December 27, 1992. The final week of the regular season. The Eagles hosted division rivals the New York Giants and were looking for a win to increase their playoff seeding. They were down 16-10 and needed to score a touchdown on the game's final play to win. The Eagles were pinned down on their own 24 yard yard line. The Giants expected some trickery, a Statue of Liberty play, a series of laterals, in a last-ditch, desperate attempt to score. No one could have possibly imagined how long this play would take. That, extraordinarily, it still transpires to this day.
Eagles quarterback Randall Cunningham snapped the ball with fifteen seconds on the clock. The Giants knew that Cunningham was the most dangerous player on the field, by far. They sent their defensive backfield back into prevent coverage against the pass, but everyone kept their eyes on Cunningham.
After deciding against a Hail Mary throw, Cunningham broke the line of scrimmage, attempting a run, which everyone had expected. What they didn't expect is that, once Cunningham was approached, that instead of pitching the ball to another teammate, he would keep the ball himself, running backwards, coming close to being caught, but never being tackled. This pattern would continue into the night. The game clock had expired, but until Cunningham was tackled, the game wouldn't end.
He has remained on the field for nearly 19 years. Fans, initially enthralled by the masterful evasion Cunningham displayed, stayed in their seats for days, some for weeks. Now the stadium seats are a shanty-town, with filthy, drunk, bearded fans waiting for the outcome, so that the 1992 season could conclude. Cunningham has dug himself a foxhole with one of his cleats, and subsisted from food and bottles of Gatorade thrown from the stands. He has advanced as far as the Giant's 16 yard line and retreated as far back as the Eagles' own two. Every time a Giants defender has come within a couple yards of him, Cunningham has darted away, sprinting down the sideline, or, on a few occasions, leaped over the defender. The Giants have massed six players near their own goal line, where they have stayed, in a demilitarized zone of sorts, making a touchdown nearly impossible. The Eagles have roamed the field, making the occasional block. Six players, three from both sides, have been injured on the seemingly inifnite play. Eagles running back Herschel Walker appeared to have broken his leg in 1996. Unable to leave the field, he succumbed to what was probably an infection and died. His body then decomposed on the field. The field itself has been dug up by hand by the players and is covered with earthen turrets, mud huts and garbage. Flies, crows and rats are everywhere.
Cunningham sleeps standing up, with his eyes open. No Giants player has touched him. His uniform is soiled and fetid and, like all other players on the field, he sports a massive beard. No one can fathom why he would prolong the outcome of a regular season game, when his team has already qualified for the playoffs. Eagles coach Rich Kotite repeatedly tried to signal to Cunningham to kneel down and end the game, but Cunningham has never looked over. Reached near the sideline, Giants linebacker Gary Reasons has told reporters that he wishes the game would end, so that he could hug his children, or have sex with a woman. The Giants, he said, have resorted to male pair-bonding. Players from both sides have been seen holding hands and kissing. Public outcry was intense when this initially developed, but since, fans have accepted the logic of it all.
America, without football, is in the grips of a national tragedy. Many fans turned to other sports to watch, but found them boring. Without the presence of the mass spectacle and its attendant commercialism and onslaught of sexist beer commercials, a peaceful, egalitarian society has formed, where there is no poverty or material need. Many believe that this may have extinguished enthusiasm for the playoffs or the next season, should they ever occur.
