The Christmas of 1961, I believe, my brother Jack and I begged and begged for Santa to bring us football uniforms. I’m not talking about football jerseys with some famous quarterback’s name on it. I’m talking real suits with pads and all, designed to damage and otherwise injure young men (or ladies to be fair!). This was an even more important request than the Fanner-40’s we’d had to have the Christmas before (those were play pistols by the way)! They had these mail order football uniforms in the catalogs that came in different colors. We’d seen them in the catalog and we just had to have them.  This was obviously one of our earlier acts of covetousness. I’m also absolutely sure I did not get the color I wanted; and I’m sure precious little Jack DID! I don’t know why I wanted a football suit other than that Jack said I did (I was his Mike-ey—“let Mike-ey try it and see what happens”; “let’s get Mike-ey to do it first and see if he gets in trouble before anyone else does”…you get the picture as to why I’ve needed lifelong counseling, huh?).

So on Christmas morning, there they were. Way to go Santa! In reality, I’ve had issues with Santa ever since that Christmas morning, as he most assuredly promotes violence and cruelty. We were, of course, up before dark and in the living room in our underwear, I’m sure, and so we were ready to don our new football uniforms, pads and all. And, we quickly hit the turf which was mainly dead weeds and bare ground and rocks, in our front yard.  We played to the dim light of a single, bright 40-watt bulb of our front porch. Uniforms proudly donned, football in hand, we proceeded to play two-man football on frozen tundra in the fog. We lived way out in the country on what was a gravel road with a little oil on it to spot up the cars. But, there were NO street lights anywhere.  Rudolph was safely munching hay back at the North Pole with his lighted snout. When it was dark in Tussy, Oklahoma, it WAS dark. It probably was only in the 40’s, maybe even colder, but at six or so a.m. in the dark just after waking up, you can imagine how FUN that was!

Since there were no teams and thus no hand-offs or passes, our game involved getting in a stance and hitting each other. I believe one of us would actually try to run the ball without spraining our ankles on the rough ground in the dark. After one tackle, we were very motivated to break completely free for sure.  And, our mom actually came out there and watched this fracus. She’s probably still laughing now as she rests in peace. In fact, I may need more counseling now that I think about it concerning her abuse! Now, these suits were fabulous examples of how NOT to make football suits; they were pure marketing. The pads were useless and only served to get you to hit someone else thinking you had padding when in fact you didn’t and thus to hurt yourself really, really badly! And, to hurt the other really, really badly too. And, we did that repeatedly. I suppose we did it to somehow justify our intense desires and pleadings to have these sado-masochist outfits of self destruction!

Well, after some minutes of this wonderful fun I finally got my crazy brother to stop pouncing on me, as he often found cause to do, and to go back into the house. The fact that I don’t really remember ever playing in them again will tell you about how much we actually did use them and how much I totally enjoyed the experience of being hit and run over repeatedly by my big brother, and to the glee of my sadistic father. I mean this was sanctioned little brother abuse! Actually, I have really probably have forgotten playing in the uniforms much after that due to post-traumatic syndrome. How do you spell “concussion”?

Oh yes, we’d always had wonderful fun like this. I mean when we were pre-school we got to box.  We're talking fist-fighting with hand coverings. My dad was into heavy-weight boxing and so he decided he’d enjoy some light-weight boxing.  He bought us these "boxing gloves", in this case vinyl gloves with a micro-millimeter of felt fabric inside to give the illusion of padding! After my second concussion, courtesy of my Mohammad Ali clone brother in a 25 pound body, with both of us wearing underwear with actual boxers printed on them, we finally retired from that. So, now we’ll play football and see if we can completely scar little brother for life (which obviously happened). Maybe even complete the course of “siblingcide”!

So yeah, we got our football suits. The beginning of a career I continued up through the eighth grade when my left leg was broken by a guy twice my size in my femur just above and into the left knee. I was playing middle linebacker on the junior high team and it happened on the first play from scrimmage in practice wearing pads that year. After all was said and done, my left leg ended up nearly two inches shorter than the other and I’ve spent a lifetime dealing with the “blessings” of that wonderful experience, an experience that began with the delivery of my first football uniform! I did have one other stint jplaying football.  Jack talked me into playing in high school because my dear father wouldn't let him go out if I didn't.  Oh, fun.  But that joyful activity lasted a month or so before the dear Lord delivered me. Hallelujah! (Ask Jack about why that ended.)

Things that can look so cool and fun, can end up being so un-fun and even violent, as in the case of football. Especially, if you follow some of those roads for a while. It has often been said to “be careful what you ask for, you just might get it”. That adage is oft-repeated because it is so often true!

What have you longed or asked for that you finally got and then discovered there was tremendous pain and suffering behind it? Many have experienced such with friendships, dating relationships, marriages, careers, and other living situations and life decisions. Fancy wrapping paper and cards of love and goodwill cannot otherwise consecrate what will end up being a cruel curse. Often, those gifts are provided by or perhaps enabled by family and/or loved ones who are ignorant themselves or are just “enablers”.

James, the younger brother of Jesus, in a prophecy to all younger brothers said, “Every good and perfect gift is from above…” (Ja. 1:17). Maybe as to say don’t open gifts from your older brother thinking it might somehow actually be for YOUR good. I’m only kidding, as I’m referencing here the giver of all good gifts as being the older brother. However, I jest just to make the point that what God gives you will always be “good” for you, even if it is painful. What the world gives you might seem good at first but will ALWAYS bring pain or things bad results.

James also said, “You do not have, because you do not ask God. When you ask, you do not receive, because you ask with wrong motives, that you may spend what you get on your pleasures” (Ja. 4:1-2). The word of God is given to us so that we can come to a wise understanding of what we should ask for and who we should ask from.  And, often what we SHOULDN'T ask for.

Be careful what you ask for. And in life, be careful who you ask for it from. Trust in the Lord and he will make your life go real well (Prov. 3:5).