Skip to main content

Brett Favre, Vince Young And A Glass Of Milk

    I took some time off from my labors today and watched some football. I thought I'd share a few thoughts. First of all, I hate to see Brett Farve's life going down the tubes like this. That's probably putting it strongly. His life, compared to most people's, is probably going pretty good. I wish he had retired before this year started. Even though I don't like the Packers, I've always liked Brett. The deal with the alleged texts to the lady reporter is distressing to him and his family, I'm sure. To get embarassed by Green Bay today had to be a bitter pill to swallow. I hope he goes ahead and retires tommorow. It looks as though he may be suspended anyway. In my opinion he is one of the top ten quarterbacks in NFL history.
     Tough day for Vince Young. By all accounts a bad thumb injury on his throwing hand, a tiff with his coach, threw his shoulder pads into the stands etc. What most of us don't understand is that fame is like a magnifying glass. It exposes our faults. More importantly, the pressures brought on by fame and even wealth can manipulate insecurities that are buried so deep that they'd never cause a problem in a regular guy.
 I'm not trying to make excuses for people, I'm just saying normal folks can't understand a life totally alien to them. Hopefully, Vince can rebound from his troubles. The bottom line is, people are more important than sports.
    It seems painfully clear to me now, as an old guy, that America and the world are way too serious about sports. What used to be an opportunity for exercise and recreation has morphed into something a bit intense. Good sportsmanship is considered a wimpish, idealistic throwback to another era. This doubtless sounds funny coming from a guy who threw a glass of milk against the wall one day. The occasion was during a playoff game when the Falcons gave up three touchdowns in the final few minutes of the game to the Dallas Cowboys. I really think we could have won the Super Bowl that year. Steve Bartkowski was our quarterback back then. He could throw the deep ball as well as anyone. In those days they called it 'throwing the bomb'. At any rate, the Falcons lost the game and I was in the doghouse with my wife. Deservedly so.
    From the author's green retreat, I'm CE Wills.
PS: I don't even have a doghouse around here now.
  
   
   

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

The White Chicken Mystery

    The other night I happened to come home very late. It was the middle of the night and I was driving up a steep mountain road. Near the top I saw something white in my headlights. It was standing in the other lane, standing very still. It was a large white chicken. It was probably a rooster because I thought I could see his comb as I whizzed by at my customary pace. He never moved a muscle. This is weird, don't you think?      After a couple of days to consider this phenomenon, I have come up with some plausible answers for his bizarre behavior. 1. He was conflicted whether or not he should cross the road. 2. He was feeling cocky and decided to play chicken with the traffic. 3.He was being hen-pecked at home and had decided to end it all. 4. Someone had egged him on to do it. 5. He had just watched the movie Fantastic Four and decided to try to stop a truck the way that Ben Grimm did on the bridge. 6. He had driven himself crazy wondering if ...

Egg Art

     Hey, everyone. One of the odd customs in America is the Easter Egg Hunt. Here at the Green Retreat, we do a hunt every Spring. I just ran across some of the pictures from this years hunt and it is obvious that an artist had sneaked into our midst. The orange egg is a rendering of one of the Angry Birds of gaming lore. If I were a bird and had to pass an egg that size, I would be angry too. Ha, ha.      We typically will dye about 10 dozen eggs and people get quite creative with their quotes and colors, as you can see. Many of the eggs are a bit risque for these pages. After having a few laughs, we hide the eggs. All of them are never found, which is cool. It is amusing to see old men (me) and all ages of folks, walking around with a basket on their arm. Some of the hiding spots are dastardly. Like eggs hidden in the guttering downspouts and ten foot up a tree. The kids are perhaps the most devious at hiding the colorful orbs, goi...

The Biscuit

    Hey, everyone. What a relief that Christmas is over, huh? I don't think it was meant to be the way it is.     I started thinking about the so-called good 'ole days today. My wife says that at her house, they would take a left-over biscuit and shine their shoes before church. I one-upped her by saying, "Oh, yeah? I ate the biscuit when everyone got finished with it. And I was grateful for it." Truly, though, you can and people did, shine their shoes with a biscuit. Hey, they were greasy little buggers.     Speaking of greasy little buggers, I remember when everyone had wells and were very conservative about water, particularly those of us who had to crank a handle up and down to get a bucket of water. There was no daily bath. (No showers in those days, mate.) About twice a week we took a bath and here's the recipe: The oldest kid took a bath first, then the next oldest etc. You can see why younger siblings hated the older. Bathing in the...