Wish Me Luck -- A Clearly Stupid Decision

In what's shaping up to be a nice day, somehow, my far-more-youthful-thinking mind has convinced my body that "it's a great day for football." I don't mean watching football, obviously -- I'm always ready for that (as last week's post attested to). I mean, actually heading out and playing some football today.

We did this last year. Once. That should give you an example of how successful it was.

We've been setting this up for weeks. I imagine, somewhere along the way, I expected some fairy godmother to bless me with either more youthful athleticism or tuberculosis -- I was really okay with either option. Neither panned out.

We're starting around 10:30am -- we were supposed to start at 11am, but one friend said he had to leave by 12:30pm, so we wanted to maximize our opportunity, and we moved the start time up. This was done for two reasons -- first, so we can actually play a more meaningful game; and second, so we can be more leisurely when it comes to helping our fallen comrades stand upright again.

The rules still haven't been completely worked out yet, either. We don't play flag football (too likely to "miss"); and we don't play two-hand-touch (too likely to be too forceful and knock people over ... plus it's damned hard to catch up to the fast members of our group). Last year we played one-hand-touch, and that was okay, I guess. We may be changing it this year to "breathe-near-the-guy", just to keep it within our realm of accomplishments.

So - as I said from the get-go, wish me luck. (On a related "luck" note, I do have three interviews this week; although, if I don't return from today's "festivities" I guess they really don't matter all that much, do they?)