Runnin' the Ball is Like Makin' Romance.

I hate weekends.

Weekends are like the girl you start to date thinking that everything is heaven. They are two days of bliss. All is right in the world then suddenly they turn on you like a dog with rabies (resist temptation to use the word "bitch"). Then, like in the "Where the Red Fern Grows" and "Old Yeller" you have to put the bitch down with a shotgun. All the while Travis is crying and can't believe what just happened. But along comes another dog and life is good again. Unfortunately, the viscious cycle starts all over. Dogs always get rabies...always.

That is why I hate weekends. So I am just going to start falling in love with Mondays. Might as well learn to live with the hell.

I did enjoy watching football over the weekend. There were some good games. Everytime I watch football I get nostalgic and think of my own playing days. Those were the days when I actually loved weekends. Which is interesting, because, in my little league playing days (don't laugh, I did this in Texas and in Texas football is God. I even had an agent. I sat out the year I was 10 trying to renegogiate. For the record, Texans are cheap.) I would have a quaterback's hands up my butt. Yes, I played center my first year of little league. Believe me when I say this, it was very awkward. How I prayed that we would use the shotgun formation.

So the coach says to me, "AB, we want you to play center." I panicked and asked, "Why?" He just grinned and said, "You have the cutest butt." How do you resist that?

I took the quarterback (who was not too thrilled yet) out to dinner, bought him some flowers, saw a couple of movies, and discussed proper hygiene. All of this just to make him feel better. After some tense moments at first (think of a bare-handed colonoscopy), he eventually began to slap his hand in there in a way that would make Joe Montana proud.

Our team won one game that year. The one game we did win was on a 70 yard quarterback sneak of which I made the key blocks. We hugged in the end zone and from that point on devoted our lives to each other. It just all seemed worth it at that moment.

The next year we got a new center. It was hard to see the quarterback and "the new guy" warming up to each other game after game. I must admit, the jealousy was there. Over time I got use to my new role as Tight End. Today I am grateful for it.

By the way, have you ever wondered what the conversation was like in the pioneering days of football when they put this together?

Player 1: Ok, the rule states the quaterback must receive the ball from the center by shoving his hands into the others arse.
Player 2: Wh...what?
Player 1: Yes, it is the only way. Here I will show you...bend over.
Player 2: No thanks, I will play basketball. They have those cool apple basket hoops.
Player 1: Oh please! I also want to show you how, in celebration, we will slap each others butts! It is fun! Aw, come on!