for the next twelve days i shall be revealing stories from my childhood so that some of you may get a small glimpse into my dementia. each day i will tell a different story pertaining to a certain life lesson that i learned or to a certain quality that makes me who i am.
the first story is about my eight minutes of fame, and the discovery of
"The Girvan Ouch".
it was a cold january day in 2002, much like today, only it wasn't raining and school hadn't been canceled. since the "field" was actually concrete and had no grass we could only play football in the winter when there was a lot of snow on the ground. we were playing a friendly match when the opposing team's third down came and went without success. my friend sean was getting ready to punt the ball and i was steamboating. i think it's important to mention that i was, hands down, the best steamboater on that side of isslington. it is also important to note that sean was three times my size. he wasn't unhealthily obese, he was just huge. anyway, i was steamboating and he punted the ball right at me. in an effort to preserve my manhood i turned around and the ball hit me in the back. well, i flew about five feet in the air and landed flat on my face. after i got up i looked a sean and said "ouch". now, since the ball had technically hit me and sean recovered the ball. he got a fresh set of downs. the play was named the girvan ouch and was used on many unsuspecting victims where we would purposefully kick the ball at people so hard that they couldn't catch it and we would recover it. this only works in your own endzone in the NFL but i have seen it done on two occasions and every time i theink of how much money i could have made if only i had become a professional football coach.
more to come