Vaughn and I went to the Santa Ana Center last night with some friends to watch the Wildcats play football. It was quite an interesting night.
Arena football is like regulation football in all ways except the field. The field is only 50 yards long. The goal posts hang suspended from the ceiling and if a kick-off or punt hits the ceiling, it is placed where it lands.
We were sitting in the seats behind the goal post. Every time a team tried for an extra point, a crowd of grown men, teeaged boys, and male children would cram into the aisle for a chance to catch the ball. I found out early on in the night that if you catch a ball, you get to keep it. (Much like a baseball game)
In the the third quarter, a crowd of various aged males crammed into the aisle during the extra point. The ball whizzed over our heads and fell not far behind us. Immediately, a small circle of grown men began to fight over the ball...yes...I said FIGHT! They were grabbing and scratching and turning four shades of purpledy-red. One man with a crew-cut and a three foot long braid exploding from the back of his head finally emerged victorious by grasping the ball and leaping like one of Santa's reindeer over the seats (filled with people).
This spectacle was a therapist's cash-cow! One little boy of around seven years old was trampled and had to be taken out by his parent. While the rest of the young children stared in horror, the teenagers had a sudden glint in their eyes. (I believe that the glint was saying, "If these grown-ups can fight, so can we! Yee-Haw!)
This is my theory. There is a group of grown men that have never evolved past High School. This can be attributed to two things. One: they were high-school heroes at one time but sprouted a huge beer-belly and an inferiority complex. Two: they missed out on high-school heroics and are making up for lost time by picking on small kids. It's rather bizarre...and disturbing!
So, here is my hint of the day: No arena football souvenier is worth trampling a small child!
Arena football is like regulation football in all ways except the field. The field is only 50 yards long. The goal posts hang suspended from the ceiling and if a kick-off or punt hits the ceiling, it is placed where it lands.
We were sitting in the seats behind the goal post. Every time a team tried for an extra point, a crowd of grown men, teeaged boys, and male children would cram into the aisle for a chance to catch the ball. I found out early on in the night that if you catch a ball, you get to keep it. (Much like a baseball game)
In the the third quarter, a crowd of various aged males crammed into the aisle during the extra point. The ball whizzed over our heads and fell not far behind us. Immediately, a small circle of grown men began to fight over the ball...yes...I said FIGHT! They were grabbing and scratching and turning four shades of purpledy-red. One man with a crew-cut and a three foot long braid exploding from the back of his head finally emerged victorious by grasping the ball and leaping like one of Santa's reindeer over the seats (filled with people).
This spectacle was a therapist's cash-cow! One little boy of around seven years old was trampled and had to be taken out by his parent. While the rest of the young children stared in horror, the teenagers had a sudden glint in their eyes. (I believe that the glint was saying, "If these grown-ups can fight, so can we! Yee-Haw!)
This is my theory. There is a group of grown men that have never evolved past High School. This can be attributed to two things. One: they were high-school heroes at one time but sprouted a huge beer-belly and an inferiority complex. Two: they missed out on high-school heroics and are making up for lost time by picking on small kids. It's rather bizarre...and disturbing!
So, here is my hint of the day: No arena football souvenier is worth trampling a small child!
1 comment:
I completely agree. But you know how I love a good fight. Check out
my updated blog now.
Post a Comment