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Sports stuff where it’s probably just me …

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Monte Dutton

If a man (or a woman, though I generally think women have more sense) watches a high school football game on Friday night, a college game on Saturday and a pro game on Sunday, he (or she) spends a lot of time being confused.

Fundamental differences exist between each hybrid of the game, and some are needed, such as 12-minute quarters in high school. Maybe the skill level demands that NFL receivers have to get two feet down. Instant-replay reviews aren’t practical in high schools.

But they could standardize a lot in terms of penalties, how many yards, previous spot, spot of the foul, loss of down, automatic first down, what is down, what is a catch and whether or not Ted Cruz’s old man had anything to do with the assassination of Tupac Shakur.

All the football ruling bodies should have a constitutional convention to find common ground.

Ah. Those snotty NFL guys would never reach across the aisle.

Washington Football Team might work … if it was a soccer team.

This never-ending process is sort of emblematic of the franchise, oh, ever since Daniel Snyder bought the team. Name ‘em! Name ‘em anything! Washington Squares … the Fightin’ Squares … Spineless Morons … Hurly Burlies … Whirlybirds … anything.

I got my personal choice from a tweet on Taylor Heinicke. Dimes. It should be the Washington Dimes. The Fighting Dimes. The Dropping Dimes. It’s perfect.

But keep the numbers on the sides of the helmets. Somebody ought to.

The crawl (on the TV screen, not other kinds) said a pitcher named Alexander won a game for the Rays. Immediately I thought of Doyle Alexander, tossing it to the plate with those slumped shoulders (the left of which he didn’t use to aid his tosses) for many teams. (No, I didn’t think of Grover Cleveland Alexander.) 

Doyle Alexander recently turned 71.

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Say this in defense of the Laurens Raiders. They’ve taken some harsh lumps, but they give a man something to write. I’ve seen 68-3, 51-0 and, most recently, 0-72 on the TV.

Not Laurens. Every week’s a ballgame.

Fans root for teams. Writers root for stories. Laurens hurts so good. If the Raiders turn it around, they’ll be a full-fledged old movie.

Earlier in my career, occasionally I defended myself by saying, “You think I’m tough? You ought to read my mail. I’m fans light.”

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I still believe that. The whole world is too reactive.

Presbyterian football was never as good as 84-43 and 68-3, and now it’s not as bad as 0-72.

I’ve been intrigued by this sudden rise of a tactical revolution in my sleepy hometown, but it had occurred to me that in the previous meeting between the Blue Hose and St. Andrews, the score wasn’t 84-43. It was 52-14.

I watched the game on TV with an eye on a story, and I hated having to write it. It reminded me of a comedy movie, but, as a coach, Kevin Kelley is definitely a cut above Adam Sandler or Groucho Marx.

Scholarships matter. The Blue Hose haven’t played on anything close to a level field. They ran downhill for two weeks and uphill Saturday.

The DHK Sports forces were fully deployed. In Lexington, I got to see that rarity this year, the close game.

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Caleb Gilbert and Danny Barletta were out in the wilds of Anderson County. Mitchell Mercer, a PC junior, was at Wilder Stadium. Elena Davidson was off in sweet Liberty tracking Powdersville. Caleb toiled on the photos. I edited the stories. Danny and I put several together from the stats.

It’s the same way sausage is made. And cleaner.

I set my stuff -- notes, stats, video, photos -- aside and went to work on editing and layout for everything else. I did it this way because Caleb and Danny were to be off bright and early for Raleigh, N.C., the next day. This was the weekend for the old man to hold down the fort, and I was on guard all night long on Friday/Saturday and most of it on Saturday/Sunday.

Kids, this is the way you can get jet lag without leaving the ground!

I’m glad I didn’t go to Raleigh. I’m glad I didn’t go to Buies Creek. I went to Lexington and was damned glad to get it.

I’m the lucky one.