Sorry, Frankie. Kinda.

Today is "Field Day" at my daughter's elementary school. They have all sorts of events where the classes from each grade compete against each other. Shelby is already preparing for victory in the Hula Hoop competition...as she should. She's won it before.

Anyway, I remember our field days from elementary school were more like a track meet. Every kid did every event, like the high jump, standing long jump, running events, etc. Really you just goofed around and ate popsicles and stuff.

One of the timed events was running 220 meters or something (back in the day when Jimmy Carter had us all converting to the metric system) like that. So, the lady with the stopwatch told me to go and I went. When I crossed the finish line the track coach, Mrs. Birdwell, called out "22 seconds exactly" so go tell Mr. Smith who has the clipboard. Well, I was huffing and puffing and told Mr. Smith simply "22."

Later in the day, they were calling out the ribbon winners in each event who got points for their class, and I WON that event! Our class got major points, but we didn't win the pizza party.

So, when we went back to class, Frankie Calma, one of my friends, congratulated me and said, "Man, you were really flying! I was glad to get 2nd place with 21.5." It turns out that Mr. Smith had written down "20.2" instead of "22."

I never said anything, but since our 20 year reunion is coming up this summer, I'd better confess that I should've gotten the red second-place ribbon, Frankie. But, don't think I don't remember you slapping a puck past the Shades Valley goalie when we were in high school on one of my shots that would've gone in anyway and you got the game-winner...so I'm calling it even.