Continuously serving Kosciusko County since 1854
Kids today will think of soft, safe artillery when you ask them about NERF, Non-Expanding Recreational Foam. The reloadable artillery darts, a safe and wholesome way for kids to assault each other, are currently the highest volume revenue source for NERF’s parent company, Hasbro.
NERF’s darts/bullets modest origins took the form of a small ball marketed in commercials during Monkees reruns (they were music video artists before there was an MTV) in the 1969–1970-time frame. I still remember the small ball the boy/man band threw about their sound studio resembling a living room, and the ads extolling their safety.
“Throw it indoors; you can't damage lamps or break windows. You can't hurt babies or old people,” was one of the original praises of the product.
It evolved into to NERFOOP (an entire column of its own), and then into the NERF football. The foamy indoor version of the pigskin was developed with the assistance of Minnesota Vikings’ placekicker Fred Cox, and it quickly became the biggest seller in the NERF product line.
The NERF ball was marketed as something small kids could grip firmly, use its small diameter to execute perfect spirals just like NFL quarterbacks could throw (except for Billy Kilmer at the time), and even play football indoors without knocking over things.
Well… maybe big, sturdy things. I’ve knocked over box fans, table lamps, vases, and photographs with the NERF football.
My memories of such indoor football follies temporarily took a backseat to better NERF football memories when I saw a segment of NFL Films discussing the product, and furthermore, it included commentary from NFL greats.
Jerry Rice, Cris Collinsworth, Tony Gonzales, Barry Sanders, and Deion Sanders started out the seven-minute YouTube excerpt from NFL Films.
Each of them extoled its ease of handling, and in some cases, stated it was their favorite toy. This rang true among many folks like me, who are not among the NFL alumni; who’s last organized football game was unceremoniously played on a high school field.
So why wasn’t the NERF football the main character in the Toy Story movie franchise… NERF-y? Why was it, instead, a pull-string talking cowboy who’s in-story cartoon shows looked already too old-fashioned for young Andy?
Was it restricted by original mid-nineties computer graphic arts limitations? It was probably harder to get humanized reactions from an elliptical foam ball (and most of them were monochromatic to boot)… might have even been creepy looking, like when they put moving eyes and a mouth on a stop-motion lemon (McDonald’s).
My grieving period for my accidentally weather-damaged NERF football far exceeded the time spent grieving for GI Joe… with the Kung-Fu grip (also left outdoors, but found a new forever home), and multi-sport athlete, Big Jim (loss of left arm, but useful in more macabre types of play *evil laugh*).
My NERF football, nay, dare I say… *sniffle* NERF-y? Well, NERF-y’s demise was slow, painful, and abruptly met when a sandlot playmate said to me, “We’re not using your ball. It’s missing big chunks, and it sucks.”
Kids, “sucks” was a bad word in the 1970s. Its usage was a last resort when previous attempts of subtlety were lost on the message’s receiver. No one even said it on television.
My weather-damaged NERF-y brought a spark of hope to my heart when it dried, but it dried outdoors in the dead of winter. My parents did not want that mother described, “a stinky flying sponge that’s done enough (expletive) damage in this house!”NERF-y dried up and crumbled with each passing day I tried to recreate NFL Films highlight reels against invisible defenders, and it crumbled to a slow, grit-and-grime-filled death, but I brought it to any sandlot action I sought.
I took it home the day I was told, “It sucks.”
Thereafter I briefly gave it a few more stints strictly for rushing reenactments until my mother exclaimed, “What is this fuzz... dirt… whatever it is all over your sleeve? Did you climb in Derhammer’s hall in the woods? It probably has rats?”
My mother was relieved I wasn’t in Derhammer’s hall in the woods, and she punctuated the one-way discussion with the direct order, “Put that thing in the garbage now.”
That thing. Just put a dagger in a twelve ½-year old’s heart. It had a name. NERF-y!
To each of you who had to part with your… *sniffle* your NERF-y… for whatever reason, condoglianze sentitissime.
