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10-18-2006, 02:45 PM | #2 |
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Back in elementary school, the kids would always play football at recess. I was in 6th grade, and for whatever reason, the other kids never let me play with them.
I complained to a teacher, and she made them include me. Anyway, I played receiver for awhile, and then there came a point where all the kids were standing around arguing about something. I seized the moment and grabbed the ball out of the quarterback's hands. "HUT HUT!" To my amazement, everyone ran out for a pass. This was my opportunity. Dropping back cooly just as I had seen Joe Montana do hundreds of times for the Chiefs, I looked for a receiver. A blockhead named Anthony ran a hitch and appeared to be open. Just like Joe, I patted the ball and threw a tight spiral right to his chest. It was a perfect throw. Perfect for Travis Thompson, the tallest kid in school, to soar out of nowhere and pick off. I can still see the play developing in slow motion in my mind. Anthony yells for the ball, I sling it out there, and Travis, all arms and legs and giant developed-too-soon genes, leaps through the air like a gazelle and plucks the ball out of the air. He runs it back for a touchdown. Destroyed, I immediately burst into tears and fled the scene. I was laughed off by my fellow students as I kicked the chain-link fence on my way off the field. Damn you, Travis Thompson. Damn you.
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10-18-2006, 02:50 PM | #3 | |
Wasted away again...
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10-18-2006, 02:51 PM | #4 |
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Though it's not FB, GC's story reminded me of my kickball saga. I went KG, 1st and 2nd grade to a school that didn't involve bats, balls, etc in the recess experience, just running around, hopping on the merry-go-round, etc.
We moved between 2nd and 3rd grade, and my new school was all about kickball at recess. Well, young'un here was notorious for actually striking OUT, ie missing the ball completely on three successive attempts. Got into soccer, and by the end of the school year, I was one of 3 3rd graders who could kick the ball off school property.
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10-18-2006, 02:53 PM | #5 |
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i got kicked in the sack one time and my left teste swolled up the size of a football.
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10-18-2006, 02:57 PM | #6 | |
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10-18-2006, 03:03 PM | #7 |
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Winter 1983. Back yard of Brian Schuth's house. 2-on-2. Muddy as hell.
I was defending Chuck Kane. Brian threw a pass. I slipped and fell. I saw the ball floating toward Chuck (thankfully, Brian had a weak arm). All I could think of was how I was going to get burned for a touchdown. So I mustered all my energy -- and to this day I still don't know how I did it -- I leapt from my knees and miraculously batted the pass down, saving 6 points. I knew then that I wanted to be a sportswriter. |
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10-18-2006, 03:05 PM | #8 |
Rockin' yer FACE OFF!
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Not really a football story, but here goes.
Back in 2000, I went to see the Chiefs in preseason play the Jags. My neighbor, a big Anti-Chiefs (but a great guy nonetheless) got tickets for free, and offered one to me. There was 4 of us and I was the only Chiefs fan there. The whole trip down (3 hours or so from Omaha) they were giving me hell. They came up with a little jingle and everything. This was the same time as that "who let the dogs out" song was big, so they were singing "who let the Jags score...chiefs, chiefs, chiefs, chiefs..." A-holes. Anyway we get to the game, and sho- 'nuff, the jags hand us our asses. They were singing that stupid song the whole time, I was sure we were going to get into a fight. But they wound up making friends with most of the people around us. Here is the truly important part of the story: The game ended and I had been drinking quite a bit. (Beer was only 5.00 each then, so 20.00 bought a round for all...) Anyway, I wanted to go down to the wall to get as close to the field as I could. Once down there, I said something to the effect that if I could just get out on that field once, I'd be happy. One of the anti-Chief bastardos said "So, jump over real quick, and come back. We'll pull you up. Just like this" and he jumps over the wall, trots out on the field to the end zone (only like 10 yards) turns around and comes back. Well, I'd be damned if some Chief hater was gonna do that, so I toss my drunk ass over the side, ran out to the end zone and looked up. It was the most glorious view ever. My buddies started screaming for me to come back. I didn't hear them. They start pounding on the wall and screaming, and my trance is broken. I start to run back and actually thought I would make it. But drunk white men can't jump. I jumped laughing like an idiot and my buddies grabbed me, but the large gorrilla security guard that was chasing me jumped higher, had me around the neck and wrenched me off of the wall. He tossed me and I stumbled, and he tackled me in the endzone (which was actually pretty cool now that I think of it...) Now I'm not laughing anymore. Long and short, he jacked me up pretty good. He told me I was tresspassing and that I was going to jail etc...then once we were off the field he told me to leave and not to do anything that stupid again. I promised him I wouldn't. And so far I've kept that promise, and as long as beer costs a small fortune at the stadium, I will keep that promise.
