Retrieving the Gauntlet Thrown

I am removing the sod from a 15' x 15' patch of my back yard, digging up the sod myself, shovelful by shovelful. 
I am doing this so that I can plant a garden.
What I mean is, I am doing this because a foolish man said to me, “You won’t be able to do that.”
As soon as he said that, I knew that I would do it.  Knew that I would be in the back yard with a shovel on as many days as I could spare the time, plunging the sharp new spade into the earth, dancing on top of the blade to make the bite as deep as possible, bringing up the tightly woven clump of grass torn from its tapestry and tossing it as far as I could so the impact would knock off some of the clinging soil.  I knew I would keep at it, back-straining as the work may be, without calling The Grandson over to help (though this would be a project he would love).
Don’t misunderstand me; I like the foolish man who looked me in the eye and said, “You won’t be able to do this.”  He simply needs… a paradigm shift.
And I am writing this blog post today for another foolish man… one I don't like so much... one who criticized my writing earlier this week… the stranger who said, ‘You can’t have a paragraph that’s only one sentence long.  It’s not really a paragraph, is it?’
Is it?