Football season is coming to a close, and I couldn't be happier.
There's been no need for pinto bean laden milk jugs with our team's slow
demise. We lost the backup QB to a move to Korea; we lost another player to
stitches, and we lost several more back in week three when we put on pads. Our
team of four, one of those weighing in at the colossal weight of 43 pounds,
never had a chance. I think our cheerleaders have even given up on cheering for
us. They have resorted to spending the last two quarters on the playground
because there are just so many times you want to yell, "Let's go defense.
Let's go!"
Tuesday night our frustration levels were maxed out. It was apparent the football gods had deserted us because we had only one play with any yards gained, and it was due to a penalty. In the second half of the game, Keagan had had enough. After getting pulled to the ground by his face mask, the tiniest guy on the field looked up at the ref and fired back, "Are you going to call that, Ref? He's face maskin' me and holdin' me. This is just unacceptable!"
I think I might have said that a time or two myself.
Thursday is our last game. Forget winning. Forget scoring. My single prayer is to survive another loss and the guaranteed bad calls.
Tuesday night our frustration levels were maxed out. It was apparent the football gods had deserted us because we had only one play with any yards gained, and it was due to a penalty. In the second half of the game, Keagan had had enough. After getting pulled to the ground by his face mask, the tiniest guy on the field looked up at the ref and fired back, "Are you going to call that, Ref? He's face maskin' me and holdin' me. This is just unacceptable!"
I think I might have said that a time or two myself.
Thursday is our last game. Forget winning. Forget scoring. My single prayer is to survive another loss and the guaranteed bad calls.
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