The 'End' Run

This was football at it's very best. Into the daylight--around the end-through the maze-around men standing their ground -daring the run to go through them-but around and back into the daylight. More obstascles in front-but around again-wait-surely the forward progress would now be stopped-but a feint to the left and right and around the end and into daylight agin. This 'run ' was not for faint of heart-wait -feint a gain to the left then quick feint to the right-open daylight again. Left and right and forward and back and then left and right again-so far untouched in the open field. 'Goal' now in sight. Head on in. Head on in.
Exhausted but the 'Goal' reached. I actually had to 'steady myself-out of breath and actually slightly faint from all the 'feint'.
Actually true-every word you have just read-actually true.
What you have read is an 'actually true-so true-story-- about me and the football stadium this last Sunday-not back 'in the day' of long ago glorious time-- this Sunday past. Me in the open field-exhibiting running skills of great 'feint' and almost faint.
That was a -' truelife description' of myself and dear friend Dick Piggot running from our parked car-through the parking lot filled with cars and people and outdoor grills and little kids and drunken young men who thought this was thje 'time of their lives--and so that was , maybe, so.
We covered the ground like two very old men- Dick still recovering from 'open Heart' surgery , early in the year, and limping a bit , as well, and me limping a lotta' bit.
We made it. Whew--we made it.
I looked round the stands. Hey I was one of the original Jet fans. yes I was-.Had season tickets right from the start-. I looked to see some of the old 'originals'. Didn't want to be the oldest fan in Jet Town.
In front of me seven seats to my left. I can only describe this way. He looked like someone who had been picked up off the street of 42nd. Long mangled beard-unkempt hair-yes o.k-he looked a wee bit like me. He had some beers to drink. He kept getting up to go to the bathroom.
In front of me was said this "Why did this 'old coot ' even come to the game he has spent the majority of the game in the John" ?
Well that 'old coot' made my day.
In the last quarter of ,perhaps the worst football game I ever seen, Dick clapped his hands-I recognize the signal-Dick has been kind enough to take me to several games over the years-he clapped his hands "lets go" !!!
That meant head for the 'open field' and so we reversed our earlier course of the day.
I went to bed early and slept quite late.
It felt like I had been run over by seventy-make that sixty-make that fifty-- well maybe about forty thousand Jet fans. That is about how many showed up to see the 'contest'. Well it really wasn't a contest' but rather an exhibition' of men running aound pointlessly with no rhyme or reason and giving the fans an opportunity to 'boo' in many differnt tones and languages.
Well I have to say that this was perhaps 'my end run'.
Unless the 'old coot' calls and asks me come and hold his beer cans or something.
Perhaps the 'end' of my run.
Somehow sitting around the T.V. set with my boys around me seems ,now, to be a 'safer' choice.
But Dick --I thank so kindly for the memorys.