I have found if you ask someone their favorite season, more often than not, the response will be “Fall.” I have no other choice than to agree.
The days turn cooler, offering relief from the summer heat. The colors that grace the trees; no artist can paint. The crisp evenings instill a spring in our step and a revitalization that encompasses our inner being.
Only this time of year are we able to embrace the sights and sounds of the autumnal equinox. The grass is nearly dormant, extending a six-month hiatus to leave it be. Spend the time you would normally use to trim your lawn, on a flight of fancy for pure enjoyment.
Yes, indeed, this beautiful season we refer to as Fall. I once again must reiterate the sights, sounds, the cool crisp air… There’s something I’m missing… Something very important… What can it be?
Now I remember; a deep breath, an earth shattering sneeze, and 3 pounds of phlegm blast from my snot locker.
Smell! That’s what I’ve been missing! It’s not Fall; it’s ragweed season–otherwise known as “Relentless, Autumnal-Germinated Water, Exceedingly Enriched, Disgusting, Snot, Eternally Antagonizing Said Owner of Nose.”
Wow! I don’t normally delve into mounds of mucus, but this just had to be said. Now, I strongly suggest to myself that I change the subject.
What popular activity is associated with Sunday (after church, of course) that coincides with the flowing of the phlegm? It’s the season of that great gridiron game, the all American sport of FOOTBALL. Sixteen weeks of testosterone-filled excitement, followed by the playoffs and then, the day of days…what we’ve waited an entire year to see…the only day of the year spousal abuse is allowed (and believe you me, my wife has a right hook that will put you on your butt. If I’m not mistaken I didn’t fully regain consciousness until Tuesday.)…Superbowl Sunday! There is no doubt for that portion of the year, it’s manly men, wearing manly equipment, playing manly games.
Hmm… There is… dare I say it? Yes, I think I must… There is another manly game, played by manly men, in the land across the great pond. This land is a land of friendship–non-other than, the United Kingdom.
In no way do I mean to imply that our American football players are not manly due to the protective gear they don; football can be a vicious game and many injuries occur despite the high-tech gear.
However, I couldn’t help but notice in the game of rugby no equipment is worn. I have enjoyed rugby matches even though I haven’t a clue as to what they are doing. What I have been able to ascertain thus far amounts to this:
Burly men pushing back and forth in what is known as a scrum. There is a ball and crude orthodontia work being performed on the field. And, there you have it, my knowledge concerning the sport of rugby.
Unfortunately our time is over for now. There’s a football game about to start and I’m way behind on my play-by-play, not to mention the overabundance of mucus.
As for rugby, you’re walking a fine line between insanity and the manliest of the manly. For now I’ll discount the insanity and err on the side of manly-ism, but couldn’t you guys at least wear a mouth piece.