What Joseph Roberts and Malachi Youngblood pulled at the Super Bowl can be taken two ways by the authorities. They, the cops and the NFL, can watch and learn from these two ruffians. Or they can pretend their security measures were perfect. Curiously, the students worried it would sully the name of their school, Savannah State University. (After the pair sneaked into the Super Bowl. . . Snuck into the Super Bowl?)
I just discovered the brother of a friend from elementary school is playing in the Super Bowl. I knew him as whiny, loud, and small, but not anymore. That is not the only surprise of the day. This commercial for Ram Trucks with Paul Harvey’s voice-over about a “Farmer” is quite stirring:
And on the eighth day, God looked down on his planned paradise and said, “I need a caretaker.” So God made a farmer.
God said, “I need somebody willing to get up before dawn, milk cows, work all day in the field, milk cows again, eat supper, then go to town and stay past midnight at a meeting of the school board.” So God made a farmer.
God said, “I need somebody willing to sit up all night with a newborn colt and watch it die, then dry his eyes and say,’Maybe next year,’ I need somebody who can shape an ax handle from an ash tree, shoe a horse with hunk of car tire, who can make a harness out hay wire, feed sacks and shoe scraps. Who, during planting time and harvest season will finish his 40-hour week by Tuesday noon and then, paining from tractor back, put in another 72 hours.” So God made the farmer.
God said, “I need somebody strong enough to clear trees and heave bales, yet gentle enough to yean lambs and wean pigs and tend the pink-comb pullets, who will stop his mower for an hour to splint the leg of a meadowlark.”
It had to be somebody who’d plow deep and straight and not cut corners. Somebody to seed, weed, feed, breed, and brake, and disk, and plow, and plant, and tie the fleece and strain the milk, . Somebody who’d bale a family together with the soft, strong bonds of sharing, who would laugh, and then sigh and then reply with smiling eyes when his son says that he wants to spend his life doing what Dad does. “So God made a farmer.”
As previously recounted, I have no business remarking on fashion. But I noticed two clothes-y stories circulating in the media about both the Super Bowl teams, the Giants and the Patriots. First up, the Pats with their Uggs, courtesy of Tom Brady:
Patriots practice squad linebacker Markell Carter devised a plan to overcome these horrid circumstances.
When he woke up Tuesday morning, he slipped on a pair of UGGs.
“I got to walk around for about an hour and a half, two hours,” Markell Carter said.
“I got to talk. I got to do all this. I got to at least have my feet comfortable.”
Carter opted with a pair of gray UGGs for the event.
Teammate and UGGs spokesman Tom Brady made Carter’s color choice a harder decision than one would imagine.
Okay, so for the Pats, some comfy shoe, slippery thing. I like ’em, to blog in. Not to be prancing ’round the field, near some clumsy O-liner. Those corn-fed boys will crunch my toesies. Anything rougher than this-little-piggy, you can count me out.
Next up, the Giants and Victor Cruz’s creation, the Young Whales:
In the summer of 2010, Cruz and fellow Giants rookie Nate Collins (now with the Jaguars) bonded over their passion for fashion.
They did some research, and by April they had started a company with initial investments of $5,000 each. By September, the duo designed their first line of clothes and were ready to sell online.
“I love it,” Cruz says. “I’ve always wanted to be involved in fashion and have my own clothing line and do some things like that. And now that I’m able to have one, it’s amazing.”
The line’s name, Young Whales, plays on the term “whale” being a high-stakes casino gambler. NFL fans might see some familiar faces on the company’s website.
Starting on a low budget, Cruz and fellow Giants wide receiver Ramses Barden were two of the original models.
Now that is some gear to blog in, t’s and Uggies. Me likey. . .
Ryan Clark sat down in Mike Tomlin’s office and did something a little out of character for the normally verbose Pittsburgh Steelers safety. He listened.
And when Tomlin told Clark he couldn’t play in Sunday’s wild card game at Denver because of a sickle-cell trait that becomes aggravated when playing at higher elevations, Clark just shrugged his shoulders and nodded.
Ryan had some blood-work done this week and it yielded surprising results. I had a spy in the lab and got some advance intel. Fresh from under the microscope, here’s an actual picture of the bloody slide:
Just kidding, obviously. The sickle cell trait is serious:
People who inherit one sickle cell gene and one normal gene have sickle cell trait. That’s compared to people who inherit one sickle cell gene from each parent, who may get sickle cell anemia, the most severe form of sickle cell disease.
People with the trait usually do not have the symptoms of sickle cell disease, but they might experience complications of the disease, such as pain crises, which occur when the sickled cell becomes stuck in the blood vessel, causing painful swelling. In rare cases, people with the trait can face harm when they’re dehydrated, in an atmosphere with increased pressure – like when scuba diving – or when they are in areas with high altitude and low oxygen.
Stay healthy, Ryan. Since it is not quite the Super Bowl, but still a very important game, fans (well, one fan, me) have taken to calling it the Super Soy Sauce Bowl. You know, one of these tiny things:
Class is the word and the word is good. Case in point: two pro football stories to warm your lazy, Friday afternoon heart.
So the first classy nod goes to our beloved Sandy Eggo (San Diego to non-locals.) A Chargers’ food server is busy plying her craft in the stands and she trips. Yikes, her hands are stuffed with money! Not anymore. Poor Heather Allison showered a whole section, and the section below her, with greenbacks. I wonder what the response was:
Instead of doing the full-on “Ocean’s Eleven” money grab, the fans’ first instinct was to let everyone in the vicinity know just whose money it was.
“All my customers began screaming over the railing to the people below: ‘That’s the server’s money,'” Allison, a mother of four and full-time student, recalled. Club level fans started collecting the money in their section, as did the field level patrons.
As for the second story, stay seated, I’ll set it up for you. (If you are jewelry-conscious, you may require an assist from your hankie.) Imagine you are a Super Bowl winner and you get to parade around town with your monstrous ring. But a tragedy occurs: you lose it! When you are surfing, in Hawaii no less:
A phone call from 4,957 miles away solved a four decade-old football riddle.
John Schmitt, starting center in the New York Jets dramatic win over the Baltimore Colts in Super Bowl III in 1969, was given a championship ring for his part in arguably the must important upset in NFL history.
A few years later, while on vacation in Hawaii, Schmitt took his first surfing lesson off Waikiki Beach. After being in the water for over five hours, his prized ring fell off about a quarter-mile off shore in the Pacific Ocean.
Well, that’s it football fans. The mustard’s off the hot dogs (and in your bellies), the blazing field lights are turned down, and the tailgates are slammed up. Here’s wishing that your favorite football team (college or pro) plays like money this weekend. . .