Since “retiring” (read: quitting) college football, I have this lingering moronic desire to continue sports. I have played basketball (I never scored a point in two years in elementary school), dodgeball (sorest I have ever been in my life other than the motorcycle wreck I had), bowling (two time Big Wazoo champions, but not really a sport), and softball. We went tonight and the other team no showed, so we won. At the bar, we got a call – the league commish sent their team the wrong schedule, so now I have a doubleheader later. Boo. Adult sports = injuries. I have torn my hamstring, my buddy broke his leg, and another one tore his elbow tendon. For what, you ask? A $10 engraved trophy that sits in a bar in Hilliard, Ohio – 2006 runners-up, Field 4. Yes, Field 4, where the worst of the worst relive little league memories under the influence of booze and false hopes.
On a side note, how do so many people with minimum wage jobs have arm sleeve tattoos and Harleys? I went to college for free, drink Busch Light, eat Kroger brand ravioli four times a week and live in a part of town two miles from the Hilltop; which looks like Snake Pliskin is about to try and escape from any day now. Seriously, they found a human torso in a pond a mile from my front door in 2010. What have I done with my life? Oh yes, it’s the run ins with the law, the gambling trips while drunk, and of course, the motorcycle I bought for $5000, then totaled after less than a quarter mile. I went from a DMX video to a Jackass: the Movie outtake in one half minute.