No Sausagefest yet still Tackled Up

Redeemer has this little college tradition called Sausagefest, not sure when it officially started, someone says that university archives have it dated back to 2004, but it has us guys wrestling, body, arm and other parts at the end of the year. I took part as a fluke last year, was able to go to the final seven seconds, but was thumped twice on my head by my worthy opponent Jay Slump in the quarters, who I believe went on to the final for his eventual tagteammed defeat. Women here at ReDee supposedly have a Breastfest, but I sure have not seen any evidence of it, though I believe the whole point, as I understand it, is that we men and they women must remain separate the whole day.

Anyhow, I was unable to make their originally stated time of 1 in the afternoon, as I had planned to be sprinting from late morning to early afternoon off campus, but then they changed it yesterday to 4:30 p.m. until dark, behind Dorm 37 down by the courts, which made the event doable. However, then some weird weather came in, a wacky brew of cold wind, fog and some rain that I hear made the grounds too muddy, not like last year's was not muddy enough, especially all done in our barefeet. So just before art class started at 4, minutes before leaving, I had got myself all pumped up with some Rocky Balboa footage and soundtrack for the occasion this time around, already to go. Then with my whole workout silver getup on, it came as quite the blow to find out, just before leaving the building that it had been cancelled, but with its end came the reality no rematch of any kind was going to happen this year. Even with the rumour it would be rescheduled tomorrow, that would be impossible for me, as I had to get some photos shot all next day, so I sadly walked to the gym with my head low, silver fight night getup still on and now depumped about to do some light benching and that was it.

Yet there was my redemption, my good pal Johnny Smye and his Steel City Ironmen bud Darren Arnold were already there inside waiting for me, getting all jacked by the smith machine, because I had forgot we had also been playing indoor football on Friday Nights at five, who immediately upon my return, informed me that they gym had been closed, carpeted down and was getting ready for exams. I was happy that he was there, so we could do some workouts together, but then both explained that no, if we were not going to play the game as originally planned, then what kind of real need was there for them to stick around here. So with the cancellation of both Sausagefest and Five Oclock Friday Night Football Indoors, Johnny came up with a brilliant suggestion towards eventual satisfaction of all parties, on this very contentious situation.

Oh Joshua, he exclaimed, why not take me up on placing a bet of $20 greenbacks that I can get myself and this ball I now hold across that white line behind you, without you even tackling me, as he held my pigskin tight to his chest with his forearm. Standing just by the front foyer entry, next to the doors to the athletic department, he then added, but if I do fail, I will pay out the same amount to you, all in Canuckbucks with the Queen E 2 on the front. After quite the time deciding the rules for full fairness, making sure it was as safe as we could make it, though a line of lockers, five doors and a vending machine were all pivotally possible problems, we got ready to rumble with no one coming our way on either side. With Offensive Linemen Darren being our judge and joint second, it was a complete inhouse offence versus defence on the hall, except reversed as he the challenging defensive back had the ball and me the defending running back had to make the big tackle. Johnny made a leap forward, a studderstep juke, almost taking me out right there, as he passed the over halfway mark, but I held my ground, with him bounding backwards then squared in low for the wrap, one I have missed several times in games past. Finally getting him around the waist, just before his classic froglike turnaround escape I have witnessed him make on others took effect, I threw him down on the rubber bristled mat, my solid tackle ended with a smack of both bodies against the hard tiled floor right back at those twin doors.

Sunshine finally hit my heart, we agreed it was all farmers bet, as it was now a point of honour, not the cash, since the only thing I wanted out of it was my tackle for the night, perhaps needed for the weeks ahead as we emotionally entered exam period, then we shook hands on it. After which I asked them if they wanted to stick around for more workout time inside, but they had to do their business up on the Mountain, so I went in and did mine at the gym. It all ended like any other night in the Bubble at ReDee, but at least I got back into the real spirit of the game again, the way it was and always should be, man versus man in whatever element they find themselves in. Hype is a real natural drug that beats all others, the high one gets off that should never be tried for duplication elsewhere synthetically, I guess that is why some of us do the daredevil thing, like bungeeing highly of the rocks or rollerblading quickly down the steeps, just to go where few others wish to go, but for all the trouble it creates, both legally and physically, that hiphopped up heighten sense of life from the crazy action really makes it all worthwhile.