else in the league office that a cartoon character popular in the 1930s would wow today’s audience the league over. Despite misgivings in some quarters (me, several colleagues), UFL marketing dollars were thrown at a Betty Boop fantasy cheerleader venture, specifically targeting female fans, which included a cheerleader costume to be rolled out at one game per week. I think the message was that we boys had the tough guys on the field to watch and the girls could enjoy Betty Boop.
I helped to organize the unveiling of new league uniforms in 2011, which included the debut of the Betty Boop fantasy cheerleader. On a runway in a shopping mall in Las Vegas, naturally, players including former NFL stars Daunte Culpepper and Ahman Green were paraded in the new-look jerseys. Lucky Las Vegas locals could pop into the Dollar Store one minute and then watch a UFL fashion parade the next.
The flaw in the Betty Boop outfit was that the wearer — who had to be exactly five feet six tall and have a certain shoe size in order to fit the costume — couldn’t see a thing from inside. The poor young lady whose size made her the perfect model, had to be led around by hand by a fellow Las Vegas Locos cheerleader, while in constant fear of falling and injuring herself.
Now, I have no idea what became of fantasy Betty, but I do wonder if somewhere out there is someone with a vintage cosplay fetish tripping over themselves and risking an embarrassing injury while encased in the most bizarre cheerleader costume in history. Surely that Betty Boop costume is the ultimate item of UFL glom… and it’s missing from my collection.
