Each year, I take some time in this column to give my thoughts on our five area high school football teams. I try to make predictions and give report card grades. It’s usually an easy thing to do because I’ve spent all summer watching these guys in 7-on-7s.
My oldest has a favorite stuffed animal.
It’s name is “baby.”
It’s a mutant stuffed animal—half hedgehog, half blanket. She has slept with it every night since she came home from the hospital.
By the time you’re reading this, I’ll have a third child.
Just in time for Son’s Day, if you’ve checked Facebook in the last few days. Can we just agree that Daughter’s Day and Son’s Day is not a thing? It’s not. Stop it! Stop adding days!
Now, National Donut Day? YES.
It’s been said that nobody cares about your fantasy team but you…
That can’t be true, can it?
I mean, I’m 2-0 right now y’all. I’ve got some good receivers, some great running backs and a solid option or two at quarterback. And I’ve made some darn good decisions.
I wish I could just write about how excited I am that football is back.
Because it’s true.
I’m enjoying the games and my wife can tell you that I’ve watched far too many of them in the past seven days.
We need football. A lot of things are upside down in our world and sports are the escape that they need to be.
The NBA in the bubble is…kind of good.
It’s absurd that this is a controversial statement, considering we just went months without a single new sporting event. But the weird new atmosphere with no fans, coupled with enhanced social and political messaging during games, has turned a lot of casual viewers off.
I’m trying y’all.
I’m trying to avoid talking about coronavirus. I don’t want to. I know you’re probably sick of it. Everybody has opinions and you’ve likely been bombarded with them.
I’ve addressed some of my concerns on the topic in the column, but I’m trying not to beat you guys over the head with it.
Do I need to be liked? Absolutely not.
I like to be liked.
I enjoy being liked.
I have to be liked.
But it’s not like this compulsive need to be liked, like my need to be praised.”
Those beautiful words from Michael Scott are more true than I want to admit sometimes.
To borrow from Bilbo Baggins, I know I don’t look it, but I’m beginning to feel it—like butter scraped across too much bread.
(Some of you are probably saying, “yes you do look it,” but now is not the time.)
They want to play.
We used to live in a country where willingness to participate was the only prerequisite for legal, recreational activity.