Football is less interesting to me these days. But I am reminded of my six plus years “on the gridiron” in an earlier life growing up in the Pennsylvania hills between Penn State and Pittsburgh, when I get out of bed in the morning. Friday night lights, baby!
Many of my memories recur with nagging knee and neck malfunctions, but I guess that's part of the game.
I even tried football in college but got flattened by the largest human being I'd ever met. When I regained consciousness, I turned in my equipment and tried swimming and track — sports that didn't exist where I lived.
But occasionally I try to be an enthusiast and might catch part of a game on TV. While making myself some lunch the other day, I tuned into a Patriots game by accident. Peanut butter and jelly and Tom Brady. Ooops, no Brady. I'd forgotten about his suspension. Not keeping up.
When I turned up the volume to follow the action, the announcer was speaking Spanish! Now I know that I am not the sharpest knife in the drawer, and I do try to be very accepting of alternative cultures, but a New England Patriots football game in Spanish! I thought maybe because the other team was from Miami, maybe they were trying something new.
The remote control for our TV has at least 30 buttons. Beyond the Power, Channel and Volume buttons, I'm lost. No help there.
I didn't know what to do. I'm not a “read the manual” kind of guy. I'm told this is a common male affliction. But remarkably, I found the manual. And you know what? The instructions were in Spanish!
So this week's photo is of rocks. These are not the ones in my head!