Debunking the Global Warming Theory

Pundits argue, fuss, and call each other dirty names when the subject of global warming is introduced. Some say human beings have caused Mother Earth to overheat due to our numerous emissions and atmospheric indiscretions. Others say we are indeed warming up, but humans have minimal influence as it pertains to weather patterns. Still others say it’s just a rebellious phase the universe is going through and she will return to normal once her wild oats are sowed. I am not educated enough on such matters to produce a relevant scientific opinion. But my own observations in recent years have led me to believe we are actually entering an ice age. I have evidence to back up my theory. I went to college in the mountains of North Carolina and played the outdoor sport of baseball at Appalachian State. The coldest game I remember playing occurred in March of 1985 in Boone. On that day it flurried snow and I wore a pair of long johns and one long sleeve undershirt under my uniform. It was chilly but I survived. And now, twenty plus years later I’m coaching that same sport, but I won’t step onto a field before spring break without ten layers of clothing and a portable heater in the dugout. Two years ago, I coached a home game where the temperature was 35 and the wind was howling. The opposing third baseman from Canisius (Buffalo, NY) told me it felt like a heat wave. Last year, good sense evading us, we played a night game in mid-February where the wind chill temperature never made it above freezing. I counted 14 layers of clothing on myself that night as I questioned the sanity of my chosen profession. 43 fans (I counted) braved the cold in the stands and though I admired their loyalty, I felt certain they had misplaced their marbles. I remember looking over at one my assistant coaches at one point and saying, “Whoever made up that junk about global warming should be here tonight.” Further evidence is the torture I have endured in recent years on hunting excursions with my sons. A few years ago, on one particular freezie pop morning, one of my sons and I shared a tree stand and ended up putting away our guns and cuddling with each other to survive. I suspect the deer were humored. So don’t bother producing scientific evidence to convince me that the polar caps are all but melted and the ocean will overtake the North Carolina Mountains within a few years. My body knows different. And now here we are only a few days after Thanksgiving, and the temps are already in the teens at night. Global warming? But alas, there is another factor. This body of mine is twenty-five years older than it was when it was wearing long johns during college baseball games and short sleeves when it snowed. I am forced to consider the possibility that the weather is no colder than it used to be, but rather I’m just a whole lot wimpier now. Either way, I prefer complaining about it being colder. I’m too macho to admit I can’t take it anymore and I’m too delusional to admit I’m not the spring chicken I used to be. And it’s not even winter yet.