My children must be rubbing off on me because I have the attention span of a kindergartener. I attended the University of Mary Marauders Homecoming football game this afternoon (gotta love free tickets for alum!) and beyond the first few plays, I didn't see much of the game.
Truthfully, it could have been because the Marauders were getting thumped (who knew a bulldog could dominate a pirate?), but there are so many things to grab your attention...or at least grab my attention.
For instance, the periodic booms from the pep band. Well, mainly the trombone player who painted his instrument with blue and orange stripes. That's just good fun.
The shimmery pom poms, flips and pyramids kept my gaze on the cheerleaders now and then. And the unique aspect that there was only one male cheerleader. It was kinda odd.
And don't even get me started on the fashion. Well, okay, let's do get started on the fashion. It kept me from even noticing we'd made another first down, after all.
A mohawk. A big mohawk. Dyed orange. Yeah, that was an attention-getter. Goal attained, my friend.
The array of orange t-shirts printed with various school 'spirit.' One caused me to wonder what their parents would have said about them sporting that particular tee. Frankly, it just isn't right to degrade dear Dr. Suess.
The thick knee-high socks dyed blue & orange. Well, those didn't look terrible, they just made me hot. It was waaaay too warm of a day to be donning socks of any kind.
And speaking of being warm...oh. my. goodness. It is unseasonably warm for September in North Dakota - mid 80s is toasty here. Definitely not the day for black suit and collar attire. Poor Father Shea! The action on the gridiron paled in comparison to the fascination I had with watching that man stand on the sidelines for the entire first half waiting for him to drop to his death from heatstroke. No wonder he got the job. Put him on the hot seat, and he's cool as ice. I thought he had to be the bravest (or craziest?) guy at the game, until...
The Texas Roadhouse armadillo strolled by.
I understand the need for advertising, but that guy better be pulling double-time pay or gaining a promotion for that kind of duty. There's just something incredibly inhumane about being forced to wear a mascot costume of that magnitude in the afternoon heat.
For heaven's sake, throw the costume down on the running track as apparent roadkill and race to the locker room for a cool shower, dude!
So between watching the yardage count on the State Farm sign and the blue and orange-painted shirtless guy, I had great difficulty keeping my eyes focused on the latest penalty flag or even who had the ball. Maybe the 35-0 score had something to do with my lack of interest, too.
Call me a fair-weather Marauder fan, but I exited at the end of the 3rd quarter. After all, the painted guy's colors were starting to run, and the cheerleaders weren't tossing t-shirts into the stands anymore.
And Father Shea was no where to be found.
Probably at home stripped to his skivvies and downing a cold beverage, vowing to make his next proclamation as President to move Homecoming to late November.