Gross Out at Morning Weights

Never had a crapper but last year we had a pro farter. He was the smallest kid on the team but you wouldn't know it. He could send the huddle running in every direction and it seemed he always saved his best for last, when we got together for the team chant at the end of the practice.

Not even a forty mile an hour wind helped. This kid would enter the huddle, a little smirk on his face, and twenty seconds later you'd find out what was so funny. I don't know what his mother fed him before practice but whatever it was, it was foul.

When you only win one game in a year, its funny the things you do remember. How sad that when I'm in my eighties, that's probably all I'll remember from that season; fartboy and the huddle breaking apart like a tsunami hit. Priceless.