When blood and brutality become art------

Ali in his heyday was the near perfect marriage between violence and art. His skills made the blood caused by his punches seem necessary and natural, the perfect result of almost unseen blows. His matches were beautiful. It was as if the eventual collapses of his opponents were choreographed by Balanchine. It made us feel that we were watching something above boxing.

I felt that way again yesterday watching the Baltimore Indianapolis Colts score 35 points during 30 minutes making it appear that the most violent game on earth was actually gentle; that the hits on receivers were carefully composed film edits, graceful, and almost delicate. The brain quaking tackles and train wreck collisions between blocking linemen and linebackers were hidden by the magical faking mastery of Manning and the acrobatic catches of his receivers; Manning could have been posing for holy pictures as he dropped back to pass. His offensive line protected him that well. They made it look like it was against the rules to tackle him; it was as if there were no danger at all; just the artist, his canvass, and his football.

It won't be like that next week against New England. At least I don't think it will be like that but one never knows what Modigliani will think of next.