A Story I Have Told A Thousand Times Or Fear Is A Two Way Street

When I was in middle school, we played football after school. It was me and a bunch of mediocre athletes. No, I am a less than a mediocre athlete. So it was me and a bunch of boys who were less athletic than me. Me competing against inferior athletes was mostly due to circumstance. It is also me revisiting and revising my youth.

I did not run the ball often. But when I did I would spit. I would claw. I would keep my feet moving. I would punish the mediocrity that was trying to tackle me.

So this one time, my team was losing. I decided we needed a quick score. I ran the ball. This hockey player tried to wrap me up. A central Virginia hockey player was trying to tackle me. I had to punish the mediocrity. I elbowed him square in the temple. He went down. I scored the touchdown.

"You killed him." The guy was still laying on the ground like he was dead with everyone huddled around him.

"He shouldn't have tried to tackle me." I jogged over to make sure he wasn't really dead.

He eventually got up. He suffered no long-term effects. No one's mother ever knew. He has a wife, two kids, and a career in the Navy.

We finished the game.

But I ran the ball less often.