Bubba

Remember my old High School buddy Bubba, from this post? Well, now that most of his peers have been married a time or two, and have an average of 3.7 kids each, Bubba has finally decided to tie the knot, too.

In honor of Bubba's ascension into the realm of Ball-and-Chainism, I'd like to take a stroll down memory lane to familiarize his new bride-to-be with the man she is about to marry.

Let me go on record as saying that Bubba isn't half as tough as he likes to let people think.

In High School, he was a good solid foot taller than I was and easily had 100 lbs or more on me, since I was weighing in at about a buck ten, after a heavy meal and a fully-clothed swim.

That not withstanding, one night at weekly church Young Men's activity, I was sitting on the sidelines watching Bubba and everyone else play a game of basketball. It dawned on me after a few minutes that they were playing so loose and sloppy, that I could literally jump in and play both sides and they would never even know the difference.

So I did. For about 5 minutes, I just ran back and forth with the rest of them, fouling without shame or restraint, throwing the ball to whomever was closest to me whenever it landed in my hands, regardless of what team they were playing on. It was a glorious moment. I was in freaking heaven.

But then, after a few moments, I found myself off to the left side of the court, in close to the basket. I believe they call this area the "paint" or something. So I'm standing there catching a breather, when I hear what sounds like a sick elephant bellowing at the far end of the court. Alarmed, I look up.

And there he is. Bubba, galloping at full steam straight towards me.

Now, he wasn't doing this maliciously. At this stage in the game, there was no thought involved, and I honestly don't think that Bubba even saw me directly in his path. Or at least that's what I choose to believe, because as he drew closer, he wasn't slowing down one bit, despite the fact that his greater size and momentum meant he was about to plow into my frail little frame with somewhere around 7000 lbs of force, if my math is correct. (It's not, so don't check it.)

So what did I do? Well, the INTELLIGENT thing to do would have been to jump out of the friggin' way. But remember, I was aware that Bubba, despite his size, wasn't half as tough as he lets on. So I wasn't giving him an inch.

No, I was taking him down.

Employing one of the few wrestling moves I had mastered during my brief career on the mat, I dropped low as he came within striking distance, my body parallel to the floor, my limbs spread out like a spider's, and I swept his ankle with a lightning-fast arc, using my right hand.

Bubba fell like a mighty redwood. Flailing to keep himself up, he took down the two guys closest to him. Flailing to keep themselves up, THEY took down two guys each. Before you knew it, everyone collapsed in a tangle of arms and limbs and cursing heads.

I ran, laughing, from the gym, the only one to emerge from the entire experience unscathed.

Bubba. Pffffffffffffft.... I crap bigger than him.