Tag Archives: football

Ambidextrous

dictionary with letter A

Ambidextrous: (adj.) a person able to use the right and left hands equally well.

I think each and every one of us is always looking for bragging rights.

But to be honest with you, there are certain things that most human beings are unable to do.

Ambidextrous is certainly one of them.

When I was a kid I had this friend who treated girls really lousy. When I was much, much younger I didn’t mind, because I was in that whole masculine hornet’s nest of believing that females might actually have cooties.

But this guy was really bad. It’s like he wanted to humiliate girls all the time–hurt their feelings, and came darned close to being physically intrusive.

So what we did every once in a while was challenge his macho nature by asking him to show us how he could throw a football left-handed, even though he was a right-handed person.

He fell for it every time.

He was terrible at throwing a ball with his left hand. I would say that he threw like a girl, but actually, most of the chicks I knew threw better.

But we wouldn’t laugh at him to his face. Instead, we applauded each time he threw this awkward pass into the air–trying to convince him how much of a stud he was. And when he ran to get the ball so he could show off again, we took that brief moment to burst out in laughter, only to calm down upon his return, further pumping up his ego and make him promise to do it again.

I do not think he was ever aware that we were using his pseudo-ambidextrous claims to make fun of him the way he made fun of the other portion of our species–the ladies.

Just a footnote: as it turns out, as he got older, he turned into a real nerd, and was so introspective that he never actually had a date with a woman. Considering how he treated them, it was probably a blessing sent from the heavens, ordained by the Divine to protect His second and certainly more improved human creation.

But I will never forget, and can even conjure the image in my mind to this day–him lurching back with all his might and attempting to heave that ball fifteen or twenty yards across the grass.

It was hilarious.

 

Aka

Words from Dic(tionary)

dictionary with letter A

 

Aka: (abbr.) also known as: e.g.John Merrick, aka the Elephant Man

J. R. Practix.

That’s the name on my birth certificate.

But during a brief season of playing football, I was aka “Big Jon.” Matter of fact, through high school, I was “just Jon, without an h”. I often joked that I selected the name because I wanted to “get the h outta there.” Some people thought that was funny.

  • A tiny handful knew me as “the music guy.”
  • There were those in my town who acquainted my personage with “deadbeat.”
  • Aka “Daddy,” which became “Dad”–and on more formal occasions is even announced, “my Father.”
  • Aka “Studly,” even though that was used so infrequently that I’m embarrassed to bring it up, but still, willing to propagate the myth.
  • Aka “Composer.”
  • Aka “Vagabond.”
  • Aka “Writer.”
  • Aka “Preacher”–though I was never actually able to embody the look or attributes of a parson.
  • Aka “Musician”–though I must bow my head in the presence of the true clerics of chords.

Then came grandchildren. So …

  • Aka “G-Pop.”
  • Three of my sons were adopted in my heart as god-children, and they chose to refer to me as “Pop.”
  • Aka “Husband.”
  • Aka “Lover” (in generous moments by forgiving females)
  • Aka “Business man” (unless you look at my books)
  • Aka “Traveler” (Just check my odometer)
  • Aka “Human being,” of which I am most proud.

I realize today that I have so many names associated with me that if I had a driver’s license to match each one, I would look like a criminal on the lam.

And speaking of lamb, I recommend it … with mint jelly.

 

Agoraphobia

Words from Dic(tionary)

dictionary with letter AAgoraphobia: (n) extreme or irrational fear of crowded spaces or enclosed public places.

I think I have claustrophobia.

I didn’t used to–even though the brief time that I played football, I didn’t particularly care for pileups, where people would be on top of me.

But agoraphobia‘s different. Within the spectrum of being frightened of experiencing a lack of room and oxygen is also a fear of people. Matter of fact, we start it pretty young, don’t we?

  • We tell our children not to talk to strangers.
  • Within the first few years of their lives, we cloister them in an atmosphere with no more than five to seven people, making a trip to the grocery store seem like a perilous journey through the jungle.
  • We coddle our offspring and project our apprehension into them upon entering school–so much so that many of them do not recover from their agonizing trepidation of interacting with people their own age. They can become misfits.

I guess what concerns me is that a little bit of agoraphobia is inhabiting everybody in this country. Statistics tell me that about 34% of the people who walk down the street holding a phone are pretending they have a phone call, so as to not have to interact with others.

