You know what really grinds my gears? Well, maybe this week I should ask, you know what USED to really grind my gears? It was back in school when I played football.
First, you have to understand. I hate football. I always did. Only played for one reason: To impress girls. To me, there was no other reason.
I always thought of myself as a rational person. I don't like pain. For example, if you're crossing the street and you get hit by a car, you don't cross that street again if you see a car coming. You learn that in life. But in football they teach you if you get run over by eleven guys, get up and let them do that to you again, or else you're a freaking pussy! And that's the coach telling you this, not just the other guys.
You see, what always got me is that the coaches never had to get out there and play. They had a piece of chalk and a blackboard and they would draw X's and O's.
They say, "Now you block this guy this way, and you block this guy that way, you hand off the ball to him, then you just cut on up and go for the TD!"
With X's and O's, I'm blocking guys left, right and center. But I got news for him. In real life, the guy I'm supposed to block is 6 ft. 3 and weighs 225 pounds! I was 5 ft. 11 and weighed 190 back then. Yeah, that was a real even match. It was like a Volkswagen going up against a MAC truck! Now I'm thinking right now of a real life player I played against who went to Pomona High School. He was a huge N- I mean African-American. Let's just say every time we went up against each other, well, you can imagine what happened. OUCH! Except once.
I don't know how, but somehow I managed to slip around him and I don't know what happened because it all happened so fast but somehow I recovered one of our own fumbles. It was a fluke. I wasn't even supposed to get the ball. My job was to block. Anyway, he was after me like a shot. I could feel one of his hands start to grab me. Instead he actually grabbed my jersey. I kept running. Then I heard a tearing sound. He was literally ripping the jersey off of my back. Then I felt his other hand on me and down I went. Did I make the TD? Nope. Close, but no cigar. I got the wind knocked out of me and the coach took me out of the game. No we didn't win, and yes I did get hurt. Not seriously, but like I said, I don't like pain.
Funny thing about my short football career. It really didn't do much for my love life. The only thng I got out of football was a bad knee and a stupid letterman's jacket that I was too chunky to wear by the time I was 20.
Well, that's what USED to grind my gears, and I guess it still does - mainly because I was a stupid idiot kid for playing such a dumb game for such a dumb reason in the first place. Maybe it wouldn't have been so dumb if I was doing it to get into and stay in shape, but it was just to get girls - which didn't work. Girls didn't like to date second stringers. Second stringers were almost as much losers as non-players in the high school heirarchy.