Halloween. Oh boy, it is once again just around the corner. My kids are now old enough where it should not be as big a deal as it once was. They are 14 and 16, so I assume I will not be forced to ride them around neighborhoods, where they can then extort candy from people they know well, since no one randomly goes to neighborhoods where they don’t know anyone anymore.
Back in the good old days, kids went trick-or-treating unchaperoned, without fear of ending up on a milk carton or eating an apple with razor blades stuffed within it. To tell you the truth, I don’t know if there has ever really been a case of a razor-stuffed apple, but I lived in fear of such a thing most of my young life. Thus, I ate Fireballs and Sweet Tarts instead. It is hard to stuff a razor in a Sweet Tart.
I am glad to be past the dreaded “What costume should I wear to trick or treat in?” stage. At least I think I am past all that. Who knows, the 14-year-old boy may yet dress up like something really scary to him, maybe a responsible adult or someone who actually remembers to take the trash out before the garbage truck is roaring down the road to the next house. I have thought about dressing up myself, just for old time’s sake. Actually, I have no old time’s sake, as I never went trick-or-treating as a child. Yes, I could write a book about my deprived childhood. It was the best of times, it was … never mind. I think that has already been taken.
We lived in the country, and it would have taken me 30 minutes to walk to the next neighbor’s house. And when I got there, they would have given me a banana or some pecans from their yard trees. Because of this deprivation, I try to eat candy daily.
But I do think I will go trick-or-treating this year as the guy who stands behind Kirby Smart, puts his hand down the back side of his pants and pulls him off the field every play. I know Kirby is a Bulldog coach, but he looks like a dog on a leash that is trying to stretch it too far and the owner is pulling him back. I have had many lowly jobs in my illustrious career, including working the 11-at-night-until-7-in-the-morning shift at a convenience store. How I am still alive I do not know except if someone came to rob me they could have whatever they wanted ‘cause it wasn’t my money.
But is there any position lower on the coaching totem pole than “sideline coach’s in-bounds monitor?” First of all, how hard is it for the coach to just stay inside the giant white line separating him from the field? And I know the University of Georgia football program has plenty of money, but do they need to pay somebody to tether the football coach? “I’m sorry, son, we have to terminate your scholarship. The money has to go to make sure Coach Smart does not barrel out onto the field. He is like an unmoored blimp.”
It may just be me, but I don’t want to be on the sidelines for 3 1/2 hours with my hands down the back of some guy’s pants. Here is a coach who tells his players, “Why don’t you listen to what I tell you? Don’t field a punt inside the 10-yard line. Step out of bounds if there is less than two minutes to play and no timeouts, etc.” But then he can’t stay disciplined enough to stay off the field without some guy that looks like he might try out for the next A-team movie as Mr. T pulling on him?
Oh well, I’ve got my outfit, if I can just find someone to be Coach Smart. But I’m wearing a glove.