I recently toured the ancient Mayan ruins at Chichen Itza in Mexico's Yucatan Peninsula. After walking the sacred grounds which the Maya established 1500 years ago, most people feel a deep spiritual transformation. Me, I came away thrilled that I wasn't good enough to make their ball club.

Today, the Maya of Mexico are a friendly, peace-loving, docile people. Sweet is an apt description of these squat, copper-toned Indians. But back in 500 AD, their ancestors were quite the brutal and blood-thirsty bunch.

At Chichen Itza, they've discover secret cinotes or deep natural wells where 13-year-old girls, weighted down with heavy jewelry, were once sacrificed to the gods. And when the Mayan king died, his man-servant had to die as well in order to take care of him in the next life.

The Chichen Itza ball court consisted of a long and grassy field, walled along the sides with a temple at one end, a grandstand for the elite at the other. Hordes of spectators lined the court as the captain stood on an elevated knoll under a stone ring very high up the wall and attempted to knock a three-kilogram hard rubber ball through the ring using only a knee, a hip or an elbow. His six teammates used bats on the field to gain possession of the ball from their six opponents then fired it at the captain who would redirect it for the score.

If he hit the ring, he scored a point but when he miraculously powered the ball clean through the hole in the ring, a tremendously difficult feat, the game ended immediately and triumphantly.

Then, in the mother of all award ceremonies, for leading his team to victory, the captain was immediately decapitated by the sword of the losing captain.

With the exception of Toronto Maple Leaf fans, who will go Stanley Cup-less for this, the 37 th consecutive year, I don't know of anybody who would root for this kind of victory celebration.

No doubt, Don Cherry would like to see human decapitation in professional hockey, but I'm sure he'd insist on a five-minute major to go with it.

The winning captain's head was then impaled on a sharp stick and planted in a nearby garden where the dripping blood provided the enrichment for new life to spring forth from the soil.

I think killing your captain is a very bad idea and I couldn't help but feel sorry for Enrique of the Chichen Itza Eagles.

"Enrique, this is the luckiest day of your life."

"How's that, coach?"

"The King just named you captain for today's game against the Toltec Serpents."

"You know coach, I'm flattered, I really am but I'm not what you call a born leader. Now you take Chuchalub over there, he's the guy the boys would follow into a cinote full of crocodiles."

"Boy, I'll tell you, Enrique, that shot you made in practice yesterday, that was to die for!"

"Sure, I'm great in practice but let's face it, coach, I'm a game day dud. Boy that Chuchalub, he's got an elbow like the great Gordonis Howe."

"Well today's the biggest game of your life, Enrique, and as you know, Xavier, the captain of the Toltec Serpents is out for blood."

"But what happened to Kukula, our previous captain?"

"He ended his career on a high note, Enrique. Won his last game. Now he just putts around in the garden."

"I don't know coach, I'm a lot more comfortable on defense."

"Nonsense Enrique, all you have to do is go out there and play like there's no tomorrow."

"Ah, I don't know, the thrill of victory just doesn't do it for my anymore."

"No, Enrique, you're the guy. Without your leadership, the Eagles look like a bunch of Chichens running around with their heads .. their heads .. their heads up their cavities. Besides, you get to wear the big "C," you get to do the coin toss and if you're lucky, you get to catch the half-time show."

"Reach for the brass ring?"

"No, sorry Enrique, we're Mayas not Jacksons."

"Maybe I'll talk it over with my family."

"It's a done deal, Captain Enrique. Say, would you save me a trip and leave this new sword in Xavier's locker. By the way, your daughter Regina? What's she about 13 years old now?"

"Actually, she's much older, just short for her age."

"Bring her to the game. There's a party at the cinote afterwards."

"What's that?"

"A fifty-pound necklace for your little princess. Pure jade. She'll love it."

"Anything else?"

"Yeah, for being such a good sport Enrique, the King is going to make your father his new man-servant."

"Oh, no."

"Oh yeah. Easy job. Between you and me, the King is on his last legs."

"Well, thanks for dropping by, coach."

"One more thing."

"What's that?"

"In the coin toss? Don't take heads."

William J. Thomas lives on Sunset Bay in Wainfleet, Ont., with his unfaithful dog, Jake. He is the author of seven books of humour, including The Dog Rules Damn Near Everything (Damn Near Everything!) . For an autographed copy click Here!