Just an update before I blog a bit: I got to watch Sutton score the only goal for his team in his game the other day (actually Wednesday night). He called me that day and said that he was playing against a men’s team. I thought he was exaggerating. He wasn’t. They were men.
I am now in Pompano Beach, Florida. I came down to see Brad and Mandy Jones. On my way back I will stop in Merritt Island, Florida to bring Jake Pohly back to Huntsvegas.
I’ll enjoy the beach for all of you.
Last night I remembered a story that I need to tell you.
It was a cold winter morning in Hueytown, Alabama. My dad was a pastor there. We lived across the street from the church, Union Hill Baptist. My dad had gotten a phone call from one of the youth. She and a friend needed to get into the church. My dad left to go unlock the door for them.
If you don’t know, my dad is a big guy. Back then, he was probably 6’4” and weighed 225 lbs. He was an exceptional athlete in high school and college. He was thirty-five and in pretty good shape even at this point.
There had been some precipitation the day before. The water on the sides of the road had frozen. The puddles had become pockets of ice. There was still some ice on the edges of the road that the cars had yet to wear down. Sitting in the parking lot of the church, almost directly across from the house were two police cars. They were both sitting in one of the patrol cars directly across from the house. My dad’s projected path back to the house from the church would take him just in front of the policemen. They were about to get the show of their lives; they had no clue.
After letting the two young girls into the church, my dad decided to sprint back to the house. You know how a guy is. He just helped two teenagers out. He was going to be tough and kick it back to the house. He gets out on the road and opens it up. He’s pretty fast. He is running at full speed. The cold air is whipping through his hair. He hears the steady sound of the air humming by his ears. The cops are watching by now. He is about thirty yards from them. He has caught their eyes. He gets about twenty yards from their direct sight when something tragic occurred. He is running on the left side of the road toward oncoming traffic. In a split second, his left foot lands on the shoulder of the road and rolls to the side. All of a sudden, his 6’4” frame is hurled forward to the ground. The ice causes him to slide for about fifteen yards. When his body comes to a stop, he is faced down in muddy ice mixture. His pants have been pulled to his knees along with his underwear. This was all perfectly times so that he would end up right in the direct view of the cops.
My dad manages to get up and yank his clothes back on. He sticks his bloodied hand up to let the cops know that he is ok; it was a lie. He manages to walk to the driveway some twenty more yards away. From the driveway to the front yard there was a set of about six brick steps. He climbed those carefully. He got about ten yards from the steps up to the front porch before he collapsed. He crawled up the porch steps. He reached up with one hand to ring the doorbell. For some reason my mom, sister, and I reached the front door at about the same time. Mother opened the door. We looked out, then down. We realized that whatever had happened had been seen by the two cops in the parking lot. We all broke out into a feverish laughter. We dragged daddy in, cleaned him up, and bandaged his wounds. He had mud in his belly button and scrapes from head to toe.
You would think that the pain would be over. But, it wasn’t. Daddy finally got in his recliner. He was relaxing when our cocker spaniel, Honey, came running in and jumped up into his lap. He recovered. And we had a story for a lifetime. I guess those cops did too.
I am sure that cops tell this story to this day. Legend has it that the reason cops sit, eat doughnuts and drink coffee is because they heard this story and are looking for a similar occurrence. They probably talk about the half naked man that slid down the road. Somewhere a cop is telling this legendary story today.
I am now in Pompano Beach, Florida. I came down to see Brad and Mandy Jones. On my way back I will stop in Merritt Island, Florida to bring Jake Pohly back to Huntsvegas.
I’ll enjoy the beach for all of you.
Last night I remembered a story that I need to tell you.
It was a cold winter morning in Hueytown, Alabama. My dad was a pastor there. We lived across the street from the church, Union Hill Baptist. My dad had gotten a phone call from one of the youth. She and a friend needed to get into the church. My dad left to go unlock the door for them.
If you don’t know, my dad is a big guy. Back then, he was probably 6’4” and weighed 225 lbs. He was an exceptional athlete in high school and college. He was thirty-five and in pretty good shape even at this point.
There had been some precipitation the day before. The water on the sides of the road had frozen. The puddles had become pockets of ice. There was still some ice on the edges of the road that the cars had yet to wear down. Sitting in the parking lot of the church, almost directly across from the house were two police cars. They were both sitting in one of the patrol cars directly across from the house. My dad’s projected path back to the house from the church would take him just in front of the policemen. They were about to get the show of their lives; they had no clue.
After letting the two young girls into the church, my dad decided to sprint back to the house. You know how a guy is. He just helped two teenagers out. He was going to be tough and kick it back to the house. He gets out on the road and opens it up. He’s pretty fast. He is running at full speed. The cold air is whipping through his hair. He hears the steady sound of the air humming by his ears. The cops are watching by now. He is about thirty yards from them. He has caught their eyes. He gets about twenty yards from their direct sight when something tragic occurred. He is running on the left side of the road toward oncoming traffic. In a split second, his left foot lands on the shoulder of the road and rolls to the side. All of a sudden, his 6’4” frame is hurled forward to the ground. The ice causes him to slide for about fifteen yards. When his body comes to a stop, he is faced down in muddy ice mixture. His pants have been pulled to his knees along with his underwear. This was all perfectly times so that he would end up right in the direct view of the cops.
My dad manages to get up and yank his clothes back on. He sticks his bloodied hand up to let the cops know that he is ok; it was a lie. He manages to walk to the driveway some twenty more yards away. From the driveway to the front yard there was a set of about six brick steps. He climbed those carefully. He got about ten yards from the steps up to the front porch before he collapsed. He crawled up the porch steps. He reached up with one hand to ring the doorbell. For some reason my mom, sister, and I reached the front door at about the same time. Mother opened the door. We looked out, then down. We realized that whatever had happened had been seen by the two cops in the parking lot. We all broke out into a feverish laughter. We dragged daddy in, cleaned him up, and bandaged his wounds. He had mud in his belly button and scrapes from head to toe.
You would think that the pain would be over. But, it wasn’t. Daddy finally got in his recliner. He was relaxing when our cocker spaniel, Honey, came running in and jumped up into his lap. He recovered. And we had a story for a lifetime. I guess those cops did too.
I am sure that cops tell this story to this day. Legend has it that the reason cops sit, eat doughnuts and drink coffee is because they heard this story and are looking for a similar occurrence. They probably talk about the half naked man that slid down the road. Somewhere a cop is telling this legendary story today.
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