We have all done it. Step onto the front porch and beat our chests with some nebulous declaration that “I’m gonna” or “I’m never gonna” usually in response to some issue that invokes more than a little emotion on a personal level. As an example, not too many years ago, I offered the declaration to Sharon that we were quickly running out of closet space as a result of her penchant for shoes. She smiled at my admonition, and as wives are want to do, responded by suggesting we adjourn to the closet and take inventory of each other’s shoe collections. I was brimming with confidence as we began our accounting and was deeply chagrined to note the final count revealed the shocking revelation that I owned more shoes than her. “How do you want your crow”, she asked, “boiled, fried or blackened”? Nice!
There have been other noteworthy crow buffets. The lack of factual reporting and abundance of editorializing in our local newspaper resulted in my cancelling our subscription mid year. A lifetime habit of reading a paper with coffee and ridiculously low subscription prices led me back a year later, though the offerings in the paper are still far more opinion than fact. Abandoning the NFL was easy. Players beating the daylights out of their women, drugs and a lack of respect for this country providing them with untold opportunity and riches, constituted the straw that broke the camel’s back. I found other entertainment opportunities on Sunday afternoon and was quite content. It was easy to ignore this league, that is until an upstart quarterback named Mahomes made his appearance. Would I love to go back and watch the Babe smack one out after a night of drinking and partying? Would I love to watch Koufax launch a curve ball that had the first baseman ducking? I remember the kid from Louisville named Clay that was the picture of grace and destruction in the ring. Looking back, I would have loved to watch him in his prime someplace besides pay for view. Several of my friends go back, way back and can tell of watching the greats play ball, counting themselves among those lucky enough to actually see it happen. Mahomes is that kind of talent. Quarterbacks that can thread a needle, casually tossing footballs with precision across their body, left handed are rare. Very rare. Especially when they are right handed!
My friend arthritis, Arty for short, has introduced me to a young, ripped pain management doctor named Chuckwudi Obiora Chiaghana, who strides into the procedure room to deliver a series of unpleasant injections into my lower spine. Dr. Chuks, as he is called, sports the New York Giants logo on his brilliant blue lead apron. He is animated and, as might be expected from a guy who routinely sticks long needles into your back, supremely confident. We talked a little football before he reached for a needle that looked like a piece of rebar. (Okay, I didn’t have my glasses on.) He stopped and smiled broadly at the mention of young Mahomes, and declared that should he stay healthy, he would blister the league like no other, ever. The doc wasn’t merely effusive, he was adoring. He is, of course, correct in his analysis. The question is, am I going to let a few over paid, wife beating substance abusers keep me from watching this kid on Sunday afternoons? I think not. Key the crow.
There is more. Mahomes attracts talent. Fabulously gifted cornerbacks Bashad Breeland and Morris Claiborne, safety Tyrann Matthieu, and others are coming to play for the Chiefs. They sense this kid can take them to the big bowl. Players coach, Andy Reid, must be pinching himself hourly at the prospects of coaching these guys. This is starting to look like a very good year in the kingdom, and I intend to be along for the ride. I think I can hold my nose at the antics of the rest of the overpaid, egomaniacal, confused folks who are hell bent on squandering their physical gifts and buckets of money protesting matters they could not explain if their lives depended on it.
In short, I am all in. There is a box of Mahomes Magic Crunch on my bookshelf, acquired in a late night run by Sharon to HyVee. The Crunch is a little easier to choke down than crow, tasting exactly like the Frosted Flakes said to be Mahomes’ favorite cereal. Finally, my new connection with this young quarterback is much deeper than corn flakes. He owns over 180 pairs of shoes, something history has shown that I know something about……
Yes, I am back.
Have a great weekend.
One thought on “Eating Crow……”
Your Doc is also mine.
LikeLiked by 1 person