HE HAD JUST finished his 40-yard dash, when Earl Kauffman sat down, still puffing. "Been awhile since I did that," he said.
Soon to follow were agility drills and vertical leaps. A few hours of standing around, trying to stay loose, and a few minutes of working out. Saturday was tryout day for the Utah Catzz of the Professional Indoor Football League. They came from Utah and surrounding states, parking their aging Escorts and minivans in the parking lot of the Utah Indoor Soccer center, hoping for a shot at pro football. Not NFL football, of course, but football nonetheless. Check your college newspaper clips at the door.Kauffman, the former BYU kicker, now has a regular, responsible adult job. By most indications, he's a card-carrying, mainstream guy: wife, kids, mortgage. Works for the State Division of Youth Corrections and watches TV football when he can squeeze it in. But even though it's been six years since he last played a college game, he hasn't forgotten the feeling of competition.
Kauffman isn't alone with his ambition. About 50 players tried out for the Catzz, most of them former local college players. A couple of weeks ago 100 others attended another open tryout. Some are barely removed from college. Others are far enough removed that they look as though they came directly from a PTA meeting.
"Most of us started preparing for this two weeks ago," said Kauffman. "You're sitting in front of the TV and you say, `I can still do that.' "
The PIFL, if it does lift off as planned next April, is a sack-lunch league if there ever was one. But you have to allow bonus points for imagination. The league will feature padded "dasher boards" along the sidelines - all the better to cross-check an opposing wideout. The field will be 50 yards long, which means the possibility of a touchdown pass from any field position. Every play is a Hail Mary. There's no such thing as out of bounds, just out of breath.
And if you buy a ticket to watch, make sure to pay attention. You may be catching a pass.
It's eight-man football, with a nose guard, two linemen, a pair of outside linebackers and three defensive backs on the defense. The offense will have a center, two linemen, a quarterback, running back, tight end, wide receiver and slotback. It will resemble your ordinary Saturday morning pickup football game, except with speed. Teams will routinely score over 50 points, and even reach the 90s.
"It's an aerial game," said Catzz owner Michael Curran.
Think BYU football on Jolt.
To date, the PIFL remains mostly ambition. All the team locations aren't even set. The league is supposed to run April-August, with games on Saturdays. Players will earn $200 per game and all the sports drinks they can absorb. If the league makes money, players could get a few dollars more per game in profit sharing. Providing the checks clear the bank.
The PIFL is selling itself as the grassroots level of pro football. Nobody's there for the money - unless, of course, you're working for $6.25 an hour to begin with. All players are on one-year-and-an-option contracts. They're there to play, and perhaps be discovered. PIFL officials hope to make it the official minor league of the NFL.
Thus, Kauffman arrived Saturday morning at 8, ready to go. "I saw this in the paper and said what the heck," he said.
Kauffman spent 1988-91 playing for BYU. ("The Detmer years. That's how people remember me.") After college he tried out with the 49ers and Dolphins, to no avail. Lukewarm tryouts in the Canadian Football League also squelched his hopes. As the children came along and his job took hold, he drifted farther away from football. But early last spring he decided he needed competition again, so he booked himself into a kickers' camp in Sparks, Nev. He performed well enough that when he saw the ad in the papers for Catzz tryouts, he was hooked. He had come down with a case of what he refers to as the "Al Bundy Syndrome." His glory days were getting more glorious by the moment.
As Kauffman and others went through their drills, former Dallas Cowboy Manny Hendrix, and ex-Utah running back Eddie Johnson watched from the sidelines in amusement. Neither would venture to try out. "I'm too old," they both said.
Still, they there they were, checking it out. The game gets in your blood. "I look at guys making $8 million or $10 million a year and wonder," said Kauffman. "I say give me lunch money and I'll play."
Indeed, that's about all he'll be getting if he makes the team. But as the man said, what the heck. There's no time like the present to find out if you still have a few games left.