The Short Arm of the Law or 3 Hots and a Cot...NOT!

It all started quite calmly with Benjamin and me going to the UofA football game. First game of the season, excitement in the air, anticipation you could cut with a knife! We wound up getting there too late for Ben's friends tailgating so we had to make do with the poptarts we lifted from the treat closet. Though being too late for tailgating, we were in my fine season-ticket seats a full hour before game time. Finally the Mighty Vandals of the University of Idaho from Moscow, Idaho (pronounced moscoe, Moss-Cow is in Russia) were putting the ball on the tee to kick off the brand-spanking new football season. But no, before the guy could kick the ball, the referees started shooing the players off the field. What the... Then the announcer guy says "Please evacuate the stadium, there has been a lightning strike close by so everyone go to your cars or seek shelter." Huh? I didn't hear thunder or anything. Perhaps I was distracted by the pom-pom people or something, I don't know. I told Ben that there's no way they can get the 45,000 or so of us to leave the bleeding stadium. Especially the students with their Zona Zoo tickets and bellies full of beer. Announcer guy says "Please leave the stadium, you will be allowed to re-enter with your ticket stubs." "Leave now or stay at your own risk." Your own risk eh? I figure if I get struck by lightning at my age, it's God's way of telling me "You've lived a good life, come to my arms my beemish boy!" "Oh, framshous day!" "Calooo, Calay!" Though I make a rather formidable target, I'll take my chances. Down we both sit. Soon the rain comes and brings with it a County Mountie who tells us we have to leave. "No." I say, "The guy said, stay at your own risk so I am." "You have to leave," says Mr Gestapo. "No." I repeat, "I've lived long enough to be willing to take my chances." "You have to leave." "Really?" "Really." "What about that stay-at-your-own-risk thingie?" "You have to leave." By this time Ben has left. I sit down and say "What are you going to do, arrest me?" "Do you want to be arrested?" says Sir Stormtrooper. "Not especially," says I. "I'm asking you nicely to leave," says Sgt Schultz . "I'm telling you nicely I'm not going anywhere," says I, doing some quick math to figure how many of them it's going to take to haul my 275 lb butt from the front row of the upper tier and up the steps then out of the stadium. I decide it would be more than they were willing to call in from the rest of the stadium or cave or wherever they come from. "If we take you out, you can't come back in." Ouch! He got me with that one. I did come to see a game after all. I guess watching the game would be better than three hots and a cot at the County dungeon. When I got where Ben was he said that he was talking to his Mom and she said she wouldn't come bail me out of jail.

Now it was raining, really RAINING. Like the proverbial cow passing water on a flat rock. Pitchforks, hoe-handles, cats, dogs, goats, javalina, wildebeasts, boa-constrictors, RAIN! Mr. hobnail boots must have thought he might melt so he left and I went back to my seat to wait for 30-minutes-with-no-lightning so they could re-start the game. The kick-off was a little over an hour late but, sweet Himmler's handbag, what a game! The score at halftime was 49-0 in favor of Arizona. To start the second half Coach Stoops benched all the starters to see what the back-ups could do, and they did. Fourth quarter, third string, two pom-pom people, and a flag twirler went in. They still picked off two passes and made the final score 70-0. Before the game Idaho was ranked 119th of 119 teams but I don't think that's fair. They should have been 125th. So much for the Alma Mater of our possible Vice President.