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Show ,,'1 . i t 1 As the Ball (Bounc ! something perennial that seemed j familiar yet refreshing. I pondered for a moment and realized what it was. A vision began to unfold before my eyes. I realized that football season was only a few weeks away. Now, don't get me wrong. I enjoy en-joy the six or seven simultaneous golf broadcasts that constantly clog the summer airwaves as much as anyone. But just beyond the summer heat, just around the next comer, there awaits the most thrilling thrill-ing three weeks of the year-the beginning of football season. (I say three weeks because it does get old after a while, right about the time I start getting excited for basketball, oddly enough.) But anyway, it's almost football season. The anticipation is enough to kill anyone. On that cool July morning, I could hear the roar of stadiums packed to capacity and the crunch of shoulder pad and muscle col- 1 liding at full speed. j The electrifying sensation of the ( last split second before the opening kickoff ran through my body in that i ' instant.. .and then the vision faded. j I was left to sweat and curse the merciless summer heat. I guess the J moral of the story is that soon, if we , are patient and endure to the end, ! the hot, sultry breezes of summer will begin to cool and ring with the excitement and cheers of millions of football fans. Now, if that doesn't get you excited, ex-cited, you probably deserve to be hot, tired and bored. Then again, I may be wrong, but that's the way the ball bounces. By G.B. HART So, you're hot, tired and bored are you? Got the late summer blues, eh? Well, even though it's no consolation, con-solation, you're not alone. But there is hope. Yes, an annual beacon of hope begins to flicker faintly beyond the horizon of despair... What the heck am I talking about, you ask? Well, it happened like this: The day started out much like any other. I awoke clinging to the edge of the bed trying desperately not to take any more room than the one-eighth portion my wife graciously allotted me when we got married. Unable to secure enough space to comfortably await the inevitable sounding of the alarm clock, I was obliged to start my day a little earlier than expected. The night had been overcast, making our apartment unbearably hot and muggy. I was up an hour earlier than I wanted to be, but I was determined to have a good day. Needless to say, it looked grim. I showered, shaved, ate my corn flakes and was out the door. Then it happened. On July 18 at 7:15 a.m., I was bom again, saved from my summer purgatory. As I left my apartment, the earth was quiet and peaceful. An unusually unusual-ly cool breeze tousled my hair. There was something strangely familiar fa-miliar about the whole scene. Yes, there was something invigorating invig-orating and new in the air, |
