Marolt: Pot smokers are in the wrong field
You shouldn’t smoke pot on school property. That’s obvious. Nonetheless, last Sunday afternoon, while I was out on the high school track running wind sprints, I unexpectedly sucked deeply into my recovering lungs a few large breaths of what smelled like skunk farts. Yes, I inhaled. I had no choice other than passing out after my full-on, hypoxic, anaerobic dash. It about made me vomit.
The unexpected haze rose from a congregation of adult male lacrosse players gearing up in the east end zone while some children fooled around in the sands of the long-jump pit at the other end of the turf. I was stunned, if not stoned from the contact high.
I get it. These men were trying to do to lacrosse what middle-aged men and beer did years ago to baseball when they created slow-pitch softball.
As they passed the pipe on what is functionally the middle school playground, I’m guessing the drug made the ex-lax bros feel like they were sharply skilled, super fast and lightening quick, just like in the glory days. But to the sober viewer, it appeared more like they were playing pickle ball with a beanbag while jogging in fresh tar.
And this brings me to why I was running around the track on a fine, sunny August afternoon and why I care about people smoking weed on the football field. Because I am a strong supporter of common sense, strive to act decently when convenient and recognize blatantly stupid behavior when I see it, I am a longtime member in good standing and captain of the Aspen High School football chain gang.
There are three things you need to know about chain gangers: First, the football field is sacred ground to us. Second, our bodies are temples. Third, we think weed is bullshit.
Where did this puritanical chain gang mindset come from? I suppose it started when we all had kids and, as long as we had them, we thought it would be just as easy to love and care about them, so we did. One thing led to another and pretty soon we loved their friends and, after that, pretty much all kids in general.
That got us into all sorts of crazy stuff like coaching, judging lines at volleyball games, recording stats for soccer, hand-timing ski races, keeping the clock at basketball games and even a seat on the school board. We were dedicated to setting a good example for kids and keeping them busy with wholesome activities that led us to the pinnacle of parental participation — the chain gang!
Yeah, we’re cocky. After proving we are the best chain gang in this league (by far), we set our sights on working a Broncos game. This has raised the dedication bar, which we now understand serves beer at a rate of just one glass per night.
Bill got us going on the health kick. It’s all about “treating your body as a temple,” as he puts it. He read about it on the internet and it seems a little Old Testamentish if you ask me, but the principle is solid: Nothing impure enters the temple.
Tim was the first to embrace it. He hikes so much that he keeps track of his progress by how many pairs of shoes he wears out every month. We like to say he has Forest Gumption.
Anyway, he started ordering his pre-game buffalo wings without sauce, which, I think, just makes them chicken wings. Ken one-upped him and orders his without skin, which makes them just stringy poultry on a bone. Gerbaz takes the cake, though, but not literally. He doesn’t eat or drink anything before the games at the Hickory House, and that makes him almost Zenish and it’s why he’s in charge of the downs counter. Sure, he’ll have a free hotdog at halftime, but that’s only to protect our vested rights with the Booster Club in our historical food-for-work arrangement.
We also have DeeeWayne. He’s a retired Army Ranger so, of course, he’s all about push-ups. I swear you’ll turn around to say something and he’s on the ground knocking out 20 for no apparent reason or explanation. It’s weird, but, if it gets us to the next level, let it be.
I’m sharing this chain gang stuff to explain why we get ticked when people are smoking weed on our turf. It’s a bad example to kids. Grown-ups with drugs on school property are pushing felony territory. It’s bad for your health. It makes you lazy as all hell. And, it melts holes in our beautiful synthetic athletic fields. In short, it goes against everything we stand holding our sticks for.
Roger Marolt knows there might be a time and place for pot, but that time is never at a school. Email at firstname.lastname@example.org.
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The past sneaks up on us in the strangest of ways, and I don’t mean bounty hunters flashing those “Wanted: Dead or Alive” posters in our faces.