Camp Damn It’s Really Hot Out Here

On Sunday, Donovan McNabb’s annual pigskin passing camp in the desert will be open for business. Domo’s take for the Daily News is a good read. I love his description of the festivities.

“Two-a-days at Lehigh are no picnic, but neither is Camp McNabb. We’re not talking run-a-couple-of-routes-and-head-for-the-Coronas here. For starters, it’s supposed to be 114 degrees in Phoenix on Sunday. And don’t give me, ‘But it’s a dry heat.’ One-hundred fourteen degrees is 114 degrees.”

Newlywed Hank Baskett had this to add:

“If everybody watched what we do out there, that’s the closest shock you can get to training-camp speed. We wake up, work out, do outside running, then we lift, then we run routes in the evening. Out there, it’s 5 o’clock and it’s still 110 degrees. You’re getting after it. It’s work.”

Wait a sec. They actually do work? I thought summer camp was supposed to be fun. No wonder guys have skipped this in the past. My idea of summer camp involves consuming mass quantities of hot dogs and peeking in the girls’ shower. Probably why I’m not a pro football player. That and the fact I possess zero athletic ability.

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