Well, I bet you didn’t know that I used to be quite the accomplished sportsman back in my day.
The Addamses have a long history of sportsmen. In fact, Grandpa Addams was one of the original members of Notre Dame’s Four Horsemen. When I say “original,” I mean that he was half-man, half-horse. He sure could run, though.
Back when I was a boy, Cousin Itt and I used to play on the same football team. I’d hand him the pigskin, and he’d tuck it under his hair and run with it.
Itt, old man, he used to be pretty good, too. He could hide the ball under his hair, and the other team never knew who had it. And when they did find out, none of them wanted to tackle him.
Who knows how good he could have been if he hadn’t quit the football team back in high school. The coach told him to cut his hair because he kept clogging up the shower drain, but Itt had too much dignity . . . He always was the ladies’ man.
And besides all of our direct descendents, we’ve had quite a few adventurous spirits who chose to drop the extra “D” from their name years back: Pirates pitcher Terry Adams; Cowboys lineman Flozell Adams; heck, the “One D” Adams go all the way back to 1906 with pitcher Babe Adams. We consider these the white sheep of the family; but they are family, nevertheless. As you can see, we Addamses have infiltrated every sporting arena.
Along with all the usual fair of football, juggling and sword fighting, I was also an excellent golfer. In fact, I often like to wake up bright and early around noon to walk outside on my deck and hit a few golf balls.
But I dare you to find someone with a more lethal croquet game than me.
If you’ll observe, as best you can do while reading, croquet is a combination of TWO things: balance, timing, peripheral vision, superb coordination and and a killer’s instinct!
Lurch! A ball, please! And I think I’ll also need a racket. Though I think they’re called mallets, actually.
One thing that separates croquet from golf is that you can’t hit a croquet ball quite as far as you can hit a golf ball. But a croquet ball can do more damage, so that’s what Morticia and I are teaching the children to play.
But you CAN cheat at both games. Not that I’d advocate cheating . . . among my opponents anyway. Good opponents are hard to find these days. I love a man with integrity–I wish I knew one.
You know, my neighbor has as many of my golf balls on his lawn as I do. In fact, I think all of them are mine. He may have quite the collection of golf balls, but I have the most enviable collection of coroner’s reports in the neighborhood . . . but se la vie.
Wait, that’s French! I’m afraid you’ll have to excuse me. Though if you count the time it takes me to get to Cara Mia, you’ll see I got my running skills from Grandpa Addams.