Lombardi Wannabe
The other day, I headed out to see a confirmand of mine playing in a junior high girls' basketball game. There was one guy there in the bleachers— seems I see one like him at any sports event I attend— grey grizzled grimjaw, short grey-peppered crewcut, harsh joyless expression, grizzlejaw, wearing a black nylon jacket, and constantly all through the game barking a nonstop stream of SportSpeak™ cliches at the girls:
"Whad ya doin', whad ya DOIN', MOVE it
Meanwhile, a bunch of eighth grade girls are weaving and bobbling around out there on the court. And grizzled harshjaw keeps barking at them, the Vince Lombardi of the sidelines, as if victory would be theirs if only they'd listen and instantly respond to his nonstop diarrhea-stream of sports commentary.
1 Comments:
Well, Arnold, thank you for your kind words. (BTW, I think the RC Cola thread is over thataway :) Actually, even though I'm in Iowa, I'm not that far from Wisconsin. Only about six miles west of the Mississippi. In fact, people tell me that from up here high atop Wheatland Ridge, on a clear day you can see the bluffs on the Wisconsin side of the river, if you know where to look. I've never quite been convinced of that, though I certainly can easily see the plume from the nuclear power plant over at Genoa.
And I can see Minnesota from my front doorstep: the Minnesota state line runs just two cornfields to the north of me.
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