Alvin sat at the edge of a makeshift football field, holding a bottle of whiskey. He clinked it against the bottles held by several fully armored referees.
Watching the referees, who were dressed even more "protectively" than the players, wedge their bottles through the gaps in their helmets and take long gulps...
Alvin grinned. "Guys, you're professionals. We can't let these aliens make a joke of us.
"You have to establish your authority in the very first game and make them understand that football isn't a violent sport. It's a contest of brains and brawn."
A middle-aged referee looked at Alvin through his helmet. "Mr. Battleaxe, if things get out of hand, you'll keep them under control, right?
"I just paid off my mortgage this year, and I got married in February.
"It'd be pretty stupid to get killed because I threw a penalty flag!"
Alvin pulled along a Dr. Banner who looked a little out of his depth. Looking at the frightened referees, he grinned. "Relax. With Dr. Banner here, those guys definitely won't dare to act up.
"If I see any danger, I'll call off the game and send Dr. Banner in to pound them into meat patties."
The referees looked at the kind-faced, gray-haired Dr. Banner. They exchanged glances, then looked nervously at Alvin. "Could you call our insurance companies and raise our coverage limits?
"We've never refereed a game between demons and gods in our lives...
"Actually, we could stay in front of the broadcast cameras and let Dr. Banner officiate. We can provide support from the sidelines."
Alvin looked at the cowardly referees in disdain. "Guys, you have to at least give it a try.
"Otherwise, those aliens will laugh at us.
"This game is being broadcast on television, so you have to uphold Earth's