Football dominates the television landscape today, and its biggest games fill up lists of the most watched broadcasts of all time. Yet in the classic era of TV, football steadily gained popularity while baseball remained the national pastime. Witness Herman the Rookie, a classic episode of The Munsters in which Herman Munster tries out for the Los Angeles Dodgers. By the end, Herman is playing football with Eddie, and he draws interest from the general manager of the Rams. The implication is baseball is the more prestigious sport, with football as the fallback option.

However, there are still plenty of classic TV episodes revolving around the college and pro versions of the gridiron game. Even though they are 50 or 60 years old, many still echo the way we interact with football today, while others exhibit some dramatic differences. Here is a spoiler-filled look at notable pigskin-themed programs:

The Lucy Show, Lucy Is a Referee: Lucy and Viv's youngsters lament the cancellation of their pending football game for lack of a referee. The game's winners earn tickets to a New York Giants game. Despite knowing nothing about the sport, Lucy volunteers to step in, and if you're surprised that it's a disaster, I welcome you to the world of classic television and suggest you watch some of these.

Lucy's heart may be in the right place, but her brain is nowhere to be found, and her imbecilic behavior ruins the kids' contest. The Lucy Show is a sitcom in which things happen because it's a sitcom. After the kickoff, Lucy stands in the middle of the small field, and we know she'll get creamed. We don't expect all the kids to ignore the ball and dive at her simultaneously like they're trying to take out her knees. Then again, maybe they think no referee at all is better.

A chagrined Lucy buys everyone tickets to the Giants game, but while they're waiting for friend Harry to arrive with the station wagon (Yeah, that should fit 25 kids and several adults), a blizzard closes access to New York. The whole gang has to watch the event on television. Here's a big difference between then and now: Today it would be no big deal to sit out a snowstorm and enjoy the action on the tube, but on a 19-inch screen, in black and white, without instant replay, it's not quite the same as being there.

It's still exciting enough to entertain the kids, and by the end of the day they're all tuckered out. The weather is still bad, so Lucy improvises and puts the sleeping youth all over the house. After finally finding herself a spot in the bathtub--care to guess what happens there?--she hustles downstairs to break up a wild pillow fight. As the boys yell and the feathers fly, we know that all that televised violence and brutality wound them up. Instead of football before bed, they should have watched something more soothing, like The Untouchables or Combat.

Lucy is a Referee is no classic, but it illustrates the rise of football as a televised spectacle. It also illustrates just how much we miss Ricky and Fred.

The Donna Reed Show, Football Uniform: This episode opens with a conversation between the parents about overindulging son Jeff. Alex declares they shouldn't buy the kid stuff anymore, but it just so happens Jeff's football team needs uniforms, so he's got to raise the dough himself.

How much do you think he needs? 22 bucks. I don't think you could get a catalog of football equipment sent to your house for 2 today. There isn't a lot of great game action in this episode, but it's fun watching everyone knocking themselves out to raise 2 for Jeff's duds. Come to think of it, I wouldn't be surprised if some pro team digs up this show and gets an idea for a 'throwback' uniform to wear this season...and sell in its own catalogs.

Leave It to Beaver, Beaver's Team: Uniforms also play a big role in the beginning of this program, but Ward Cleaver is willing to shell out for a helmet and sweatshirt so Beaver can quarterback a sandlot team in style. The main issue here is Wally's coaching of the 'Lightning 11.' He devises a gimmick play called 'The Old 98' and guarantees its success. It's a little pretentious to bestow a nickname on a fake run up the middle/quarterback keeper, but Wally is proud of his strategy.

However, Beaver blabs all about the trick to the younger sister of an opposing player, and by game time, they're ready to pounce whenever they hear '98.' The other team almost obliterates the Beav the first time. Then stubborn Coach Wally calls it again, with the same result. Watching this today, I can't help but wonder if Patriots coach Bill Belichick cultivates his players' sisters for years and sends them out as sleeper agents, hoping one day Peyton Manning gives away the game plan for an upcoming match-up.