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10-18-2006, 03:08 PM | #9 |
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Another story from high school. I was in the band, and we went on some outing, and a football game broke out, which happened often.
As we're playing, the love of my life wandered over to watch. She was a pom pon girl, the homecoming queen, and was voted the most attractive girl in our senior class. Plus, she was really nice. Like every other guy in our class most likely, I had a raging crush on her, though mine had actually begun all the way back in eighth grade, before she was even beautiful. I was too shy to ever talk to her, though, so my love was unrequited. She was wearing a lacy dress, and she was a vision as she lay on her stomach on the grass watching us play. (She was sensibly a yard or two out of bounds.) Lo and behold, I end up catching a short pass over the middle running full speed in her direction as I tried to outrun some 140 pound linebacker to the corner. I hit the sidelines about five yards from her and had to turn it upfield right as I got nailed. Tumbling, tumbling, tumbling, and when it was over I was about six feet from her, sitting up with a big hole in my elbow where it had been impaled by a stick. It was brutishly ugly - a big hole right on the forearm side of the joint, all bloody and weird because it was a puncture wound that was almost an inch across. She was more than a little grossed out, and the other players were all coming over to look at it, too. I had no choice in the matter. I got up, moved my arm around a little to be sure it wouldn't fall off, and went back into the game with a bloody, gaping wound. You don't be a wimp in front of a woman like that, and even though she had a kind of funny disgusted look on her face, I think she secretly was very impressed about how tough I was. We played football at least twice a week before band practice, and it would break open and bleed every time, so she had to think I was the toughest guy in the world by the time it finally healed. Sadly, though, it didn't compel her to come to me and profess her love or anything. It took that thing weeks to heal, and I had a scar for years.
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10-18-2006, 03:09 PM | #10 |
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Oh, and one time in high school gym class, I put an unreal shake-and-bake move on a defender and scampered down the sideline. God, I wish someone had videotaped that. I spent the next two weeks in front of my bedroom mirror trying to recreate it. It's like the future ghost of Barry Sanders entered my body for that one moment.
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10-18-2006, 03:13 PM | #11 |
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I had a pick 6 in 5th or 6th grade pee-wee football. I was a very shy kid, but I did a dance when I scored.
The ref threw some laundry on the ground and told me I watch too much TV. |
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10-18-2006, 03:16 PM | #12 |
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i scored a goal from the centerline in the sixth grade.
my dad screams across the field. THATS MY BOY!!! HOW YOU LIKE THAT COACH?????!!!!!!! who could blame him? seeing that i never got anycloser to the goal than centerline.
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10-18-2006, 03:28 PM | #13 |
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In my son's JV football game the ref on the opposite side of the field raised his arms to signal a touchdown when the runner broke the plane of the 5 yard line.
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10-18-2006, 03:29 PM | #14 | |
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10-18-2006, 03:30 PM | #15 |
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One reason I quit football in Jr High was because the coach made us wear our helmets on the sidelines. We could not take them off after we went out, and with my long hair and tight helmet it hurt like a SOB to wear that thing.
The real reason I quit was the pot. |
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