Saturday mornings for me as a kid meant only one thing, flag football. Flag football dominated my life from February to April as an eleven year old boy. I enjoyed nothing more than lacing up my cleats, sliding on my jersey, and applying my eye black before a game. This little ritual I would do made me feel like a professional football player. In my room, I could see the media and press gather outside to see what I had to say. Whether I was injured at all, how I thought practice went that week, my thoughts on our next opponent, or who was I dating. It didn’t matter, inside my room getting ready for a football game, I was the superstar. Looking back now I can see myself quoting Anchorman as I walk out of my room. “I don’t know how to put this, but I’m kind of a big deal.”

As we left for the field that morning, I walked out of my house to the sound of a roaring applause. Everyone was on their feet screaming for a wave or even a look in their direction. Me, being totally focused in the moment, had no time to fraternize with my adoring fans, I was ready for business. As my team bus, aka our minivan pulled up to the field, I caught glimpse of my opponent warming up for the game. As I walked past them I almost laughed thinking to myself “No need warming up fellows, this is gonna be an easy win.” When I reached my team, there was a mixture of excitement and nervousness, and for good reason. The game we were about to play was the biggest game of the year. The winner of this game went onto to the playoffs. Whether or not we reached the holy grail of flag football in Great Falls, Montana rested on this game.

When the referee called captains to midfield, I knew that it was about to get serious. Our coach did the best he could at settling our nerves and reminding us that it was just a game. The main purpose of it was to have fun with your teammates and those you are playing against. He might as well have been speaking in another language because I was not interested in what he had to say. I had one thing and one thing only on my mind, winning this game.

As the game started, things were not going our way. We were playing very poorly and score was reflective of that. At halftime we were down by 12-0 and had yet to get any good offensive plays. The start of the second half was much better, as we scored almost right away. This felt like a wave of confidence had crashed over our team. The faces went from frowns to smiles in a matter of a touchdown. We knew we had them on their heels. Unfortunately, this momentum didn’t translate very well as we continued to play poorly. Both teams were playing very sloppy and as if there was something holding them back. Both teams played afraid to lose rather than wanting to win. This all changed in the last 15 seconds of the game.

We were not in a good situation. We had the ball, down by five at our own one yard line with just fifteen seconds left in the game. The odds were far from in our favor and both teams body language reflected that. My team walked around as if we had just been punished for hitting out sibling. The team we were playing strutted the field with such confidence that you would have thought they were all just promoted at their place of work. The contrast in the two teams was incredible. Realizing this, my coach called a timeout and brought us all together in the huddle. Rather than focusing on what a great season we had and how far we had gone up to this point, he focused on nothing but winning the game. When coach told us what play we were going to run to try and win the game, my heart dropped to my ankles and my legs instantly turned to jello.

The play he chose was called a double reverse. It is a play that involves a series of handoffs and tosses to try and get the defense running the wrong way. If ran successfully it was a great play, if executed poorly it looked like a train wreck. I knew that we had only ever worked on the double reverse with me ultimately getting the ball. I knew that the rest of the season rode on this one play. As we took the field, we huddled again just as players to go over the play one last time. Breaking the huddle we all jogged to our position. I no longer saw the press and media. The millions of fans had suddenly disappeared and it was just me on 100 yard grass field. As all the future outcomes jumped around in my mind, I heard something that brought my attention back onto the game. “Hut, hut, HIKE!!”

The ball was snapped and so far so good. The defense looked as if it was falling for the first reverse which was good. Now it’s make or break. As I started running towards my teammate getting ready for the last toss, I saw the defense totally confused as to what we were doing. He tossed the ball to me and as I turned the corner I saw nothing but open field. Our play totally fooled the defense. All that was left was for me to run the ball 99 yards down the field and score. As I hit the gas and soared down the sideline, I could see my coach jumping up and down as if he just won the lottery. He was screaming and flinging his arms like a mad man. He saw what I saw, a touchdown. I am now past midfield and have cleared the entire defense.

The only way I am not scoring is if they catch me from behind, which is not going to happen I tell myself. There are now only 20 yards until the end zone and now I am thinking of some type of victory dance. Perhaps the robot, but my rhythm isn’t very good. Maybe a simple spike of the football will do. It shows excitement and power. By the time I decide on the spike, I am already in the end zone and the referee is signaling for a touchdown. We did it, we won. The ref came and took the ball from me and blew for the game to be over and now I see them. The media, the press, the fans, they all came swarming back, they always do. But wait, I didn’t even get a chance to spike the ball.