Saturday, November 25, 2006

Time Speeds Up






Let us rewind to just a couple of days ago. The sun was bright, temperatures were warming up to the mid 60's and the young men were all color coordinated in red, ready to serve the Elders Quorum their first loss in the annual Turkey Bowl. Now these boys had been fixin for some time to dethrone those endowed with more strength and wisdom. They had even been meetin and practicing all week for the big game...even had their own play book.

The Mighty Goliaths were up 28-0 at the half and the young David's were scratching their heads and whimpering.

Now enters the whole "time" factor of the story. A 10 minute half time is nowhere near enough time for the older Goliaths to recuperate. We bravely suited up in our armor again, determined to finally put David and Co. to rest [the refs/High Priests had declared that any 35 point lead would end the game]. Let me add quickly that the youngins had suffered two minor injuries whereas we had encountered none. Our egos were in good shape.

Somehow, the strapping young lads started pulling a rabbit out of the hat in the form of two missionaries that were playing for them [to help even out the teams] These two Elders must have been quickened by the spirit cause there was no way to cover them down field. The score quickly became less and less lopsided. We continued to score but not at the same speed/rate as the young men and their newfound polished shafts, hidden in the quiver of the Lord.

All we had to do was hold out till 11:30. 11:15, the youngsters tied the game at 35. In a last ditched effort, we made our final drive and our quarterback threw for the 3rd interception of the game. With 5 minutes left on the clock, the YM could smell blood in the water. With humble pie ready to serve, both sides reluctantly swallowed at least one bite, four downs later as the tie stood its ground.

To end this tale, I must say that there is something about getting older that makes the ground seem further away and not nearly as soft as I recall from my younger days. Every fiber of my being aches like I had spent the day at the gym being trained by Gov. Arnold himself. Please do not sign me up for the hoeing contest with any prophets from this dispensation.


 


 

4 comments:

Anonymous said...

How could you allow yourselves to be nearly beaten by the young men? Does BK know about this? If he gets wind of it, you will probably lose your seats right behind the team and be relegated to the student section - of the opposing team.

Lyle said...

pappy- like BK wasn't right there playing with us. He was as winded as the rest of us older folk.

Basketball is his forte.

compulsive writer said...

Tee hee! I love it! I am always amused when my husband regales me with tales from the court. The basketball court that is. He loves it when they beat the tar out of the youngins.

As for the hoeing contest, I'll take them on. I spent the summers of my youth (which, though they seem far away are not quite as far removed as those of "the authorities") as a professional hoer. I was even crew boss. I'm sure it's just like riding a bike...

swordsman said...

So how is B.K. doing these days?
has he bonked ya on the head, or thrown
some chairs around eh?
Well, nice going on the court,
basketball rocks! Don't ya know…
As for prairie dogs they belong on the
prairie hanging with sprites, prairie nyphs, and brownies and UFO experiments
maybe they help UFOs do the crop circle thing, eh?