I hate football more
than anything else on this God forsaken Earth. I hate it more than my hate for
country music, ferrets, and the color orange combined. Nothing about the sport intrigues
me.
But, my dad loves
football. He's one of those guys that has season tickets, knows practically
every teams stats, and has all the satellite football channels. My dad loves football. Because of this love
every boy in my family has had to play the god awful game. From my oldest
brother, Dallas, all the way down to little Jordan, it's a known fact in our
small town that Whitman boys play football. Even if we suck at it! I guess dear
old dad knew sooner or later one of his kids would be good at his first and
true love and well, that kid is me.
I know, it's hilarious.
I'm good at a game I hate. I'm the best running back my high school has ever
seen and have scored more touchdowns in a single game than any of my brothers
have in their whole lives! But, as I said I hate¾ no, I loathe the game of football. And I feel
pretty damn bad that my twin brother, Scott, loves the game but, couldn't catch
a football to save his life. He keeps trying, though. And well, I keep on
playing cause dad loves football and football is my ticket out of here.