Howdy online neighbors! Glad you decided to come by to see what’s typing around here. Hope you are having the kind of day that you can celebrate with a deluxe discount pizza and a cold soda. Today I thought I’d down-blog it a little, and post up a fun story. Every now and then I break out the balloons and confetti and let the clown in me hog the keyboard. Okay, let’s get blogging!
“All right! Listen up you guys! We got fifteen seconds left on the clock. Its fourth quarter, and we got forty-six more yards to go, to get to the end-zone. The coach says it’s up to us to come up with a play that gets us there!” Joe Radzinsky hollers this announcement to all his teammates standing around him in the huddle. Taking a quick look around, Joe could see that everybody was as tired as a mom keeping up with a hyper active two year old.
On the outside of his teammates, Joe was looking at grass stains and dirt smudges. But he knew that if he were to look on the inside of his teammates, there would still be a lot of determination left to do their best . “Are you sure you heard the coach right Joe? He’s leaving the call up to us? Joe, you’re the quarterback. Maybe you outta go over and ask him if he’s sure.” Joe looked sharply over at his star wide receiver. “Shut up Blicks! I know coach. I’m sure he knows what he’s doing! And besides… We don’t have any time left to send somebody to ask him if we heard him right or not. Our last time-out is just about over. So… anybody got any ideas?”
“Radzinsky, you’re our quarterback. You better call the play,” Melvin Brown suggests. Melvin Brown was the biggest tight end in the whole school district, and Joe’s best friend. He had big confidence in Joe. But still, he needed to be sure.
Joe didn’t even think about what to say before he said, “No way, Melvin. If the coach wanted me to call this one, he wouldn’t have said for us to come up with something. So you guys better give me some feedback quick, or we’re going to be standing around out here looking stupid when they call a delay of game penalty on us.”
The voice of a team member speaks out in the huddle. “Joe. I think I got something.” “Okay Owling. Let’s have it. What’s on your mind dude?” “I know this is crazy Joe, but how about X-98 Swing Fumble?” Joe’s eyes bug out with shock, while the rest of the team smirkes and chuckles. Joe looked at Peter Owling as though he were thinking about severely tackling him.
“X-98 Swing… Man Owling, are you dehydrated?! X-98 was a joke play I made up in practice. Remember? But never mind. X-98 huh? Hmmm. Might be crazy enough to work, if we use it. If we do, Owling, you might wind up being called the smartest offensive center anybody has ever heard of, or become famous for being the dumbest thing anybody has ever seen wearing a football uniform. But how about x-98 guys? Whadda you think?”
Everybody in the huddle, but Joe and Owling, stood still like live tackling dummies. But each quickly nodded their approval. The vote was in. The next play they ran would be the most shocking play of the season. Joe smiled at the idea, and everyone else in the huddle grinned a little too. “Alright then guys. X-98 Swing Fumble it is. On two, on two! BREAK!” But before Joe goes to line up for the play, he trots over to the referee for a quick word, and then hurries back to get into formation.
The boys quickly arrange themselves into their positions at the line of scrimmage. The crowd murmurs with anticipation, and then their murmurings turn into mob noises.
They had every reason to be upset. Because the Road Hogs’ center was lining up behind their quarterback in the shot gun position, and the quarterback was lining up at the center’s position!!!
As the signals were being called, there wasn’t a Road Hog fan in the stadium who wasn’t holding their breath, or not already aiming a paper cup to throw at the field, in the event that whatever crazy thing the Road Hogs were about to do didn’t go all that well.
The booth announcer comments, “…Never in all my years as a sports commentator have I ever witnessed this kind of gridiron chicanery, or offensive foolishness before. Oddly enough the head coach of the Road Hogs seems to be okay with this fiasco formation his offense has assembled themselves into. But who knows?”
“Maybe the pressure of his first national championship has scrambled his ability to make a sensible play call. If I were him, I would be throwing a customer fit right about now. And I would like to make it clear. We haven’t received any word that what the Road Hogs are doing is not regulation. So far not a single field judge or the referee has offered any objections. So…”
“But take it from me, the Road Hogs better have made plans for making a quick getaway from the stadium when this game is over! Because the way the Road Hog fans are screaming now, the Road Hogs are going to need the fastest road-jet to get them to safety! But hey! Hold tight to your beer and Coney dog, cause here we go!”
“Radzinsky just hiked the ball to his center. Yes, his center folks! Number 62, Peter Owling. Owling is fading back in the true lumbering style of a man that weighs all of 275 pounds with love handles!
And oh my geriatric support hose! I don’t believe it!!!! Owling just fell to the ground!!! On purpose!!! And nobody’s even touched one stitch of his pricey team uniform!!! Wait! Am I seeing this right???!!! Somebody heat up the defibrillation paddles for me! I can’t possibly be seeing this.”
“Peter Owling just let the ball roll away from him??!!! If I’m lying I’m a rehab recall. He just…!!! Forgive me folks. I almost said something that you can’t say on network television. But Owling may have just fumbled away the only chance his team had of winning this football championship!”
“Hey Mike, are we watching a blooper here, or what?!!! Don’t answer that Mike. I wasn’t being serious.”
“But folks, I hate to tell you this, it looks like the Road Hogs illustrious season is a heart beat away from utter doom and disgrace. The Sea Sharks’ linemen, like the sea animals they are named after, are converging on the abandoned $200 football as if it were chum in the water. Said piece of football equipment just happens to be resting only a foot and a half away from where Owling is seated on the ground. Between Owling and a doped up dental patient; you wouldn’t be able to tell the difference.
“Trust me when I say a Sea Shark recovery is about to happen!”
“As for the rest of the Sea Sharks defense, they are contentedly standing around licking their chops with Championship glory on their minds. And why not? This fumble recovery will absolutely clinch a very big over-stuffed paycheck for them, along with a diamond/gold ring that would blind a jeweler wearing extra dark sunglasses.”
“Mike, I can’t watch! Oh who am I kidding?!!! But waitaminute! Here’s a surprise! Owling is snatching up the ball again, and is flipping a side arm lateral to…? Mama Mia! It’s Kevontay Blicks, the Road Hogs prime wide receiver! Maybe I’m not seeing this play the right way. Yeah, right.”
“Kevontay Blicks has the ball, and he isn’t wasting any time setting himself to throw a pass. He’s launching a laser beam spiral towards the Sea Sharks’ end-zone!”
“It’s like watching a brown and white guided blur spiraling through the stadium’s airspace, on it’s way to a downfield target! -Like that lone figure waiting in the Sharks’ end-zone! Who is that Mike?!!”
“Never mind Mike! I’d know that big man anywhere! He’s wearing a Road Hog jersey! He’s their big tight end, Melvin Brown! And he’s making the catch! Heyyy! TOUCHDOWNNNNN Road Hogs!!!”
“Hot spinach dip! It’s Black Friday pandemonium around here! The crowd is cheering like they were standing under a shower of hundred dollar bills!!!! I’ll be a pigeon’s after-diner target! The Road Hogs Win!!!”
Talk about your fantasy football, huh?
Thanks for reading the writing! And may God bless you with the invisible things that keep you well and prospering.
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