My job was easy. All I had to do was stand on the sideline. No one asked me for anything and there was no pressure on me to do anything. Least of all in this make or break Bi-District playoff football game.
When people asked if I played football I told them I was quarterback and I was, mostly. I really didn’t play quarterback in games, I was just kind of thrown in the position because I was too slow to do any other skill position and measly compared to the 200 plus pound linemen. So they a made me back up quarterback hoping they would never have to put me in. Like the future of my fellow teammates, I virtually did not exist. Not that I really minded though. I had never really wanted to play football anyway. I was more interested in an academic future rather than that of a prospective Division III scholarship for a sport that got me nowhere in life. The only reason I even signed up for football was because no guy in my family had ever not played and my entire family made sure I would not be the one to break that streak. So here I was on the sidelines having the time of my life.
It was the fourth quarter. I wasn’t really paying attention. Win or lose there was no difference. Though the rainy conditions had made for some exciting football and an unpleasant sideline experience. The sticky mud clung onto my shoes like the world’s largest piece of gum. The ball would slip out someone’s hands every few plays and dance around diving players. Our team lost the ball and our players came back looking like mountains of mud. Still it wasn’t my problem. I was on the sideline.
A few minutes later, the crowd had become particularly loud. I wouldn’t have noticed except my friend and fellow benchwarmer, nicknamed blindy because he was nearly blind (football players are so creative), asked me the score. Being that I hadn’t looked at the scoreboard for nearly half an hour I was a tad surprised when I saw the time below 2 minutes and our team down. We’re down 35-31 with two minutes left I told him. He said thanks and continued squinting at the field as if he could actually see anything going on under the bright lights of the field. I decided I might watch as well considering the gravity of the situation. As the clock ticked down, I was infinitely glad I would not touch the field. God probably was feeling particularly humorous because the next play, our starting quarterback’s ankle decided to break.
It was over. Everybody but the other team knew it. My coach, not at all hiding that he knew we could not win screamed at me get in and I did. With time for only one play coach decided we’d go out on a prayer. Everybody lined up. We had two receivers wide on each side. Despite how much I didn’t care about the game of football, I was with a few hundred who did. I took a deep breath, and then another, and then another. There wasn’t any more time I could wait so finally I screamed hut and received the rocket of a snap. Even though it had already been dried, the ball was slick in my hands and I caught it against my chest. I took two steps back, planted in the mud and threw the ball as far as I could to my outside receiver on my right. Then I prayed. Everybody’s eyes followed the wobbling ball light magnets drawn to each other. They couldn’t look away even if the tried. It was in that moment I realized, yeah, football was only a game. But also, if one allowed themselves to, they created bonds with their teammates that would never be destroyed.
I experienced all this in a matter of seconds as my eyes, like those of our fans, followed the wobbly ball right into the hands of our star receiver. In the final seconds, he elevated himself above the cornerback to snatch the ball from behind his head and land in the end zone. We had won the game.