A 48-Hour Break

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Nothing better than the morning when you wake up with two straight days off staring you in the face.

Of course, they aren't true days off as there is some computer work stretched out before you, but the mad rush feeling is less, for sure.

Even the dogs know the difference between Saturday and Monday.

Anywhoha...

Some thoughts collected as I pondered the end of the National Football League:

As you shake your head and consider it impossible think of this:

What if three or four defense attorneys figure out that the reason why his client beat his (wife) (Kid) (dog) (cat) (grandmother) (2nd cousin on his mother's side) was because his brain had been damaged by being hit.

It's gonna' happen...and when that defense catches on as a way to explain abysmal behavior...the thread is gonna' come loose.

Players won't be able to be hit at all.

None of you are gonna' watch flag football.

And before you dismiss it as an excuse for the bad behavior...the people being busted are running backs and linebackers...and there is a lot to put up there as Exhibit A.

Not only have we had these last few beat-downs...we've had a bunch of suicides.

When the thread unravels the sport is gonna' fall quickly.

And you can bet your ass one of these defense attorneys has already considered blowing the lid off it...after all...it occurred to me and I'm just a loudmouth safety man.

What else on the 48-hour break?

For a lot of years I've had to spend a couple of nights a month on the road in various towns across this great state of New York and on this past visit I figured out that:

My family doesn't just sit around and weep when I leave.

That's what they tell me they're doing when I call home while on such trips:

Me: "What're you guys up to?"

Whatever Wise-ass answers the phone: "We're sitting in a circle in the living room, crying, and praying for your safe return."

Me: "Are you holding hands?"

Wise-ass: "Of course. We're just taking turns saying special things about you."

But after all these years, I just don't think it's true.

I came through the door after my trip on Friday night and it was a good half hour before I knew that any of them were home. They were all either out or engaged in some X-Box action.

Ah well.

The myth is broken!

Enjoy your 48-hour break!

Whenever you get it!

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