The End of an Era?

Matt wanted to ski on the ski board (yes, the original ski board that Dave built in Jr. High shop class) on our trip to the lake last week. As we pulled the board out, we looked at the poor thing. The nose of the board has splintered off and is quite jagged. The left "leg" has split and hangs down a good two inches below the right leg. The wood, once smooth and well-finished, is now rough and showing the signs of many hours in the harsh sunlight of summer.

We smiled and chuckled at the look of it. And realized that the day may have finally come to retire the ski board.

So, here is the video. Perhaps the final voyage of a Crowley original. Matt gives it a good ride.

Enjoy.

I once knew a boy who loved soccer

There was once a boy who loved soccer.

He was as quick as a wink and a pure joy to watch play. One Spring, he received a new pair of cleats as a gift. They were flashy and light. He loved the cleats and made the ball do amazing things when they were on his feet.

This boy played on a very good team. At times, they made the game seem effortless. Guiding the ball into the back of the net as if the ball itself knew that's where it belonged.

One Spring Saturday, the team travelled to the rougher side of town for a game. The field was sandwiched between an industrial warehouse and a muddy river.

This game went like most of the other games had gone. The boy's team scored early and were very much in control. The other team was outmatched, but they continued to fight and give great effort. One player in particular with dark hair and somber dark eyes was clearly giving everything he had to fight back. But it seemed he was struggling to stay on his feet as he tried to defend the more talented players.

It was during the first half that the parents noticed that this dark-haired player was not wearing cleats. He was wearing a pair of brown slip-on suede shoes. Some of the parents chuckled when they saw the shoes.

The second half of the game went much like the first. More goals for the boy's team. Continued effort from the overmatched team.

Mercifully, the final whistle came and the onslaught ended. The players shook hands.

The boy's father walked onto the field and put his arm around his son. They talked for just a moment. The boy nodded his head and glanced over his shoulder at the players on the other team.

The boy then walked over toward the other team and called out, "Hey, number 15. ... Number 15."

Players and parents turned to see what was going on. The dark-haired boy with the suede shoes turned around. One of the mothers, took a couple of tentative steps onto the field, unsure of what was about to ensue.

The boy asked, "Hey, what size shoe do you wear?"

The dark-haired boy's face scrunched up. "What?"

"What size shoe do you wear?"

"Um, a 1 or 2, I think."

"Oh, good," the boy said as he sat on the grass. "Would you like my cleats? I think they're just your size."

The dark-haired boy's eyes opened wide. He sat down quickly on the grass and pulled off his suede shoes. The cleats fit perfectly. A dark-haired mom appeared at his side.

"Thank you," the mom whispered.

____

This is a true story.