For some reason I was thinking about the last time I pissed my pants. The good news is that this event did not occur recently like Leo. Then again, Leo had lost a card game in the van with the highest stakes possible, our standard game of "dehumanizing acts". As I recall in an effort to win a carton of smokes he lost Blackjack enough times to "The House" (Latina and I) that the only way he could get clear of the debt was to piss his pants in front of us in Champaign IL. That's not like he lost control of his bladder, but in actuality had complete control of his bladder. The good news was that he had won the last round he had played where he would have had to wet himself in the Skins and Tins drum shop while laying on the ground saying "Baby Leo needs changed!". See? It's not like he completely lost.
The last time I wet my pants was when I was about four years old in nursery school. I remember it was getting to the end of the day and we were assembled around small tables with blocks and puzzles. We had already had a rough day of finger painting and naps, so it was a fucking grind, you know? It was almost time for the whistle to blow. So there I was any the table when I noticed I really had to urinate. Badly. Meanwhile, parents had begun to arrive to get their kids to take them home. I weighed my ability to wait it out for my mother versus my fear of approaching an adult to ask the embarrassing question of "can I go to the bathroom?". I was so painfully shy that the idea mortified me. I was afraid to stand out in any way. I would obsess if I had said my name too loudly or too quiet during roll call. I always thought people were judging me to be inferior in some way I couldn't grasp. No, I would wait rather than face my fear of asking an authority figure to go.
I began to enter what I would call "a crisis situation". It hurt and I didn't know how I could keep it in much longer. I began to move around thinking this technique could buy me the necessary time. If there were one of those World War II air raid sirens, it would have begun to scream. I was at my breaking point. I made the decision. I was going to piss right now. Anything had to be better than this. A warmth spread across my pants. I would not have a feeling of relief wash over me in quite the same way until many years later when trying to stop from ejaculating in the company of a young woman and finally saying to myself "Fuck it. This is happening.".
I remember continuing to play with the blocks as the urine washed out of me. I played it cool. Hey, whatever was happening down below this table top was out of sight, out of mind. Suddenly, my little friend Donald shrieked and pointed. "He's peeing! He's peeing!" That little narc. Still, it was hard to ignore the giant pool of urine rapidly expanding out by our feet. I lamely attempted to deny it. "What? Peeing? No. That's not possible. And I have no idea why the front of my pants are so suddenly dark and damp." The entire school room screamed out like an axe wielding clown had popped out of a closet. This was going to be a public relations disaster.
A young teacher leaned down and helped me out of the room. She was very empathetic and comforting. She helped clean me up and found me some dry pants to change into. In retrospect, I might not have been the first four year old to have run into this particular problem. She squatted down to look at me eye to eye and said something kind. I will always remember that act of kindness, this seemingly tiny event in a long life. It's a reminder that the smallest things can have great impact. I went back out to the classroom, sure I would be shunned and permanently remembered as "the kid that pissed his pants". Yet, the class had moved on and people ran around like nothing had happened. What seemed like big deal had been almost nothing. It's a reminder that when things seem at their lowest point, this moment will pass.
No one could be lower than Smith-Schuster of the Steelers, who might have singlehandedly blown the Steelers playoff chances last week with an ill-timed fumble. He was shown crying on the bench. I'm glad there wasn't any video of my crying in that nursery school. The other thing is that nobody was tweeting out pictures of me in my urine soaked pants to the world. But everyone forgot about me because four year olds have the attention span of gnats. This is not the same of NFL fans. They are going to remember that fumble. He's got one chance to get out of his pee streaked pants. Smith-Schuster needs the Browns to go to Baltimore and win this Sunday.
The Browns have been the feel good story of the NFL down the stretch. The unlikely rise of the franchise combined with an electric rookie QB makes them everyone's darlings. Did you see how they destroyed the Bengals? How about going into Denver and kicking ass? Beating up on Carolina and Atlanta? Damn straight! This team is for real. Well, except for how they got manhandled by the one good team they played on the road (Houston). Now they have to go to Baltimore and beat the Ravens on the road who are playing for a playoff slot. This is what is called "a learning experience" for a young team, and I fully expect the Ravens to win and cover just like they have the last five of six. However, I am going to not tempt fate and grab them on the moneyline as this game reeks of backdoor cover chances for the Browns. Baltimore money line
I have somehow lost money fading the Lions twice. Twice! I haven't felt this inept since shattering two successive sparkling wines while using my trusty saber. Betting against the Lions on the road is just a good idea, like combining tequila and fireworks. It's a potentially explosive situation that will likely pay off great dividends, but if it doesn't, you might lose a hand. This is the situation this Sunday as I am going to trust in the Green Bay Packers to win at home and not toss in the towel in front of the fan base there. It's as decent number, but I don't trust these end of season lines. Green Bay money line.
Season Record: 16-10
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