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Go Team!

So I finally did it. I went to a highschool football game. I wanted to see this spectacle for myself. I wanted to see the hard hits and the screams. I wanted to see the foul language and the spitting. I wanted to see sweaty people scratch themselves in front of a crowd. I wasn't disappointed. Not only did I see all these things, but there was a football game down on the field!

I didn't watch much of the game, my wife said the son of one of our friends was playing or cheering or something. Anyway, whatever they were doing was down on the field. The stuff I wanted to watch was up in the stands. That's where the real show is.

As you know by now, I am a huge people watcher. I can spend hours observing people. I learned that day that there are numerous types of officials at a highschool football game. Most of these officials aren't on the field, they're sitting beside me up in the stands.

First there is the referee. He's that guy sitting in the middle of the stands eating a hotdog, dripping chili down the jacket of the guy in front of him. You can tell the referee because he has acute sight. This guy's vision makes Superman look like Mr McGoo. I have always heard that referees had sorry eyesight. Not the one eating the hotdog in the stands. No sir, he may be fifty yards from the play, but he can clearly see someone step out of bounds. He's also first to claim knowledge of possession even though there are ten people on top of the ball sixty yards down the field.

Now, our friend the referee has his own cheering squad. I call them the Halloweenies. You can tell the Halloweenie squad from their incessant yelling of boo at odd times throughout the game. They too are sitting in the stands consuming hotdog treats while helping the referee officiate the game. Should the referees down on the field disagree with our stand referee his cheering squad immediately start yelling boo. I heard more boos that night watching one game than all my 35 years of trick or treating.

Next, we have the optometrist. No, I didn't misspell optimist. These people are in definite need of glasses. No matter if we are being thrashed 47 to nothing, these idiots are watching for the big play. They stand there and cheer for the team no matter if there is only seven seconds left. That's all nice and fine, but the rest of the week they complain that kids need to live in reality. They tell the kids "one of these days you're going to hit the real world." maybe these people should take some of their own advice. Cheering is fine in the beginning of the game, but at some point the game is lost. If your team has to score two touchdowns a minute for the rest of the game just to tie, pretty much this game is lost. The team knows it, further cheering just makes them feel worse than the losers they already are.

Next, we have the guy who was sitting in front of me. I call him the psychic. He keeps turning around telling me what the team needs to do next. When they did something else (every time) and something went wrong, he would affirm to me that if they had listened to him, they would have scored thirty points on that one play alone. Now if they did something good without taking his advice, he would assure me that they accomplished this in spite of not listening to him. Between plays he would remind me of how much ball he played when he was in school. It must have been baseball because he knew nothing about football. As psychics go, this guy is second only to the weather man.

Finally, we have the announcer. I don't mean the guy up in the box with the microphone. I couldn't understand a word he said anyway. Fortunately I had the lady in the second row that kept me abreast of current happenings out on the field. Each time someone called time out she would announce, "they called time out." When the band went on the field she announced, "the bands going on the field." Howard Cosell had nothing on this lady. But the thing she did most came in the last quarter. We were down 42 to nothing and the other team was already loading their bus. I can't be sure but I think their cheerleaders were playing by this time. Each minute, like a cuckoo clock this lady would announce how much time was left.

Now, we were down 42 to nothing. We hadn't scored in all those minutes previous to this, did this lady actually believe that in the next three minutes we would rally for a comeback? She didn't take enough math in school.

And the cheerleaders, while fun to look at just aren't doing their part. As a cheerleader, your biggest job is to raise spirit! You do this by cheering! Spirit-raising cheers include "We're #1!" (Guess we can't use that one.)

"We've got Spirit!" (Maybe)

"Hooray for Us!" (Way to fall down and drop the ball?)

There's something about cheering for guys to beat the stuffing out of another school's large boys that bring a school together. As a cheerleader, you must cheer your team on to victory! Cheerleaders can often be the difference between victory and defeat! Custer would have won at Bighorn, if he had brought Cheerleaders along.

Now listen, I'm not making fun of our football team, bless their hearts I'm sure they do the best they can. I'm just saying they need all the help they can get. All we have to look forward to, is finding one team worse than us to whip up on for homecoming. But all the hooting and hollering in the stands isn't going to help. But I have a plan! (You knew this was coming didn't you?)

I'm building a blimp! I bought one of those inflatable blimps like car lots use tied to the end of a string to get your attention. I'm putting me a motor on this thing and some remote controls. I'm going to use Christmas lights to write Maynardville.Com on the side of it, and fly it over all our home games.

Now, how does this help? Well, it helps me because I get some advertising out of it. It helps our team because I'll swoop down on the opponents during their plays. I can see it now, their players running up and down the field with a miniature blimp chasing them!

Maybe, I could equip my blimp with big buckets of molasses! Then I can drop molasses on the other team's quarterback. He'd be too sticky to get rid of the ball and our players would stick to him like glue.

Oh, I can see it now! Flies chasing the molasses laden players on the field and my little blimp buzzing around like a huge pregnant nat flashing Maynardville.Com at everyone!

Helium isn't flammable is it? I wouldn't want one of those Hindenburg disasters on the fifty yard line.

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