The Max Butt Slap (An Update)

Super Bowl 51 coverage will overshadow everything today.  Local favorite son, Julio Jones, is the only reason for me to favor Atlanta over the Patriots.  I wish both teams luck. 

From two years ago–a secret play called the “Max Butt Slap.” Will either of these teams employ it this year?  We’ll find out later today.

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I’m Brad Fussberger, reporting on one of the most unusual sports stories of my career.  Just when the “Deflategate” brouhaha started to fade, this reporter, learned from a reliable source; that one of the Super Bowl teams is rumored to have a strange, secret weapon this year.  Is it Pete Carroll’s Seattle Seahawk’s, or veteran Super Bowl winner, Bill Belichick’s, New England Patriots?

Like myself, when I first heard about it; some of you might think; oh well–this is just another, strange, seldom-used, triple-reverse, gadget play.  Or some crazy throwback, flying wedge defense.  Well, it’s none of those things–it’s hard-hitting football.

The maneuver is called the “Max Butt Slap.”  And it’s not at all like the celebratory hand slap to the backside.  It involves a defensive player spinning his body around; bowed at the waist, and hitting someone butt first.  It’s a move, not unlike karate, or kick boxing.  The full weight of the buttocks, aided by centrifugal force, delivered, with the force of a battering ran, against the opposing player.

“Where’d the idea come from, Brad?”  The name and play came from an Australian Blue Heeler, Named Max.  Max’s owner, who requested to remain anonymous, told me, “Since Max’s lost weight–he’s been friskier.  He’s “Butt Slapped” our other dog, Maggie, repeatedly, across the backyard.  So far, she’s not “Butt Slapped” him back.  Max has successfully “Butt Slapped” at nearby dog parks.

Right away I wondered–why couldn’t this move be used in pro football?  Nobody could have been more shocked, than I was, when one of the teams was interested.  I’ve signed a legally binding agreement not to reveal any details about which team it was.

It’s certainly going to be interesting to see how the “Max Butt Slap” plays out this Sunday in Super Bowl XLIX.  So far, the league hasn’t had anything to say.  Will one of the teams “Butt Slap” their way to victory?  With the “Puppy Bowl,” and “Butt Slap” combined–has XLIX  gone to the dogs?  If this works, then professional football, will have advanced to the rear.

 

 

One Of the Good Guys

I’m still shocked, in disbelief, that a neighbor and good friend passed away last night.  He was within a year or two of my age.

Rick and I were retired communications workers–for the same company in adjoining states.  We could fall back on telling telephone “war” stories.  Rick always lent a helping hand when needed.

Because of Rick, I have buried telephone service to my workshop.  It’s an old-fashioned landline.  How else were my antique telephones going to work?  With ringers as loud as firehouse gongs, they’d refuse to operate on wireless–the very idea.

Every good thing that will be said, Rick deserves.  He was one of the good guys.  Me and the dogs will miss him.  We couldn’t pass by Rick’s house on walks without Max putting on the brakes.  Max loved to see Rick–go back to his workshop.  I know it was an interruption.  Rick refurbished golf carts.  Rick always found the time.

 

Can You Dig It?

“You have a small mouth,” Said the dental hygienist.  My sarcastic nature went to work.

“Maybe I missed my calling?  I should have joined the circus.”  Her comment was off-the-wall–or at the very least, tactless.

“Sorry, I’m just a mouth monitor–would you look at the size of that mouth!  Now, there’s a mouth I could work with.”  She didn’t say it–was she thinking it?

A neighbor, given to spontaneous bombastic bouts of unsolicited advice, had this to say about preventing my dogs from digging holes in the backyard.

“Well, you fill the hole up with water.  Then, grab the offending dog by the nose; stick the dog’s head and snout underwater, until he squirms and gasps for air.  Repeat, if necessary, and by gosh they’ll get the message or drown.  Either way–no more holes!”

“Thanks for the information, neighbor.  I’ll get back to you on that.”  There was no way in heck, I was going to do that.

Most holes were discovered after the fact.  When it was too late to yell at the offender.  Collecting dog excrement and depositing it in the hole before filling it was semi-successful.  The worst holes were under the privacy fence.

At this point, I don’t think the dogs wanted to escape–they were just curious about neighborhood activities.  And, I can dig that.

 

On and On It Goes

Highway construction was the big news last year.  Errant drivers ignored the dead-end street sign and came through with everything from delivery vans to tour buses.

Normally a quiet neighborhood, this year two storms are brewing below the surface.

Notorious free-range pet parents are being sued for allowing their dogs to threaten–even bite people in the neighborhood.  What will come from this is unknown.  I hope relief is granted, and those in question will be forbidden from owning dogs.

The other problem–someone new to the neighborhood has been riding ATV’s on private lands and right-of-ways.  Muddy washouts will interfere with natural drainage and destroy wildlife habitat.  Some of this land is in a city park.  This can not be allowed to go on.

 

http://www.featurepics.com/–

New Years Eve According to Max

Thunderstorms, torrential rains, put a damper on noisy celebrations last evening.

Max, my older male dog, was already shaking and drooling from the noise.  We were huddled up together in the living room–which is the quietest part of the house.

From a post dated 1-2-15, Max’s opinions on fireworks and noisy human revelers–which haven’t changed.

They’re mere pawns–opportunistic miscreants on a downward path of slow decline, wounded by the celebratory gunfire of their overinflated egos.  I wish they would see the errors of their ways–cease and desist all auditory assaults immediately.  Because my ears are killing me!

Quite frankly, I prefer digging holes to random pursuits of hedonistic pleasure.

I hate noisy human revelers.  I hate New Years.  I hate the Fourth of July.

Some of you are going to hate yourselves in the morning when the hangovers hit.

I can scratch myself in places you can’t–so there.  Enjoy yourselves–I’m sleeping in all day tomorrow.

Max was sound asleep last night at 10:30.  Much sooner than last New Years Eve.  He’s napping at this writing the next day.

 

The Chase Was On

I only had one hand free, this morning, when the mayhem began.  The other hand, held a plastic bag full of doggy doo-doo.

When myself, and the two mutts walked around the brick parapet at the entrance of the subdivision, all heck broke loose.

One of the neighborhood “crazy cat lady’s” cats walked, stalked, or whatever cats do, in front of my dogs–who were leashed together.

The leash was out of my hand in an instant, and the chase was on.  Through the first neighbor’s yard, around their boat, parked in the driveway, into the second neighbor’s yard.

Max was baying like a hunting dog, until heard him yelp.  Oh well, they’ve caught up to the cat, I thought.  None of the three seemed any worse off from the experience.  Like is usually the case, no neighbors heard the ruckus.