I probably didn't look like the most compassionate coach in youth athletics when I strode over to my player (who was lying fon the sidewalk crying and clutching his ankle) and I started yelling "I told you! Didn't I tell you!" but you really had to see what happened moments earlier . . . I passed by the same player on my way into the building and told him "Stop juggling the ball in your cleats on the pavement-- YOU ARE GOING TO GET HURT, if you have to burn off some energy and jump around, do it on the grass-- DO NOT GET INJURED BEFORE THE GAME" and then I walked inside, happy that I had given an eighth grader some clear and concise coaching advice, so when I came out of the building and the girl's coach-- young, concerned and earnest-- rushed up to me and told me one of my players was injured and that he had rolled his ankle on the curb, I was, of course, in no mood to play the role of Florence Nightingale.
Do you think Florence was considered a real looker back then? She looks kind of shapely, and she is a nurse--and maybe if I were an injured soldier, I would find her nurturing and attractive, but I find myself looking at her picture and thinking she is way to austere and manly to have sex with, but I've been wrong before...a lot.
ReplyDeleteAnd if you look at the time stamp, I am sitting at home on a Saturday night pondering sex with Florence Nightingale, so maybe I should reconsider--and you know it would be very sterile, sanitary sex; she'd probably scub up and make me wear a condom.
ReplyDeletei'm thinking eric and pathetic eric might be dopplegangers.
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