I sincerely hope that was said with a very large tongue in cheek.
I am in the ER getting my cheek stitched up as I type.
When we moved to Southlake, the first question we were asked was- do your boys play football? My first son, the computer geek,just laughed, but younger son played in 7th grade, along with his 249 classmates. I wrote about attending a game on SI long, long ago.
Bubbas are neat. I was standing next to one at a seventh grade football game last year and he started telling me how we needed a new stadium but all these damn new jacks (is that a BUBBA term?) kept movin' in and votin' down the money wantin' stuff like computers. ANd their kids don't know nothin bout football-lil scrawny things. And I, being shy and retiring, mildly mentioned that maybe the "jacks" thought education was a little more important than football He pulled in his BUBBA gut, adjusted his gimme cap, and squared off with me.
"Football made me what I am today. Football taught me about life. I owe everythin' I am to my coach-he made a man of me"(I feel he was a tad belligerent).
"And I can tell you're very successful," said I politely, admiring his black t-shirt with "Southlake Feed Store" on it. However I was distracted from further comment as my 85 lb. son was now in the game. Not to worry-he had perfected the technique of leaping on piles of prostrate boys after the play was over and then high fiving everyone as they got up.
"Damn straight-these jack kids could use a little toughenin' up-God damn jacks think they can move in and change things..they don't know shit. Which one's your boy?"
"Ummm-#85" I lie, pointing to a 200 lb tackle.
"Hey--now he's a player" BUBBA nods appovingly and pats me on the back. I am in.
It's the little episodes like this that keep us mindful of ....something. I know my life was the better for our brief encounter. |
