- Local Colorado news that only I probably care about: my alma mater Columbine beat rival Chatfield. Columbine alumni celebrated while Chatfield alumni went to high school parties wearing their letterman jackets talking about how funny that, “new Austin Powers was with the mini me guy”. Go home Tim Riggins, you’re a twenty seven year old Sophomore.
- October 17, 2014 will be a day I will forever remember as the day my family had its heart ripped out. The fury and disbelief from the “34-31 win” Notre Dame had over Florida State has subsided finally. My Dad, me, and youngest brother were collectively jumping for joy and hugging each other only to have our family torn apart by the “ref”.
- Prostar client and All-Pro Punter for the St. Louis Rams Johnny Hekker is up for the Never Say Die award for his fourth down conversion against the Seahawks. That special teams coordinator deserves a kudos bar for his coaching that game, if you missed it check out that awesome return.
- Another Prostar client, Perennial Pro-Bowler and possibly Frankenstein’s monster, Cameron Wake made huge plays for the Dolphins in their win against the Chicago Bears.
Football, it is the steak and potatoes on the dinner table of sports. Much like a finely cooked steak and hand-mashed home-made potatoes, it can truly bring the family together through sheer hatred of all things vegetable and hard to pronounce. Like most Walter Kronkite loving Americans, I have lived a life of football, from the earliest memories I was ramming a fake Broncos helmet into my father’s loins to separate the man from the ball. Watching Peyton Manning throw a bushel of touchdowns and breaking a record against the 49ers reminded me of a precious memory of me and my Dad attending the final game at the old Mile High Stadium. The 49ers came to town, Jeff Garcia was quarterback and Terrell Owens was not yet prone to taking his lovers for half of everything they own. Denver Broncos Linebacker Bill Romanowski was my favorite football player, which explains a ton looking back in retrospect. This was the first time I heckled anyone. I’ll leave much of it to the imagination, but for whatever reason back in the day when a kid would scream terrible homophobic things at opposing players people would find it, “adorable”. I was seven, this is important merely for the nature of how horrible my mouth was as a child. I can blame my uncles along with a gross amount of South Park I watched, but I’m probably just 83% evil, 12% spice, and 5% zig-a-zig-ah. Playing football was a privilege, some of my best and strangest memories stem from playing the game. I remember one incident in which two opposing teams of parents engaged in a light hearted banter I call multiple stabbings in the parking lot waiting to happen. All of this was over a little league football game. I remember one of the parents remarking, “you don’t want to mess with me, I’m a cop,” which I’m sure the irony was lost on him. We were eight years old. That same year I was kicked out of a game for being too aggressive. I tackled a kid and caused a fumble. Didn’t do anything illegal, a play later I was back in the game after crying uncontrollably. The opposing coach grew to strongly dislike me over the years, as a nine year old he called out for his players to, “break 22’s legs”. Karate Kid has taught us nothing about terrible advice in competition. I’m remarkably dumb when it comes to simple math but I can figure out my jersey number. Small bit of digression, often times I find myself screwing up the tip addition on a receipt. I really am terrible at math, it’s actually quite laughable at how hard I have to work at it. I am remarkably frustrating to see doing math. Typically I’m leaving restaurants with my head covered in one hand while the other pounds my head like it’s trying to knock some sense into it. All the while my conscience plays the berating musical tune of,
“Enjoy working at Mcdonalds like your teacher used to say you would, even though it’s an honorable profession as you’ve found out. You can’t even work the register because you’ll end up losing them money! Good luck on your “art” or whatever. Now that you think about it, with all the economic instability and you’re mountain of debt, what’s wrong with having a steady paycheck that keeps you from being fed upon by the mouth of madness that is me, your Ego. , I only want to see you standing on a street corner with a tinfoil hat begging for people to listen to your ironclad theory of women originating on the moon, not Venus. You should really eat a box of doughnuts to shut me up, as a matter of fact ol’ Garold, that sounds pretty good!”
When you find me as an old man wandering around the country looking for a dog I never owned. Perhaps you’ll be wondering why I’m staring a thousand yards into the distance like a character in a Greek tragedy, foaming from the mouth, and otherwise being a miserable slice of humanity, I whisper, “little league football did this to me.”
Kidding aside, I have no complaints about growing up, I had an excellent childhood. I have two remarkable parents who kept me away from trouble as a kid, I found it, but they did their best to stave that meddlesome beast. The usual kid stuff happened to me; I fell off my bike, grossed out girls, me and my brother poked dead animals down by the local river with a stick and learned what a gateway drug was from a wicked cool, gun wielding, D.A.R.E. Officer. Speaking of drugs, I took for granted as a child how great it is not to have parents that sell or do meth. Really dodged a proverbial bullet on that. I think collectively as a society we can thank The Wire and Breaking Bad for showing us the true Emmy-Award winning face of drugs. I always make sure to thank them in the morning for not doing meth and selling me for more meth. As I sip coffee. Anyways, thanks mom and dad for not selling me for meth and letting me play football instead.