A beautiful evening for wrestling

If you were fortunate enough to be driving along Appleridge Road toward Route 224 in Boardman about 6:05 Saturday evening, you would have seen the following:
A man and a woman walking arm in arm, enjoying the trees that were bursting with autumnal reds and oranges and fading greens.
You may have guessed that they had just enjoyed a casual hour at Panera. That they had dined on black bean soup in a sourdough bread bowl and a salad dressed in a balsamic vinaigrette. That they had lingered awhile, sipping Colombian decaf and Ceylon mango tea.
Perhaps you would have thought them rather sophisticated and intriguing ...
You may have imagined all those things, but what you would have SEEN would have been more like this:
The woman, holding on to the elbow of the man, stuck her foot out to trip the man. (Sure, it was sophomoric, but YOU'RE the one who imagined she was sophisticated.) This would not have been significant except for one little thing -- the lawn where they were walking sloped to the street. OK, it turned out to be one BIG thing.
Grace and balancearen't their strong suit
The man lost his footing. Instead of releasing the woman, as any true gentleman would have, the man grabbed the woman's arm tightly like a boa seizes dinner. She tottered, then bent forward, then back. She managed, in fact, to right herself AND the man as well.
But, dang! It just wasn't over yet. The man's feet weren't yet steady, and he pitched forward again. He, shockingly, fell to the ground! (He did NOT, however, as any true gentleman would have, let go of the woman's arm.)
No, he didn't. Instead, my husband John fell to the ground like a pin in a bowling alley, yanking me down on top of him.
Everyone seems to be watching as they pass
And there we were at the dinner hour. Dozens of cars traveled past us through the neighborhood to the Shops at Boardman Park -- seemingly hundreds of neighbors passed along Appleridge, thousands, millions -- while we were embroiled in a scene from Big Time Wrestling.
At this point, I rolled over John's stomach like the Hooded Avenger during a reverse takedown. As the back of my shoulders skidded across his chest, my head slammed into the ground, rediscovering the origination of the phrase "seeing stars."
And, just as I registered the sensation of slamming my head, my lower body, which had trailed behind in the vice-grip body slam, wrenched down and over. This was, I was reminded, my "bad back." (It has not been just my & quot;back & quot; for about a year now. When I talk about it, I must say, "My bad back.") OUWWWWW!
Yes, well, what more can two middle-aged people do to call attention to themselves? Don't worry. Nothing.
We laid there a moment laughing. Then I arose, and I shook the celestial hallucinations from my head. "I can't believe you did that to me!" I said finally.
"Did that to YOU?! You tripped me."
"You could have let go."
"You didn't have to trip me."
"I can't believe you pulled me down to the ground on top of you. I slammed my head on the ground. I hurt my back."
"You tripped me."
"You should have let go."
Not the first time I've done something like this
I have always been a pretty goofy person. When the kids were little and I took them to the playground, I played chase, not minding that no other parents were doing it. Even now, when I walk the dog at night, I have few compunctions about doing my face exercises as I walk along the streetlighted roads.
Nor do I worry too much when I listen to the Indians on my headset as I walk and I scream out on a silent street at every home run. And, I have been known, to dance a little on my walks, too, if I happen to switch the dial to 1390 and a particularly inspirational Gene Kelly number comes on.
But this, it must be said, was the first time I ever did a gainer on top of my husband on a public street.
If you didn't see it, sorry. It's not going to happen again.
murphy@vindy.com