Bill Belichick would be a smaller than life figure in a little hoody.

Imagine a miniature Jerry Jones hovering at his coach's shoulder in case he really does need to call a play.

And the tiny wide receivers would be equipped to shake their hips, autograph footballs and celebrate touchdowns to the fullest, as long as they didn't shimmy right off the board.

Other than those relatively minor adjustments, I wouldn't change one piece of the electric football game I used 40 years ago. Really. Hey, I like seeing offensive linemen lock arms and circle round-and-round, a square dance in shoulder pads. It's a plastic, old-school version of "Dancing with the Stars."

Electric football jumped to mind recently because it's Super Bowl week. Inevitably, at least one video game maker decides to hold its own championship game and then shout to the world that it's "predicted" the outcome. ESPN eventually runs a replay of this simulated Super Bowl during SportsCenter. A phony Giants-Patriots game shouldn't qualify as news. Then again, ESPN thinks Hank Goldberg is worth watching, so the bar is set relatively low.

EA Sports, in a press release, announced recently that the Patriots beat the Giants, 38-30, on its Madden NFL 08 video game. That's fine; I'm sure a lot of football fans are holding their own early Super Bowls in the friendly confines of their homes.

As for me, I'm not interested. I don't want to know what's going to happen. I'd rather see the real Tom Brady throw passes to a genuine Randy Moss while staring right at the honest-to-goodness gap in Michael Strahan's teeth. Now that's entertainment.

While pondering all the simulations and prophecies, it dawned on me. If all the video games suddenly disappeared, electric football would be the sole survivor. And anyone who tried to predict the outcome of a Super Bowl based on the game I played in the mid-1960s would be sorely disappointed and confused, much like a Vikings fan during Super Bowl week.

By today's high-tech standards, the electric football game I knew was very, very primitive. One team wore gold; the other white. That's it. No numbers, no logos. Every player was mounted on a base equipped with prongs.

Equipped with a motor of sorts, only the game board could truly be called electric. It vibrated, and the prongs picked up the vibrations. That's what made the players move.

That's what I saw under the tree during a Christmas many years ago. Excited, I drafted my older sister as an assistant and we began setting up my electric football game. I could see it happening. I'd be a younger Lombardi without the glasses, hat and voice that could shatter a helmet at 40 paces. My players would weave intricate, precisely-executed patterns on the way to the end zone. My defense would be a stone wall. Well, plastic wall, actually, but that was a minor detail.

That was my vision. Then 20-20 reality arrived.

The players didn't follow the footsteps of Gale Sayers or Paul Hornung. A running backs few spun around in an eternal circle, as if looking for a hole that would never develop. Some of the guys staggered and weaved downfield. Perhaps they had consumed a few too many mini-adult beverages. And the quarterback couldn't throw the football, which was made of felt. Even the 2007 Miami Dolphins wouldn't have signed that guy in the real world.

Nonetheless, I did what an actual coach would do. I adjusted. Out the window went the split backfield and the 4-3 defense. In came a miniature version of the flying wedge, where I bunched all the blockers who could travel in a straight line in front of my only good running back. I scored a lot of touchdowns. I also never became a football coach in my adult life. I wonder why?

So I learned nothing from electric football that could tell me about real NFL games. A few lessons, though, could be drawn from the board. Reading the instructions BEFORE putting things together might be a good idea, for instance. And when all else fails, blame your sister.

Amazingly, electric football is still alive and well in the 21st century. The 14th annual Electric Football World Championships and Convention was held this winter in Michigan. On the boards themselves, the players look much better. They're more adjustable now.

Who knows? Maybe I'll buy a new electric football game someday. And I'll add a tiny coach in a hoody to the active roster.

Bill Belichick spinning round-and-round for hours? Now, that's entertainment.

Contact Jim Sulivan at (319) 291-1434 or jim.sullivan@wcfcourier.com