Two things stand out about Beaver's Team: For one, Eddie Haskell, of all people, serves as the game's referee. If I were on the other team, I'd take my chances with Lucy Carmichael. Eddie decides Beaver's team gets to receive, and he even asks Wally if he should 'chisel' the other team a bit. At least when the NFL gets replacement referees, they try to be impartial.

Another alarming element is the casual joking about potential injury. Beaver tells Ward and June he'll be too self-conscious and embarrassed if they attend the game, and Wally agrees assuring them he'll be around if anyone needs to call an ambulance. It's an interesting comment considering his careless play calling gets Beaver squashed. Ah, the days when we could laugh about the possibility of our kids getting maimed playing football!

These days Ward and June would drive Beaver themselves to a community-sanctioned game at a professionally maintained venue with liability insurance, and they would have already signed waivers granting indemnity to the event organizers. A doctor would be on-site to yank Beaver from the game for tests the first time Old 98 blew up in his face.

Perry Mason, The Case of the 12th Wildcat: It begins with promise, introducing a blowhard pro team owner berating players and staff on the train home after a loss. Burt Payne is the kind of reckless, colorful head honcho we need in a modern football world dominated by anonymous suits with PR consultants on retainer. Sadly, soon after he calls his team 'milk-drinking pussycats,' a tragedy occurs, and Perry Mason defends Mrs. Payne when she is accused of murdering Burt.

Burt's quick exit takes some of the oomph out of an episode hinting at juicy stuff like gambling, organized crime, and 'scandal for the league.' Perry's final courtroom maneuver gets a rise from the spectators, but the scene feels a little phony. I lose a lot of respect for our protagonist when he tells Mrs. Payne, 'This isn't a football game. You lose this one, you lose for keeps.' How dare he imply football is anything less than a matter of life and death? Perry Mason is a brilliant attorney with an unsurpassed knowledge of criminal law, but he has a lot to learn about sports.

The Andy Griffith Show, Opie's Piano Lesson: The intended lesson here is a person can pursue several endeavors at once if they just organize, but the real lesson is Andy Taylor is kind of a stubborn grouch. Actually, I learned something else: Opie has mad gridiron skills! He's the captain and quarterback of the neighborhood squad. I don't even think NFL Films could make Opie look a star quarterback, but let's go with it.

Unfortunately, Opie begins a grueling regimen of after-school piano lessons just before Mayberry welcomes returning hero Flip Conroy, who wants to coach the kids after a stellar career with the New York Giants. On seeing the man, I had the same reaction as the team: 'Flip Conroy? WOW! The Flip Conroy?' Unlike the kids, I then thought, 'Uh...who's Flip Conroy?' Turns out he's not a real player, just a character played by Rockne Tarkington, who was surely cast by virtue of having one of the most football-ish names ever. If he didn't have such a distinguished career, I would assume he invented his name to get the role (a rare prominent African-American role in Mayberry, I might add). Who did he beat for the part, Heisman Unitas?

Football practice is--you guessed it--right after school. So Opie convinces a teammate to take his spot at the bench in order to trick Aunt Bee (hearing Opie trample instead of tickle the ivories, she flees to the neighbor's when it's practice time) so he can go to the football field. The kids don't anticipate the wild scenario of, oh, I don't know, Andy coming home, and Pa is furious when he uncovers the deception.

But is he miffed because of the chicanery or because he was against piano lessons in the first place? Earlier, when Aunt Bee suggests Opie learn piano, Andy says kids are too busy fishing, playing football, and fooling around, and he doesn't want to do what he knows he'll have to do: force him to practice the instrument. He's stunned when Opie wants to take lessons.

So he gives Opie an earful when he catches him ducking out on piano. Most revealing is his line, 'I knew I was gonna wind up forcing him to practice.' He just knew Opie didn't really want to learn piano. So he lectures him and insists he has to stick to the instrument because you can't do two things at the same time and do them well. I assume Andy is only serving as both Sheriff and Justice of the Peace until he finds a replacement for one of the jobs?

