One of my most vivid memories of fall happened during junior high. I was standing in the end zone prior to the start of a game. I could barely feel my fingers and toes.
It was October, but it was unusually cold (Al Gore had yet to invent global warming). My shoulder pads, helmet, and other gear typically made me sweat profusely in the Arkansas heat and humidity. But a cold front and the rain that pushed it through had arrived.
By John Moore
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