Friday, September 7, 2012
I keep having the weirdest dreams of kids playing pee-wee football; with uniforms sponsored by beer companies, as in the old days. Only except for the uniforms everything is free as a sandlot. No coaches spilling nonsense about "The Character to Win' or inventing tales about a local sports hero working three jobs and saving puppies from fires while they make the kids do jumping jacks in unison. No 'voluntary' prayer, no aggrandized macho nonsense. Just kids drawing up their own quadruple reverses and flea-flickers; bouncing off of each other's chest pads because it feels funny. Accepting whatever the score happens to be when someone feels hungry. No clock.