Not only is it annoying to text when other people are around, but it may leave you totally debilitated and vacant of the desire to be close.

I admit, it can be frightening to make eye contact with other humans, but the absence of that gesture of openness neither alleviates danger nor promotes congeniality.

There are probably people who suffer from this condition, but I do think we are changing the definition of the word “fellowship” in our society. It is now a keystroke on Facebook, with twenty-four characters expressing how handsome we think some child is or how pretty a new little dress may be. In fact, my oldest son told me that Facebook is the new church of America. He said it with certainty and a bit of resignation.

If it’s a church, I’m curious about where God is, where love is, where hope is and where faith can grow. Because to merely admire someone’s new bowling ball is not to strike up a new friendship.

I know I’ve veered off the subject a bit, and perhaps the condition of “agoraphobia” is a worthy topic for a writer and thinker much brighter than myself.

But I do believe we can avoid becoming frightened of each other by choice. To do so, we will have to come away from our computer screens, our smart phones and actually look into each other’s eyes again … and risk what we see.

Agent Orange

Words from Dic(tionary)

dictionary with letter AAgent Orange: (n) a defoliant chemical used by the U.S. during the Vietnam war

I don’t trust the press.

I don’t trust the government.

I’m a child of the 60’s.

What is the problem with mistrusting the government and the press? They seem to control almost everything. It puts me in danger of not trusting anything.

Matter of fact, many people my age have rejected spirituality because it appears to be a heavenly government with a press corps, promoting the Bible.

This is what I think about when I hear the words, “Agent Orange:”

As a kid I went to school, had friends, flirted with girls, tried to play football and attempted to keep my grades high enough that I didn’t get kicked out of the National Honor Society while all the time my government was spewing poison all over the countryside of Vietnam, which not only killed vegetation but also ended up destroying human life.

By the time I discovered it, along with everyone else in the country, we were already in the midst of an elongated conflict which ended up costing the lives of hundreds of thousands of people.

To achieve what? A Vietnam which is now united under one government–basically Marxist–which after all these decades, is accepted by our nation as a friendly and fertile climate for commerce.

What can we learn from the Agent Orange stupidity that exists in all aspects of our society? What are we trying to defoliate today, which in the future will become acceptable and those who live long enough to walk in that future time will look back to wonder “what in the hell we were thinking?”

There are three things you must have if you’re a human being:

  1. A sense of history. Try not to repeat the stupid stuff.
  2. An enjoyment of the present. Today’s all we’ve got.
  3. An eye on the future. In other words, what is this going to look like in twenty years?

If we had thought that way, many of us would never have worn lime-green leisure suits … and probably would have avoided any agent that was called orange.

Agenda

Words from Dic(tionary)

dictionary with letter AAgenda: (n) 1. a list of items or subjects to be considered at a meeting 2. determination of a program of action

  • Republicans want less government.
  • Democrats want more government.
  • Conservatives want to conserve.
  • Liberals want to be more liberal in their choices.
  • Baptists want to baptize.
  • Catholics want to take care of their religious obligation.
  • Buddhists want to meditate.
  • Bankers want to make money.
  • Wall Street wants to make money and also take it away from others.
  • Women want equal rights.
  • Men want sex rights.
  • Children want to play.
  • Drug dealers want to sell their product.
  • Politicians want your vote.
  • Actors want a job and praise.
  • Singers want applause and to sing.
  • Old people want more health care.
  • Young people want more fun.
  • Sailors want a boat.
  • Pilots want a plane.
  • Soldiers want action and their pay.
  • Hippies want peace.
  • Jews want Jerusalem.
  • Muslims want Jerusalem–without Jews.
  • Terrorists want their demands.
  • Dogs want a bone.
  • Cats want to do whatever they want to do.
  • Football players want a touchdown.
  • Baseball players want a homer.
  • A hockey player wants his teeth.

In a world where everybody has an agenda, we must understand that we are at the mercy of the ploys of society–UNLESS we are aware of the aspirations of others and try our best to arrive on the scene without too many pre-conceived ideas.

Is it possible to have an agenda to not have an agenda?

Doesn’t that just make you a contradiction in terms?

