On Saturday I played football with some people from work and I was forced to once again admit that I'm not as tough as I'd like to think. Being of Dutch heritage I come from hardy stock and I thought I'd be able to hold my own in this little 3-hour game of flag football played in delightfully brisk 40-degree weather. I was placed on the offensive line where my hands of stone would be unable to sabotage the game. Unfortunately, this did not stop me from being a handicap to my team. In one particular instance, I planted my feet firmly and attempted to block a determined Mr. Rich Berger from sacking the quarterback. I came on strong, certain I could hold him off at least for a few seconds. After all, he's only a little bigger than myself. I'm not sure exactly what happened after that. The next thing I remember is lying flat on my back, my butt aching. The next day I could barely get out of bed. What a wonderful reality check.

All I have to say is: Berger, you're on my list.