It tends to be that men enjoy playing with balls at all times in their life. Young men, old men, and some in-between men love to give a toss to the ole spheres. Some men are forced to play with only one forlorn ball but wherever there is a ball, especially a tennis ball, there will be a man playing with that ball. We have to bounce it or throw at someone’s head. When boredom strikes we tend to be at our most creative being able to make sport out of the most inane things.
My older cousin Kevin invented some awesome ‘bouncing a ball down the stairs’ game that was a hit in my youth. He also invented a game whereas my brother would throw me onto thin ice so some of his games are suspect. The whole family would create oddball games as well as the most infamous which was “stick tire”. It involves a tire hurtling down a hill with the player or future paraplegic attempting to stop said tire. Yeah, it’s either pure genius or pure white trash or one of these special moments when pure white trash genius collide into sports perfection.
A couple of weeks ago we were playing cards and for the first time in a long while, I was destroying and my deadbeat bros were crying so they decided they were bored and Dan wanted to fly his helicopter. After he crashed it 10 times we spied a tennis ball in the corner. Had we known that this seemingly simple ball would unleash a series of events with painful limbs and shoutfests galore, this would have been a path we would’ve avoided at all cost.
We were soon diving all over the place and incessantly arguing the finer points such as: “Is the satellite cable out or would that constitute a redo?, If the edge of the rug cataclysmically alters the trajectory of the ball who’s point is that and should a cup-check be administered?, and finally, “why do you hit like a girl and keep landing lucky shots you little tart!” I ended up slamming my knee into a potted plant and everyone had rug burns on their elbows. The next time as a party was winding down we started hitting around a balloon which led to setting up chairs for a net. If you can imagine the absurdity of grown men crouching down low as the opposing team served then yelling at each other as if we were negotiating surrender. It’s a dangerous world when a ball is involved and men are standing around looking at it. Boredom and balls has lead to more injuries and wars then fights over money, women, or beers could ever conjure. Gentlemen guard your balls.
My older cousin Kevin invented some awesome ‘bouncing a ball down the stairs’ game that was a hit in my youth. He also invented a game whereas my brother would throw me onto thin ice so some of his games are suspect. The whole family would create oddball games as well as the most infamous which was “stick tire”. It involves a tire hurtling down a hill with the player or future paraplegic attempting to stop said tire. Yeah, it’s either pure genius or pure white trash or one of these special moments when pure white trash genius collide into sports perfection.
A couple of weeks ago we were playing cards and for the first time in a long while, I was destroying and my deadbeat bros were crying so they decided they were bored and Dan wanted to fly his helicopter. After he crashed it 10 times we spied a tennis ball in the corner. Had we known that this seemingly simple ball would unleash a series of events with painful limbs and shoutfests galore, this would have been a path we would’ve avoided at all cost.
We were soon diving all over the place and incessantly arguing the finer points such as: “Is the satellite cable out or would that constitute a redo?, If the edge of the rug cataclysmically alters the trajectory of the ball who’s point is that and should a cup-check be administered?, and finally, “why do you hit like a girl and keep landing lucky shots you little tart!” I ended up slamming my knee into a potted plant and everyone had rug burns on their elbows. The next time as a party was winding down we started hitting around a balloon which led to setting up chairs for a net. If you can imagine the absurdity of grown men crouching down low as the opposing team served then yelling at each other as if we were negotiating surrender. It’s a dangerous world when a ball is involved and men are standing around looking at it. Boredom and balls has lead to more injuries and wars then fights over money, women, or beers could ever conjure. Gentlemen guard your balls.