Aerosol

Words from Dic(tionary)

dictionary with letter AAerosol: (n) a substance enclosed under pressure and able to be released as a fine spray, typically by means of a propellant gas.

It was called Right Guard. It was a man’s deodorant.

So many of my buddies who played football with me sprayed the stuff in the locker room that I felt I could just walk through, flap my arms and meet my deodorant need–because even though you aimed it directly at your pit area, it sprayed in a three-foot circumference, creating a great “cloud of witness” and confirmation of your sweet odor.

Another nice thing is that because it was in a spray can–aerosol–you could aim it at nooks and crannies on your body which shall remain nameless for the sake of propriety.

At the tail end of my showering experience with members of my own gender, it was suddenly discovered that these aerosol cans were polluting the environment, and were perhaps even dangerous for us to inhale repeatedly, threatening lethal conclusions.

So another great pleasure of Americana was ripped away by researchers who think a white coat is stylish.

We started using roll-ons. Speed stick.

It may have been at that point that some of the backbone that is supposed to be fused into the male of our species was removed–because once you start putting on girly deodorant instead of walking around in a purple haze of Right Guard, you begin to deteriorate in your confidence to be a stud.

Of course, this is just a theory.

  • Maybe Richard Nixon wouldn’t have wimped out and lied about Watergate if he was still spraying his underarms.
  • Or maybe our football team would have actually had a winning season if we weren’t putting creamy stuff in our pit hair.
  • Maybe men would be able to communicate better with women if they felt that all their hidden parts  were being “Right Guard-ed.”
  • Maybe women wouldn’t be so dissatisfied with their lives with men if the bathroom had TWO deodorants instead of the couple sharing an “ice-blue Secret.”

I know it’s ridiculous–but it’s also absolutely frivolous and stupid to think that everything on earth does not have SOME mission to kill us, if misused.

For instance, give me a bathroom spray that explodes with a gas of beautiful odor instead of trickling out after I get done using the pot. I want the whole room to smell like flowers, so no one will exactly know what I did in there.

(I also like Right Guard because it’s the position I played on the team.)

Acronym

Words from Dic(tionary)

by J. R. Practix

dictionary with letter AAcronym: (n.) a word formed from the first letters of other words. e.g.: radar, laser

I think you have to go back to the old rotary phone. It used to be really fun to come up with acronyms  by using your telephone number, looking at the letters that were available under each numeral and coming up with a spelling for your company or organization.

Acronyms used to be so popular. It was a way of remembering answers for tests. You would select an acronym, and each letter would represent an answer for your test, and the word would stimulate your memory for the answer. (As you can see, it’s actually easier to apply than to explain…)

For a while, preachers used acronyms a lot to illustrate their sermons in an attempt to get people to remember the points past the parking lot, to where they picked up the box of chicken, to go home and watch football.

Then somewhere along the line they became hokey. They became laughable.

I think it’s based around what I refer to as my “layer theory:”

  • Things remain cool as long as cool people are doing them. it doesn’t really matter WHAT they do–just that people we have decided are really superb and special do them.
  • Then the friends of those cool people start doing the trend, creating a second layer. It still remains cool at that point, but a whole lot more common.
  • At that point, the relatives of the friends of the cool people start putting into practice this popular gizmo. Then it becomes so average and everyday that we all kind of smile when somebody does it, but we’re really hoping that soon it will stop.
  • Finally, the enemies of the relatives of the friends of the cool people start picking up on the practice. At this point, all the comedians in the country, all the sane individuals, and everybody who is sick to death of the new idea that has now become like used Kleenex, begin to mock and make fun of what was once considered to be the hippest thing in the world.

It is an American evolution–and acronyms are very near the point of being bombarded.

So if you have an acronym you still want to put forth, do it very quickly–and be prepared to remove it with just as much haste. Because I think we’re really on the verge of acronyms becoming the butt of every joke:

B.U.T.T.– Better Understand Tomorrow’s Trend.

Acrobat

Words from Dic(tionary)

by J. R. Practix

dictionary with letter AAcrobat: (n.) an entertainer who performs gymnastic feats.

I had a flash-back.

When I was in high school, so many bronze ages ago, it was mandatory to take two years of physical education. I put them off until my junior and senior years. (I don’t know if I was hoping for a lazy state legislature to repeal the law, or perhaps that the gymnasium would collapse from the onslaught of a Midwest tornado, but I delayed.)

