Football Memories: Looking back my first middle school football game

It was one of those days on the edge of summer and fall, where summer doesn’t quite want to let its grip or control over the weather go. As I looked up, the blue sky was sparsely filled with huge white, fluffy clouds. As I stared at them, nearly daydreaming, I thought to myself just how soft it would be to lay among them.


“HUT ONE!” rang out in my ears and I was pulled back into the moment.


I was about to be handed the football, the rock, the ol’ pigskin, for the first time ever in a real-life game. I was 13, 5-foot nothing, and a whopping 90 pounds soaking wet. I had never been tackled before, not for real anyway. Sure I’d played tons of games with no pads and been hit in those and, sure, I’d been tackled in practice, but that was always teammates and friends, not the “enemy.”


“HUT ONE!” rang out again and my heart started to beat louder than a bass drum in a marching band. I knew the next “hut go” was the cue for my life to change forever and I would be running to preserve my existence.


I looked down at my cleats, worried they weren’t tied well enough and would cause me to trip and fall. If they weren’t tied, would I have time to bend down and tie them? Could I call a timeout? Was that allowed? 


There was no need though because as I peered down I saw two cleats tied to perfection, triple knots and all. I dug them into the grass tighter, kicking up pieces of the field, thinking back to my feet in the starting blocks on the starting line of a race. I knew I wanted to get out fast and keep my head up and look for my escape hole.


“HUT GOOO!” 


I shot like a rocket towards the hole, almost forgetting to take the football exchange. I hit the gap between the left tackle and guard and shot towards the sideline. 


Only seeing blurs through my partitioned helmet view, I sprinted as fast as I could in as straight a direction as possible to avoid losing any speed and being caught and hit by any adversaries. 


Now deep into the enemy territory, I looked back to make sure I was still safe. 


I looked to my left, seemed clear and oddly quiet. I turned my head to the right, and … BOOM! 


Metal and plastic clashed against each other at high speed. Everything became muted and dark.


Then the sun hit my eyes and I saw a bright beautiful blue sky with one of those enormous fluffy clouds slowly floating along. 


A teammate came into view, mouthing words but not emitting any sound. Then another popped up, and another, until my view was filled with teammates instead of the wonderful blue sky I had been admiring. 


“Johnny, are you okay?” rang in my ear. 


“You did it man, dude you did it” another person hovering over me said. “You scored dude! Get up, dude, you scored!” 


Confused and a bit lost, I responded, “I what? How? I was tackled right? Did I fumble?” worried I might have just caused us 10 minutes of sprints at the next practice for losing the ball. 


“No man, that guy flattened you into the end zone. You scored a touchdown. Get up!”


As my friends, my comrades, my teammates, helped me to my feet and our bench in celebration, my mind raced with a few thoughts -- That was a lot more fun than practice. That wasn’t as bad as I thought it’d be. And, it truly was a gorgeous early fall day.



(From left to right: My older brother Tim in and me with a Dorito in my mouth)

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