I can’t remember where I heard this story, but I always enjoyed what it said and it seems to convey a relevant message about the emotional pain which rips through after yet another agonizing fumble, flag, brain fart - name it. I mean, one of these days, someone (not me, not today!) will have to catalog all of this sports trauma on a timeline with some accompanying video.
But please, only after this bus has finally stopped driving in circles on strange city streets and found the on-ramp to the Finally Learned How To Win Highway.
I’m done asking myself how much more I can take because I found the answer - quite a damn bit. And it’s not complicated. As long these kids and coaches keep swinging, I can keep cheering and I can, to quote our fearless leader, eat some more “feedlot shit”. I’m not saying there won’t be a rant or two, there will. And that’s okay too, because we all need howl at the damn moon and pour ourselves a fresh one sometimes.
And speaking of rants and fearless leaders, if you haven’t treated yourself to this 5 minutes or so of Shakespearian agony after the Minnesota loss, I beg you give it a go:
But anyway, the story with editorial comments of course.:
A boy (I’m guessing a little older because what third grader would talk about this shit?) was sitting down to breakfast with his father and told him in school they were discussing the concepts of contribution and commitment and he was having trouble wrapping his head around the difference between the two.
(No idea what school was pumping this kind of strangeness into their students but if it got the boys thinking about anything besides what their female classmates looked like naked for 10 or 15 seconds, then bully on them. Anyway.)
The dad thought about it and told the boy to take a look at the ham and eggs on his plate. (It’s been years since I had ham and eggs for breakfast but it works. This is an allegory of some sort, right? I prefer sausage, bacon, a chicken-fried steak…dammit, I need to move this along. I AM FECKING STARVING.)
The father said, “Look at the food on your plate. The chicken made a contribution to your breakfast. That pig made a commitment.”
(Glad there was no toast. I have no damn idea what to call what the wheat and flour did.)
Obviously, there’s no deep dive where I’m going with this. I’ve chatted previously how the consistency of the disappointment has been too much for some and I get it. Some have checked out, others are just putting a couple eggs on the plate on game day.
I’m still throwing some meat off the emotional bone into this game (you’re all welcome as hell for any bloody imagery that might have popped into your unsuspecting head) and riding the ensuing pain which comes with it because I still live for game days and the possibilities this 2021 group brings each Saturday. So for everyone who’s still riding this train, let’s do this again with breakfast in mind.
Cheer like a pig today.
See y’all at 2:30 CST.