We played Mud Football at my future best man's house... If the nearby river rose, there would be a couple inches of water where his mom's soon to be missing front lawn struggled to exist.
They had about a fifty yard run end to end, with the housed at one goal, and a highway overpass on the other.
Half o the guys would show up in cleats, and one kid always had to wear a cheap, lightly padded helmet.
The only injury in 6 years of games involved that dadgum helmet.
I ran up to field a short punt, and this kid slipped and fell right in front of me.
I tried to jump over him, and it would have worked... If he'd stayed down.
Nope. Couldn't do it... He stood up in perfect alignment with my right knee, resulting in a crushed helmet, a massive bruise on my quad, and the ban of all future football games on that yard in perpetuity.
His mama took great umbrage with the hospital bill for his 3 day stay in a concussion protocol.
Those were the good old days!
AmIRight?!?!?