In reference to the football picture of myself I posted the other day, someone asked what position I played. It reminded me of something that happened that season. It was pee-wee ball or whatever you called it before you could play in junior high, and during the game, I was in my usual spot, the sideline. The coach calls me over and tells me to go in and play tackle. I was excited at the opportunity to get on the field and ran out there for the next play, but I didn’t know where the tackle was supposed to line up. I tried to find the position before the snap and the coach was yelling at me, which only made it more stressful and confusing for me. He ended up calling a timeout and yelling at me for not knowing any positions in football. I wasn’t so much upset as myself as I was for feeling like I embarrassed my mom, dad, and brother in the crowd. The moment I got home I opened up an encyclopedia and memorized all football positions.
My brother was a great football player, and when it came time for me to play in pee wee, I was one of the first drafted because of his reputation. I was not a great football player or athlete. I always felt bad being drafted so high and not meeting the expectations of my coaches.
That story above reminds me of another ignorant sports moment. It was my first junior high basketball game and I was in my usual spot, the bench, four spots down from the coach. He calls me over and tells me to go in for someone, and again, being excited at the opportunity to just play, I ran onto the court after a basket was made and didn’t check in at the scorer’s table. In little dribblers, you didn’t have to check in, the rules were lax and kids were switching in and out all the time during play. Again, I wasn’t so embarrassed or mad at myself, I was just worried I embarrassed my father. He never did anything to make me feel that way, but he was so proud of my brother’s athletic accomplishments I just felt I let him down.
I think it was Billy Madison that also had daddy issues.
The football fields we played on were unlevel, full of weeds and stickers, and the dirt was hard like a rock with holes and cracks all around. Looking back at it, it was an awesome experience. Ah, the Optimus Field, how I miss thee.
I really like Tony Romo. I really want him and Jason Witten to win a Super Bowl together. But all feelings aside, Nate Silver would give a 98% probability saying Romo will not make it through the season injury-free. That means, like it or not, for better or worst, the Dak Prescott era will begin this season.
But let’s just try to find a silver lining and say Romo’s injury scare was nothing more than a wake-up call for him and that makes him really excel this year.
Seattle is just bad luck for Romo.
Just an observation, but I think 90% of political bumper stickers are “against” something and not “for” something.
Our bedtime reading is The Mouse and the Motorcycleby the great Beverly Cleary. It’s one of the few stories in with a person named Keith is actually viewed in a positive light. In last night’s reading, Ralph S. Mouse talks about his uncle who got trapped in a waste basket and was assumed to have been thrown in the incinerator with the rest of the trash. Obviously, unmistakably, this was Beverly Clearly using a Christian witness metaphor of not living for Christ and wasting one’s life on the trash of “the world” and burning in Hell. No doubt about that, I can’t believe I didn’t pick up on this when I first read it. (written in sarcastica)