Friday Night Lights Redux: Tonight we followed the map of not Middle Earth from last week, north of Guilderland, to the not shire of Ballston Lake, the origin of which, according to ancient lore, came from a race of overly confident, often braggadocious peoples who, simply, had a ton of balls and liked large, still bodies of water.
To get there we first travelled near and through many a small town including Scotia, where it seems the original pioneers, intent on making it to a far off paradise called Canada, maybe anticipating a time, many generations in the future, where healthcare would be a right and not a priviledge and people would be friendly, simply got plum tired and stopped, adopting just half of the name of their intended destination. New legend has it that they’re waiting and praying for Major League Baseball Pitcher Ivan Nova to relocate there and finally fullfill their destiny (while also awaiting their doctor to call them back with the bad news from the insurance company).
Along this original journey many of the travellers broke off from the group to lay claim in the area to their own small patch of dreams, to quite a few “Villes” – Aurie, Livingston, Johnsen (of the sausage maybe?), Clark, a Mechanic (as important as a blacksmith), Green, Rensselaer (a haughty Dutch fellow) and even Maria and Glenn (formerly a loving couple but whose contentious divorce found them moving to either sides of a river…Maria then kept a lake in the settlement). Seriously…it is a LOT of freakin’ “Villes” here in upstate New York..
So, again, we found ourselves in Ballston Lake (the lake of heavy balls?), where new legend would would be written of a proud Knight of the Queen, for the realm of Queensbury, he of the visitors, who would champion her in friendly competition, scoring ALL of his team’s 42 points with 6 touchdown runs and three 2-point conversions only after following a 1st quarter that was just ONE drive…ONE…12 minutes plus a single play into the 2nd quarter for the first score. A grand evening it was for the queen and for her proud people who travelled well and wittily in their support.
For myself, a serf of the Order of the Observers of Spectrum of Sports? It was also a grand evening. I had another night in fine Fall weather of, again, quieting the noise of a too often frustrating daily life, instead enjoying the sidelines of a High School Football game while also witnessing this seemingly effortless writing of a new legend for the Queen. A tapestry of his heroics has, surely, already been commisioned.