Review: “Goliath and the Gridiron” (or, This is Your Brain on Berries; Any Questions?)

In continuing its 40th-anniversary retrospective on DC Comics’ ultimate mini-series, the “Strange Sports Stories” collection in Brave and the Bold issues 45 through 49, BuckBokai today analyzes “Goliath of the Gridiron,” a sobering, moralistic tale of berry abuse in college football in the early 1970s.

In the best tradition of sportswriting-based purple prose, “Goliath of the Gridiron” opens with a bloody good (so to speak) description: “The shock of contact and the thud of body against body heralds the opening of the *Hartnell Aggies’* football season…”

Hartnell? As in William Hartnell? Well now, that’s an excellent way to reference sci-fi immediately – hooked already is BuckBokai. (Of course, this inside joke can only be enjoyed from the comfort of the 2010s, as Doctor Who wouldn’t hit American screens via PBS for another seven years or so after the publication of The Brave and the Bold #45. Ah, that Carmine Infantino was further ahead of his time than Nikolai Tesla.)

While the assembled masses at Hartnell Field enjoy The Big Games with all the élan of Rockwellesque America, one young man is disenchanted: our nerd hero, who is utterly disheartened at the way the quarterback gets the girl. Hartnell starting quarterback Hank Elder, you see, is that type who can break “loose” and go “streaking” downfield – and hell, you should seem him play when he’s not on Dock Ellis’ acid.

Muses our hero from the stands, “Sure Hank – be a big football hero for Betty Craks! *I* sure world – if *I* could.”

Poor Jim Spencer. Apparently not happy with his fate as a lifetime .250 hitter and two-time Gold Glove winner with five American League teams over 15 seasons, Spencer instead seeks solace in his botany.

Within a page of comic book, Spencer unburdens some angst via thought balloon and returns to his botany lab to find … a miracle! A “scrawny, sickly ground cherry plant” has benefitted from steroids “that new soil sample I used.”

Thinking quickly, Spencer deduces, “That’s *it!* I used the same steroids feeding formula as the other plants! This particular one grew so big and strong because of that soil I took from *Honeybear Gulch!* Hmmm – its berries would contain the same steroids chemicals which affected the plant…”

(Betty Craks? Honeybear Gulch? What’s up with Hartnell names, anyway? But ssssh, Jim’s still thinking.)

“In that case,” grind the mental gears, “those steroids chemicals might make the human body big and strong, too! I’ll eat some of the berries! Maybe they’ll do what nothing else can do for me!”

By the next morning, Spencer is so muscle-bound his parents don’t recognize him. How stunned are they? Says mom: “Oh my gracious!” Says dad: “I’m bewildered!”

Oh, and revelations upon revelations: It turns out that Jim’s dad’s the coach. And apparently there’s no problem in the DC Universe’s NCAA vis-à-vis inserting a new player onto the roster and into the starting lineup after the season has begun.

In his first game, Spencer runs back the opening kickoff, runs back an interception for a touchdown, runs in a point return, scores three more TDs and finally caps his scoring at 42 points with the game’s final tally 72-0. This, of course, begs the question of sportsmanship on the part of Coach Dad, but no matter: Check out the awesome Dark Knight Returns-esque panel above right that concludes page six of the story.

Now, back to the game.

Hartnell goes on to win the next one, 56-0, presumably resulting in a good verbal reaming in the locker room post-game from coach Spencer for not at least breaking 60. A crushing of Border Mines comes next, followed by angst on Jim’s part: “The effect of the steroids berries must be wearing off. My body is returning to normal – *weak* and scrawny! I’ve got to eat more of these steroids berries – if I’m to stay big and strong!”

But … tragedy! “The plant’s all withered up … dead! I’ve been so busy practicing football – I’ve neglected it! There’s only one thing to do – get more of that soil from *Honeybear Gulch!*”

Now go ahead and take a look at that panel again. How is it that all the other plants there are fine and green? C’mon, Jim was so “busy practicing football” that he forgot his drug berry supply? The lesson here: Berries also affect you mentally. (One wonders, too, what the effects of the miracle fruit might have on the Spencer family jewels – Betty Craks might be in for a disappointment, even if Jim is a football hero, eh?)

Naturally, however, the magic soil has washed away and Spencer tries to grow plants from the second layer. Nothing. He even eats a big plate of the remaining soil straight. Nah, BuckBokai made that up.

Instead, the entire universe seems to be on berries for subsequent panels, as the biggest failing among all the lovable idiosyncrasies of “Strange Sports Stories” is the sloppy and convenient belief that the physical aspect of sport can be made completely irrelevant – seriously, wait ‘til you see Brave and the Bold #46, featuring “The Hot-Shot Hoopsters.”

BuckBokai realizes that the editorial board of DC Comics has always consisted primarily of dudes on the wrong side of the Charles Atlas adverts, but come on, guys … Or is this what the talking heads mean when they discuss the “physical teams” of the NBA as though basketball is played in a virtual reality machine.

In this case, the fuzzy logic runs, “There may be a chance – if I can conserve my strength – that I needn’t give up football completely. It’ll mean being tricky – but it’s for a good cause.”

Sigh. Didn’t George Plimpton say something akin to “it is impossible to convey the speed at which things happen at the offensive line” in Paper Lion? Wasn’t normal brainy guy Plimpton dropped for a loss three consecutive times he got a turn at quarterback in an intrasquad exhibition?

Ah, reality: What a concept. The non-‘roided non-berried up Spencer still manages to return a punt return for a TD against Atlantic College. And for the Northern University game, despite the team have gone at least 6-0 to this point, Jim’s made starting QB – guess Dad-as-coach has some advantages, huh? Anyway, it’s an excellent move because “Passing doesn’t tire me out as much as running does.” Apparently neither does getting his scrawny ass sacked; Hartnell must have one hell of an offensive line.

Naturally, since Jim is the everyman (or rather, every comic book writerman), it’s not enough for him merely to dominate on the football field with his smarts: He’s a hero, too. And not the kind of wimpy-ass hero who invents a cure for cancer or something but one that does something when realizing “A little boy – skating right in the path of that car! And – the car’s out of control!”

Instantly diagnosed as having a broken ankle by a kindly doctor in the street (who incidentally does not offer to take him to a hospital or even phone an ambulance), Spencer finishes his walk to the field and substitutes in on the final play. You gotta give Coach Spencer props for going for the two-point conversion with the score 7-6 in favor of State with no time on the clock – especially when he sends in his own broken-ankled son to use as a decoy. Brilliant!

Being the ungrateful bitches that they are, the wounded Spencer goes uninvited to the victory celebration. Luckily, Betty Craks, invisible for nine consecutive pages, reappears just in time to console Jim on page 12.

The moral of the story? Winners don’t use drugs berries, of course!

Next time: A winning basketball team 10 times more ludicrous than the immortal Pittsburgh Pisces, but only about 1% as fun.

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