Conroy himself shows up Andy by coming over and displaying an impressive talent at the piano. A man can play football AND a musical instrument? Amazing! The episode ends with a grumpy Andy confronting the piano-playing Opie at 6:00 A.M. We then realize Andy wasn't too dumb to realize Opie could just shift one activity to a time that wouldn't conflict with football. No, he just never wanted his son to make all that racket until he was at work.

The Flintstones, Flintstone of Prinstone: Leave it to the modern Stone Age family to anticipate academic scandals in college football. Fred decides to make something of himself and re-enroll in school to get his accounting (!) degree. He washed out years earlier because of the strain of taking classes and playing football at the same time. Unfortunately, he is recruited by alum Mr. Slate to play for the team again, and ends up snoozing through class while trying to keep his play calls and his facts and figures straight.

Fred is past his prime and is drawn a fraction of the size of his teammates, but he's talented enough to make an impact. At the end, he even turns down (Well, Wilma does it for him) an offer to go pro. Personally I think being a professional QB is as admirable as being a pro CPA, but this episode indicates otherwise. One of the only things that dates it is the naive assumption that Fred has to 'attend class' while playing college football. That attitude didn't linger beyond prehistoric times, did it?

The production of Flintstone of Prinstone disappoints. Today we're accustomed to television programs and movies skimping on the budget by depicting football action in small settings instead of filming in front of real-life packed stadiums. But does a cartoon have to do that? Worse, the best plays and the hardest collisions happen off-camera, meaning we only see players sprawled out on the field after the good stuff happens. I wish Mr. Slate had kicked in a little of that booster money to improve the animation.

Speaking of Slate, attending the big game, he calls Barney Rubble an 'idiot' for cheering before it begins. Sheesh, what a grouch! It's a football game, not a golf tournament, Slate! I hope that later in the series, when he gets taller and loses his hair, he gains a sense of fan etiquette.

Father Knows Best, Football Tickets: I'll close with my own personal favorite. We don't see any actual football, but we see a series of circumstances that spiral out of control as patriarch Jim Anderson tries to see his 17th straight 'big game.' When I revisited the series a few years ago, Football Tickets was the one that hooked me, demonstrating that Father Knows Best is, in my opinion, the sharpest of the classic family sitcoms of its time. More importantly, the episode is a perfect encapsulation of our society's relationship with the sport today.

When Jim announces Margaret is not attending this year's game, the kids vie for her spot. Betty wins, and Bud grumbles about missing the game, but Jim reassures him he can enjoy the game at home...on the radio. OK, so maybe this episode isn't a perfect encapsulation of our society's relationship with the sport today.

But look at what everyone does for a shot at seeing the game. The kids try to curry favor with Jim. Later, a big client implies he'll buy a large insurance policy if he can have the other ticket. So Jim proves the one thing bigger than football is money, and he actually betrays his oldest child by awarding the guy the extra ticket!

Eventually Margaret tells him what a heel he's being, so Jim gives Betty HIS seat, and she takes it even though Dad is no longer going. As for Jim, he looks like he'd rather surrender a kidney. He desperately tries to bribe the whole family, promising to buy them stuff they've wanted if they let him go to the game. It's not Jim Anderson's finest moment, and neither is his behavior at the laundry service when he thinks he left the tickets in a dirty shirt. He roots through piles of clothes and all but accuses the laundry driver of stealing the tickets. Later, he's willing to visit college students with measles and mumps in their rooms to get their tickets.

I'd like to see Perry Mason tell Jim Anderson a football game isn't for keeps. His frantic quest would seem like a bundle of poor parenting, questionable business ethics, and unhealthy obsession, but I'll bet a lot of modern viewers will excuse his behavior because, well, it's the big game! 60 years later, the uniforms are a little more expensive and the game is a little more sophisticated, but we're still crazy about football.

Rick Brooks is the proprietor of Cultureshark, a blog in which he uses an often irreverent approach to express his reverence for the classics and the un-classics.