As someone who covers high school football for a newspaper, I can tell you that one of the great underrated dangers out there is the high school football press box. Usually, the thing is a wooden shack haphazardly slapped together on top of an already shoddily-constructed set of bleachers.

(Not pictured: Wolf and Titan tossing demolition balls at you while you’re on the stairs)

And to get there, you have to negotiate a spiral staircase that’s tighter than the one in the Statue of Liberty, then creep across a catwalk with a 12-inch-high railing and hope you don’t slip on something and fall 30 feet into the marching band. Each time I go to a new school, a different set of challenges awaits. I’d rather do the Eliminator on “American Gladiators.”

Today, I sadly bring news that one of our brothers in arms has fallen. And since I don’t yet know if he’s going to be OK, I probably have to refrain from making any jokes, however well-intentioned they may be:

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