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Spilled Milk and Skinned Knees

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Come on Ben, don't end my world

My world has just come to a screeching halt. The last 17 weeks that have been known to me as my current existence now hang in the balance. It’s Sunday afternoon, December 28. I came home to my mother’s habitat for a quick hello and goodbye as I was on my way from my girlfriend’s house in Montana, headed promptly to my own abode in Coeur d’ Alene so that I could make use of my newly acquired gifts.

My mother then informed me that I had a story to write for her, a story that should have been finished, oh, let’s say 13 days ago. Instead of taking my place behind the wheel, I sat behind a monitor, and keyboard. Now I am here.

As I was pondering things to write about I came across the idea of writing about the Knights Templar, who were a Christian military order with renowned fighting abilities, that existed during the Crusades and was endorsed by the Roman Catholic Church. I thought it would be an interesting topic to explore and perhaps I will sometime in the future. However, my skills are needed elsewhere and I must lecture you about the NFL, its crazy season-end antics, and why my life, as I know it, is suddenly scattered.

As I explore the World Wide Web to find a story topic I decide to brush up on the scores of the football games. I would have done this before but since the game that my Steelers had to play today was meaningless, I felt the need to do other things. Little did I know that when the nfl.com web page loaded, the terrifying words that no inhabitant of Steeler Nation deserves to see came up: “Roethlisberger carted off field in Steelers win.”

Okay, I just sat there for a couple minutes as I digested those words once again in disbelief. Not Big Ben! He’s a beast! He doesn’t need to be carted off the field! Why couldn’t he get up?! Now while the end of that sentence is somewhat enjoyable, the fact that my quarterback is down makes it seem insignificant. Over and over again in my head I’m praying that the injury is a fake.; praying that they are planning some sort of trickery for the unlucky team that is forced to play against the Steelers in the second round of the playoffs. I’m also praying that the two week vacation in between games will be more than enough time for him to heal and get ready to make a run at possibly the Titans, and even more, the Superbowl.  

Now I don’t know what happened exactly, the Internet in Clark Fork is far too slow for streaming videos, but from my readings, Roethlisberger suffered a concussion after being hit simultaneously by two Browns defenders who I dare not say the names of. Uttering their names within the boundaries of Steeler Nation would be like Frodo speaking in the tongue of Mordor while he sipped the fresh waters of Rivendell as Elrond peered over the embankment. In short, it would be blasphemy! Now you know why my life as I knew it is scattered. My hopes, my dreams, which are shared by many others, now hang heavy on the shoulders, and arm, of Byron Leftwich.

The next time you see my words on these pages, hopefully things will have turned for the better. Hopefully a hero will rise from the mists and a leader will be born. Or perhaps the injured will be healed and reclaim their rightful place on the throne and lead their team to victory against the evil hordes of the land of NFL.

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Dustin Gannon Dustin Gannon says he's a writer because his mama owns a newspaper. At all other times, he's a sportsman, writing both the Sno Biz column, when he's working at Schweitzer Mountain Resort in the wintertime, and Fore! Play, when he's working at the Coeur d'Alene Resort golf course during the summer.

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