GRIDIRON MARTYRS - Segment 4 (Scroll down for earlier segments)



     Using some rope and a tractor, coach Hardman finally got the players out on the field for pre-game warm-ups.  He issued blinders to everyone so they wouldn’t be distracted by these giant alien creatures from a far-off school district…15 miles away.  Some players asked for blindfolds.

     After the pre-game warm-ups, both teams met at the center of the field for the coin toss.  We won the toss, so we had the choice: kick off, and let them have the ball first, or receive.  We didn’t like either choice. 

     The referee’s waited for our decision.  “Could we mail in our answer?” asked Billy.  The officials detected this as a stall tactic.  They refused our request.  There would be no stay of execution.  We decided to receive.

     As we broke out of the huddle and lined up for our first play, our quarterback looked at their defense.  Apparently he didn’t like what he saw, because he called time out and ran to the sidelines.  No one else liked what they saw either, so everyone ran to the sidelines. 

     After discussing several plays, including one that would take us across the mountains and to the ocean, where we would board a passing ship, Coach sent everyone back out onto the field.

     Just beyond the line of scrimmage was eternity. 

    The Predators tried some well-worn intimidation tactics…”You an organ donor?  You give blood?  We’re taking it tonight.”  Their tactics worked beautifully.  We considered appeasing them with ground chuck, but chuck was out with a sprained ankle.

     Instead we sent our fullback up the middle.  He disappeared into eternity.  Someone said they saw his ghost sprinting down the sidelines without the football.     

    We considered that an omen.   We went into preservation mode.  We tried the “inflate and hiss” tactic.  They were undaunted.  We tried the Possum Fake, complete with tongue hanging out.  They laughed mockingly.  We wondered if we still had time to make the ship.           

     Then someone remembered the words of one of our fallen comrades from the previous year: “If they get too close, lie down in the fetal position and cover your head and neck.  Don’t move until you hear the referee’s whistle.”  The line of scrimmage was close enough, so when Steve, our quarterback, barked “DOWN”, everyone dropped to the fetal position. 

     “That’s a great play, said Charlie.  “Let’s run it again.”

     After three drops to the fetal position, we punted the ball to the Predators.  On their first play from scrimmage, it was immediately evident that one of our players had left his common sense at home in a drawer.  He was attempting to tackle the Hulk.  Everyone watching gasped as Gary made a kamikaze run at the oncoming boxcar.  I couldn’t watch.  I closed my eyes and listened for impact.  When I didn’t hear the sound of someone being steamrolled into a decal for the football field, I looked up.  Gary had tripped and fallen, saving his own life.  Everyone breathed a sigh of relief. 

 

     Later, Gary recounted his experience.  "As I got closer to the Hulk, life took on new meaning.  I wanted to finish school and have a family.  And I didn't want to miss Maberry's recollection of these years in the football wilderness."       

     That close call reminded me how much I enjoyed my role as an observer.  One day this would make a great story.  I hope Gary enjoys it. 

 

 

 

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