Field

Friday June 19, 2026

On Wednesday, Des was officially outside of the womb as long as he was inside of it.

Maybe I should say pitch, given the World Cup of it all, but they don’t call it Pitch Day. That would be something very different in the U.S.

The Scots drank Boston dry over the last week, and since I’m a 35-year-old married man with a child, I didn’t join them. (I had one beer on Monday afternoon at The Bell In Hand [where they were down to 3/13 beers on tap] before having a call dropped on my calendar and having to scramble home.) Instead, I volunteered at the Paul Revere Innovation School Field Day, which is basically the same thing as getting blacked out in the streets with a bunch of Scots. I should know; I’ve done it.

I haven’t taken a true weekday off in a long time, so naturally, a small tidal wave of work and responsibilities came crashing down while I was flipping burgers and humiliating children in feats of speed and strength. The second half of the week has been a doozy.

As such, this will be a quick one, primarily driven by imagery. I’m disgusted by how I look in every one of these pictures, so be thankful you’re getting anything at all!

Managed to save myself from a lifetime of shame by turning on the whatever the opposite of jets are at the end here.

I should probably go to physical therapy for my shoulder because my team did not win this. (In my defense, the other side had 12 kids. It is with great sadness that I report I am not stronger than five 9-year-olds.)

My shoes had no traction either, okay?

This girl got me good. But they all got Lindsay so much worse after. It was kind of unsettling to watch. One kid received permission to dump a sponge on Lindsay, and the entire class went feral. Throwing water-soaked balls, squeezing sponges out on her. The humanity disappeared from their eyes. All that remained were the demons within.

Look at this idiot. Getting abused by children.