I was raised in a similar warlike culture. The weather, remoteness, conservatism, and did I mention the weather, of upstate New York are an excellent breeding ground for a warrior class. From an early age of snow shoveling to the rites of passage of hunting, fishing, and cow-tipping. My cohort of warriors and I, pillaged our way through the rugged hills of this primitive backwater. Eventually like all beasts everywhere, we realized the greatest threat to our own kind came not from outside but from "the world's most dangerous animal", our fellow men.
This realization inexorably led us to challenge one another in feats of strength. Faced with the challenges we all strove with the legendary strength of farmboys to out do or rather do in one another. Leading us eventually to the greatest test of a man.....the football field.
Because we didn't have an organized football team from our high school we would play nearly every day after school. It was a wonderful experience.
That said I made a mistake this Thanksgiving morning. No I didn't burn the turkey, I didn't even make one if you'll believe it. Much worse than that I thought I was still in the shape I was at 17. This self-deluding machismo, coupled with the muddy weather made me even more reckless than usual(who doesn't like to dive into mud puddles?). As a result I was flying over the field pushing down anyone I could get my hands on. All was going smoothly until my head met my friend Craig's hip bone.
Now since Craig is about 7'6" and 130 pounds (I think that's like 5 stones for our British readers) he's mostly skin and bones. Unfortunately his skeleton is thick. This meant that when my head met his hip, his hip won. As I lied there sinking into the quick-mud (like quick sand but muddier), I had a few thoughts that I should share about myself.
"1. I really need to stretch before physical exercise.
B. I'm not really good at sports.
3. The ringing in my head is definitely not natural.
D. I wonder if I can feel my toes, yep there they are. Wow they're wet and cold."
In any case I bounced up after a few seconds and finished the game with renewed vigor. The good thing about being slightly concussed is that you are even more stupid than a normal 30 year old pretending he has football skills. All in all I should play that kind of football more often. What a great Thanksgiving!