I was a big, fat boy. I liked to play sports until it became obvious that it was exercise. Does that make sense? In other words, if you wanted to go out and throw the football around or shoot some hoops, I was there. But if you were gonna line up and purposefully use your muscles in a way that produced exertion and perspiration with no immediate pay-off of sinking a basket or tackling a friend, well … I was rather non-enthusiatic.

ESPECIALLY during the six-week period of physical education when we did gymnastics.

I was no acrobat. I was the kind of person that if I slipped and fell down a hill, it actually appeared that there was a person falling uncontrollably down the hill, as opposed to gracefully tumbling and landing on my feet. Any motion that I took towards the ground ended up in a splat instead of a forward roll.

I hated it.

I tried to get out of it by insisting that my parents were too poor to afford my gym clothes. I even tricked my mom into giving me a note to give to the instructor, telling him that I was physically unable to perform the feats.

It was unsuccessful. Amazingly, these small-town educators saw through my ploys.

The most embarrassing part of it was the fact that there was no privacy. When it was time to tumble, we formed a line which ran in a perpetual circle, so that each person could come and tumble on the mat, regain his feet, and get back into line to do it again, until everybody had done at least FOUR of them.

Some guys were just great. They looked like human Slinkeys. I, on the other hand, looked like play-dough hitting the sidewalk on a very hot day. Rather than rolling, I kind of just spread out all over the mat.

So when I regained my feet, hearing the titters of my friends, I hung back in the line, hoping the teacher did not notice how many forward rolls I had accomplished before the whistle would blow for the next horror. Unfortunately, he preferred to wait until the end, leading me to believe I had pulled off my scam, making me perform my last two somersaults back-to-back, with the whole class reviewing, as if they were East German judges at the Olympics.

Honestly, as I retell this, I am not quite sure how I survived it without resorting to some sort of self-mutilation or abuse of my fellow-students.

But when I see the word acrobat, I have a mingling of great admiration and a chill that goes down my spine, remembering that torturous hour spent, for a six-week period, when my school insisted that I try to take my enormous body and  imitate a thirteen-year-old female gymnast.

Even though I could never approve and am certainly horrified when I hear about school shootings–when someone walks into his classroom and guns everybody down–honestly, I might be a little sympathetic if I found out it was a big fat kid and it was a Phys Ed class during the six weeks … of gymnastics.

Abide

by J. R. Practix

dictionary with letter A

Abide: 1. v.  accept or act in accordance with a rule, decision or recommendation 2. unable to tolerate: “I cannot abide…” 3. of a feeling or memory–continue without fading or being lost

As is often the situation when I hear the definitions for these words, I realize that I have created my own mental dictionary of what things mean, frequently having absolutely no basis.

I always thought “abide” meant to hang around, like three guys on a Saturday afternoon sprawled across the room, telling stories about what they wish they could do, will probably never do, but will insist someday when they’re old that they did.

I thought abiding was what faith, hope and love did because they were built into the woodwork and history of the framework.

Abiding is NOT hanging around. Abiding is hanging in there.

I realize that’s what’s missing from my life, and maybe the lives of many Americans. As long as you want us to just “hang around,” we’re fine. But the minute you define the cause, point out a specific direction or demand a commitment, we put into practice our well-rehearsed list of excuses and go “splitsville.”

Hanging in there is a tough thing.

I remember once playing a football game, and at the end of the first quarter our team was down 32-0. The prospects of victory were slim. We were unable to stop the other team from scoring and only felt satisfaction that we were bolstering their egos and padding their stats. But you see, it was the end of the first quarter. There were three more of them to come. The danger in football is that if you play the game halfway, you’re much more likely to get injured. So it was definite that even though we were going to get smeared, we would have to see the game through to the end.

So we set some small goals. For instance, hiking the ball and handing it off without fumbling. Another one was tackling the opponent before he gained twenty yards. And certainly the most important aspiration that kept us “hanging in there” was to make sure the final score was not 128-0.

We lost the game 64-0, having held them to 32 points in the final three quarters.

Although humiliating, we left the field uninjured and just a little bit tickled that we survived such an absolute cataclysmic event without committing suicide.

Abiding is hanging in there–which only gives us one major goal: find something worthy of our hanging.