Testing

It's testing week at school. This only brings back memories of the skits we used to perform when I taught at D-Hayes. Each department was in charge of getting our kids pumped up for the upcoming test. Social Studies clearly had the edge each year, although my Math teacher buddy Greenie did a helluva Matt Foley impression. Not to mention Scotty Mo and his ridiculous Ron Bergundy impression. You will see Matt Foley implemented into our skit. Enjoy a quick recap of the events. The premise is I am the class of that sophomore year, fighting each of the tests that are required.

Boiling Point

Remember a time when something ticked you off so much to the point that you felt that tingle come up your neck, you kinda hold your breath and your brain puts together two options of a response.....one you contain yourself and swallow that burning tingle and not regret saying or doing something awful.....or.....your brain lets you cut lose. That is the boiling point. When you reach the boiling point in your life, what you do with it often defines you. I have a boiling point moment that I spent the last 8 years regretting, but not for the reason you might think.

This picture is of the Univ. Findlay practice field, where I spent one long season. I want you to focus on the right portion of the picture before you read the rest of this. You might see a white line, this represents the field goal post of the east endzone, and to the right, you will see a creek. Now the boiling point.

Every day we spent a 10 minute period throwing fade routes into the corner of that endzone. You might be thinking, "what's the big deal?" The big deal Magellan, is that an overthrown fade route ends up racing down the creek like Huck Finn minus his raft. I can't tell you how many times a ball might bounce off of a finger or I threw a crap ball into that steep filth ridden creek. When this happened, did we send our Grad Assistants in to get it? Of course not. We sent the young freshman QB, even if it wasn't his fault. That happened to be me. This isn't the boiling point.

Our starting QB got knocked out, literally, one game. So that meant the football fishing freshman QB, yours truly, was now the starter. Tuesdays we started practice with offensive meetings and hurry up offense. The best part, I had class tuesday afternoons that caused me to always miss that meeting. So of course the day I miss they happen to put in a new play. No one tells me. I show up in time for Hurry Up drills, like always, but this time I'm the starter. I hop in the huddle, start moving us down the field, and wouldn't you know it, they call the new play. I stumble through it in my head thinking I know enough about football, I can't figure this out and they'll never know the difference. Until I couldn't.

I had to ask for help. Insert Boiling Point. All hell broke loose. The head coach, which I will refer to as, the anti-christ, started going ballistic. Then his little henchmen the O-line coach came in and caused that burning tingle of anger on steriod feeling. His exact words were:

"Wise, why don't you just throw the ball in the creek, that's all you know how to do anyways"

Now come the two options in my brain. On one hand I thought about ripping my helmet off, Chucking that football into the creek and saying "How was that you son of #%#$#" Walking off the field with my middle finger in the air. Or

option 2. Nod, ask the backup how to run the play, and execute it.

For eight years I have regretted the fact that I did option 2. Man I wish I would have done option 1. I thought that way until recently I started reading the blogs from two of my good friends Mike and Lides. I realized the past that the boiling points I dealt with, were ice caps compared to theirs. I am almost embarrassed to think that I had it so bad, playing Div. 2 football. What a joke. You wanna see guys that had it rough but came through every boiling point, look no further.

Ode to Ben

Oh Ye Big Ben so young at a position so new,

playing behind the coaches son for the Findlay Gold and Blue.

You had your glory and rose to fame,

Only to attend a small school like Miami, sorta lame?

Impressive you were throughout your college career,

luckily you were drafted by the steelers so for you I did not have to cheer.

A quick rise to fame with the steeler gold and black,

apparently you felt this gave you a free pass to mack.

Slow on the field with a nickname of "Big",

you got in a wreck like an 18 wheel rig.

Your head skid across the pavement like the tip of a match,

Honestly steeler nation? you're stuck with Charlie Batch?

Looks like his problems are far behind him,

Oh wait, was that rape victim out west named Kim?

Oh how thee mountain of greaseball you've let us down,

such an embarrassment, the nike mural in your home town.

We thought one and done was your rape motto,

never did we expect tabloids would hit the lotto.

Soon you'll be forgotten as the NFL MVP,

next time you think about it, say no to your wee wee.