Sunday, September 7, 2008
I'm no Brett Favre, but ...
Six months... that's how long I've been waiting for this day.
It's the beginning of football season... and every year about this time I am reminded of one of the most perfect moments in my life. When I was 13 years old and considered one of the best football players on my block.
And oh yeah, I was the only girl in the game...
Every Sunday morning we would gather in the field across from my house for our football game. Because we lived in Virginia, the NFL games didn't come on until the afternoon, so we had the morning to create our own version of the NFL. Our game was the first of the day, and in my mind, the best game of the day. On this particular day, we were playing the team from two streets over. They were coming to my house... they were playing on my field.
We had like eight of us on a side, and on my team my brother, my little brother played right along side me. Now, I was what you might call a slightly overweight child, I had to do my shopping in the husky section of the store. But I loved Sunday's because it was on this one day of the week, when my extra few pounds came in handy. You see, I was the one who cleared the path on the field.And there is one particular play, that still to this day, brings a smile to my face, and was so important to my self esteem.
We were all lining up for the kickoff, and we had come up with our strategy. It was very simple. My brother would catch the kickoff, and my job was to clear the path to the endzone for him. So, the kickoff came, a sort of end over end flopper to my brother, not one of those beautiful kicks like you see in the pros. This ball sort of squibbed down the field to my brother. He picked it up off the rutted field and pretty much attached himself to my ass.
I had only one goal in mind, to hit someone. Now, I might have been a little chunky, but man I could run. All i saw was these boys running straight at me, trying to get through me and to my brother. But, as the only girl out there, I had a little something to prove. One by one I put down my head, and laid out the opposing players. It was an amazing feeling to send them flying, and get closer and closer to the end zone.
It seemed like everything was in slow motion, but it probably only took us about ten seconds to get down the field. I could hear my brother yelling "go, go, go". And man did we ever. As I crossed into the end zone, my brother was like one step behind me. And laid out on the field were the opposing players. I hadn't physically hurt any of them, but I do think their egos were a bit bruised, having some girly girl take them out.
So, as I look at Brett Favre this morning throw for his first touchdown as a Jet, celebrating by jumping up, high fiving, and slapping butts, I understand his enthusiasm for the purity of the game. I'm no pro, but on that day, on that field, I felt like a pro, I felt like I could compete with anyone.
I love this game.