It’s a Sunday afternoon and I’m watching the boob tube. The Seattle Seahawks are being disemboweled by the Carolina Panthers. Thank God it’s half time because the score is 31 to 0.
Last week Zee and I were out gathering some first calf heifers that needed to be moved to a new pasture. We had split up as we had found 17 head of heifers. Zee headed to the corrals with the 17 that we had found. Because my old trustworthy horse Fuzz was standing at the feed manger in the mud, I decided to ride whoever was standing on dry ground. I don’t know some of our young horses very well; according to my wife I have saddled one that may not be as trustworthy as I would like.
What happens next as I ride out of sight is my horse named Zip, who does not like the idea of being all alone, proceeded to disembowel me and leave the scene without one ounce of curiosity for my well being. Little did he know that my sudden stop when I hit the ground left me with 6 broken ribs. My dogs Bob and Trigger new something was wrong and did what they could do– lick me in the face.
Up to this point I believe that my trouncing and the Seattle Seahawks’ trouncing have some parallels. The Seahawks have just lost their game by only one touchdown: 24 to 31. It was quite a comeback. Whereas for me, I’ve got a 2.5 mile hike back to the corrals. Bob and Trigger said they refuse to play Lassie and run for help. “No,” they said “we need to stay close in case a mountain lion sees this old guy hobbling down the trail.”
Not being raised in a time where an iPhone is an extension of your body, it didn’t come to my mind that I had one. I hiked about a mile when I happened to reach into my shirt pocket in hopes that I might find a Jolly Rancher candy to sooth my pain. Nuts! None to be found, but low and behold what was in my pocket was my cell phone. Usually the battery is dead, but this time it had a charge and one dot to show me I had reception. My grandson Brinan was gathering cattle in another field about 3 or 4 airline miles away. Let’s see, what’s his number? Jack remember, you press phone and then contacts and Brinan’s number appears. I press his number and in only a moment Brinan’s voice says “Hi, grandpa.” I tell him my story of woe and in about a half hour Brinan and son in law Mike have come to my rescue.
Well, what were the parallels to the Seahawks, if any? The Seahawks got to go home with heads held high ready to take on another foe of equal ability next year. As for me, I get to lick my wounds and stack the odds in my favor by setting my sights on the quiet side of life by getting back on my “bullet proof” horse Fuzz… even if he happens to be standing in the mud.