Bad News

After getting some very good news this week (two different medical test results I'd been worried about both came back totally normal the second go round), I just heard some less than happy news.

The Macon Knights are "ceasing operation." Yup, no more arena II football for Macon. And I'm sad to admit that I have not done my part to support the team in the last few years.

For those of you who have never enjoyed a Knights' game, let me set the scene. Mediocre football players at best, lots of scoring, a redneck audience, and the most unique cheerleader squad I've ever witnessed. For my first game, I dressed the part: tight jeans, a denim button-up shirt, and a John Deer belt buckle. I fit right in and even "earned" some whistles from bearded men twice my age.

The highlight of the game, without question, was the Knightingales. Remember the big bangs, hairsprayed, rather large hairstyles that were once popular? The Knightingales do too, and they aren't afraid to represent. Remember the three word cheers the cheerleaders performed at pep rallies in high school? Me neither. The Knightingales evidently had limited memory, so the cheers were kept to about a three three word minimum. It was hilarious. With that limited ability to remember words like "go," "fight," and "win," the cheers were also kept to only a few motions over and over. I guess that made it easier for the crowd to follow along as well. But don't worry, the girls were saving up hard drive space for their half time routine. Right before half time the Knightingales disappeared to change for the big show. And a few minutes later, they emerged in tight, straight vinyl skirts with slits up the leg complete with knee high vinyl boots. CLASSY. The dance routine did have a several steps in it, but again, it was the same steps over and over. And in the end, the Knightingales did exactly what they were there to do--they entertained us and made me want to keep coming to games.

So the next season rolls around, and I hear that auditions are coming up. My friend Heather agreed to try out to be a Knightingale if I would. I had decided to dye my roots black, gain twenty pounds, and deepen my accent to be a little more twangy to increase my odds of fitting in and making the squad. About that same time, I was assigned to intern with a federal judge though. And in reviewing the requirements of that position, I realized I'd have to get the judge's permission before taking on any other "jobs" (the cheerleaders are evidently paid per game). And as much fun as trying out would have been (I'm definitely not a "cheery" type), I didn't really want to approach the judge about that one. And now I've lost my chance forever.

Here's a photo of me practicing tumbling with my trainer in preparation of try outs, and another of me trying out my dance routine in front of a large audience (on a bar in Austin). As you can see, I'm a total natural.