Gut Rumbles
 

November 14, 2010

My boy

Originally published September 29, 2002

My son came to visit yesterday, much to my surprise. He never hooked up with young Jack, who was off somewhere with his sisters, so the pup and I ate boiled peanuts, played football and did manly things together. I may be wrong, but I believe that for an eight year-old, he has a lot more strength per square inch than most boys his age. He's like a goddam coiled spring.

After one tumultous play, I called time-out. "Daddy, will I ever be able to beat you at football?" he asked. Gasping, spent, wasted and sore, I said, "No, you'll never beat the Tall Dog." I needed a nap and a handful of Alieve.

Not today, he won't. But I see a serious ass-whuppin' coming in the near future. I hope I can see the exact moment, because the day before that happens is the day I retire from football, hang up my jockstrap and become a non-participatory COACH.

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