Business preview–this week’s list, in all likelihood, will be the Marvin Gaye Top 25. I’m not sure that’s what I’m gonna do, but it’s entirely possible. Either that or Hendrix or the U2 list I’ve been promising. Might have to outsource that one to Ben, seeing as he knows more about U2 than I forgot.
Well, back in Durham after a quick trip to Atlanta to cover homecoming at that school my nephew attends. What did I realize more than anything? That I will never outgrow that whole Clark/Morehouse rivalry. I had sideline passes to the Clark/Morehouse football game–which the House insultingly made homecoming–and I swear I was gettin crunk like I was ready for the ruckus to start. I even thought I caught a couple of funny looks from this guy.
That guy, it must be said, is cool as a fan. I respect any cat that women adore who is also willing to leave the house stubbly and in less than pristine condition. For real, it’s rare I find a pretty boy that has the same indifference to those little things as I have. Keep it gully, Denzel.
Anyhoo, lemme tell you what is learned from watching a football game from the sidelines–you realize that them boys are out there hittin’ for real.

One of the funniest stories I’ve heard about my brother as a child–and every childhood story about him is absolutely hysterical–is this…
I think he was about 11 or 12, and he was deciding whether he wanted to play football. Since moms worked at Clark, she arranged with the coach to have him watch a game from the sidelines. After watching dudes get their blocks knocked for an hour or two, my brother turned to my mother.
“Maybe I’ll just be in the band.”
Had I been in his situation, I’d have voted for the trumpet, also.
Manlissen, neither Clark nor Morehouse plays real football. It’s one of the sadder rivalries in the world because both teams are perpetually dreadful. A straight pillow fight.
But them jokers were swingin’ those pillows pretty hard. I mean hard. On television, we sorta lose sight of how fast everyone’s moving and just how violent football can be.
Won’t see me making that mistake. Yowsers, Jack.
But the interesting thing was that I was watching the game over the shoulder of that guy in the link, whose son is Morehouse’s starting running back. It was wild to me how he never flinched or anything watching his boy catchin’ bad ones. I guess he’s gotten used to that over the years, but I can’t help but wonder if his wife still gets jittery watching all of that. I probably would. I sure hope my kids wanna play basketball, even if doing so would require genetically inheriting their mother’s knees and not mine.
But as I get older, it becomes more interesting to look over the shoulder of parenthood. The responsibility of it all has gotta be daunting and difficult to balance against all the pride and narcissism that comes from procreation. For me, it was cool to watch someone that much of a race of people is proud of be silently proud of his son. That was just cool to watch.
You know, I’m not sure this here post made much sense, if any at all. Bottom line–please believe them boys be stickin’ on the football field. And if you’ve got kids that play, how on earth do you watch without having to close your eyes? And if any of your kids box, please gimme the skinny on that.