By the time last Saturday’s Minnesota State High School Football Class A quarterfinal game between Blooming Prairie and United South Central got underway, I was beginning to have serious doubts about my comfort the rest of the afternoon.

I also began questioning the sanity of some, especially BP’s Tim Wolfe who wandered over to myself and Rocky Hulne with some purpose with what I assumed was a smile. I could only guess as half his face was covered with helmet and mask.

“A good day for football boys,” Wolf said, or something along those lines. Frankly a small part of me was happy he called us boys. I know I should feel some sort of disrespect that a high schooler is calling me boy, but then again I felt a tad more youthful.

I responded with a somewhat challenged, “Always.”

His response was to laugh and wander back to the final huddle before kick-off. I didn’t completely agree with him as we were starting to settle in to a cold and frigid day that would prove once again my theory that weatherman simply stick their heads out the window during convenient weather patterns.

Initially, forecasts had the day at a sunny and balmy low 30s temperature.

We had sun,I believe, for roughly as long as I had been in the office that morning, about two hours. Okay, check one against the forecast.

Check two came not long after we got out of the car at New Ulm High School. It was pretty clear the wind was blowing about 150 mph, whipping across the open fields surrounding three-fourths of the school. I am strongly tempted to write a letter of complaint to New Ulm in regards to their placement of their school, but that’s for another day.

And then there was check three.

At one point, looking out over one of the fields, I notice that things looked fuzzy and foggy.

“Huh, that kind of looks like snow,” I thought, followed by the first flakes of snow blowing across the field.

I felt a little accomplished at that point if I’m to be honest, because with just a little study and my keen observation skills, I think I became a meteorologist.

Meanwhile, as BP was waiting to receive the kick-off, kids are dancing around to House of Pain’s “Jump Around.” Good on them. It’s a great song, standing the test of time from when I was a college kid. However, I couldn’t help but to frown, because those kids would be running around while I would be buffered by winds and snow the entire time.

At this point I feel I need to clarify a few things. No, I’m not hating on winter. Winter is still far better than summer. This summer there were still days when I wanted to stab the sun, punch Apollo, drop-kick Ra. I’m still a fan of winter, but I’m even more of a fan of proper forecasts.

Now, I wasn’t really uncomfortable, not at first. I had dressed appropriately. Maybe I could have donned another pair of socks as by game’s end I was pretty sure I would need toe transplants.

By the game’s end the score pretty much put the game away in BP’s favor and I had lost interest in taking pictures, so I was left to stand there, freezing off parts of my body I didn’t think I needed anymore. If I put blocks of wood in my shoes, would it serve the same purpose of toes?

The cold had settled in through my feet and was working up my legs, so dancing up and down betrayed my discomfort and my horrible dancing skills. I wasn’t the only one, but I was probably one of the few complaining about it. At one point I wandered over to the BP stat girls, a delightful bunch I’ve become acquainted with over the course of this season and told them, “This is what I like about volleyball — no snow.”

I believe it was Maren Forystek who replied, somewhat dryly, “That’s why I play volleyball.”

“It’s all good though. It’s why we’re here,” Micalyn Trihus added and then we all laughed,and I went back to making sure I still had toes and fingers.

Okay, so this might seem hypocritical in nature given the nature of my other columns celebrating the joys of winter, but come on. I wasn’t ready for it. I had been mislead by the Illuminati of news. I just want justice. The next time they are wrong, meteorologists should have to stand outside and cover it.

And this, ladies and gentleman, is why I giggle when I see them standing in the snow or rain covering a storm.

HAH!