Middle-schoolers are my enemies…

Yesterday night I went to the local high school football game, wanting to see some of my favorite people play in the game and/or the band. The half-time show was great, with the 90-strong band playing a medley of songs from the musical Grease (which I despise, but it sounded good sans lyrics and looked great with the costume changing – poodle skirts and sequins!).

But I was hit in the head by a football.

No, not from the field – I would have been cheering any kicker who reached the stands. I was sitting on the far north side of the bleachers, where the kiddies gather when they get tired of watching the game. There was a scrimmage going on, and I was its victim.

Some nice freshman behind me asked if I was all right – without laughing, which is why I knew they were nice! But the only footballer who came forward at first was a scared-looking elementary student.

When I picked up the ball, a seventh grader came to fetch it. I told him he needed to work on his aim.

If third time is the charm, next Friday I’ll be struck by a semi truck driven by a joy-riding sixth grader.