In seventh grade, I played football.
I know it's easy to look at me now and think, "He doesn't look like he used to do anything," but it's true; back in my middle school days, I played football, and I was your typical seventh grade football player with hopes, dreams and aspirations to one day be playing football in college and eventually the NFL. Looking back now as a 25-year-old, if those hopes and dreams had come true, I could very well be playing in today's Super Bowl, which is kind of unfathomable (Yes, the title of this post is a pun on my last name). Just think about that right now as you're reading this; you're reading the words of an almost Super Bowl player . . . kind of. You're basically in the presence of a celebrity.
Anyway, back in seventh grade football, I played quarterback. I wasn't the starter, but during the second game of the season, our starting quarterback got hurt within the first quarter of the game, so you know what that means- I became the starter.
It wasn't long after I'd gotten into the game that we came to a third down and short situation from our opponent's 40-yard-line. Our coaches decided to call a play called a "quarterback sneak." If you're unfamiliar with football, this is a play in which the quarterback immediately takes the ball from the center and chargers forward with the help of the offensive line, and it's a play that usually guarantees a short yardage gain, but nothing more than that. It's a great third and short play call. Anyway, the coaches called the play, I relayed it to the huddle, and we lined up at the line of scrimmage. I called the signal for the snap, and then things began to unfold very slowly . . . What was a play designed to gain a yard or so slowly but surely evolved into a 40-year-touchdown run. After I took the snap, the defense didn't even flinch, so I just ran (not very fast) right by them toward the end zone in complete shock of what was happening.
This was the first touchdown I'd ever scored in a regulation football game, and it was a complete fluke. I was in shock, my adrenaline was pumping and I'd just sprinted as fast as I could 40 yards down a football field all while hearing, "That's Austin Bowles of Duncan with the touchdown" blaring over the field's PA system. Usually this results in a celebration for players and teams; however, for me, it resulted in puking up all the red Gatorade I'd indulged in earlier on the bench when I thought I wasn't going to play onto my wristband that had all the plays listed on it. This ruined for the rest of the game and made play calling for the rest of the afternoon quite difficult.
This story is quite memorable, not so much because of the touchdown, but more so because of the throwing up, which is seemingly the worser of the two moments (obviously). It's funny how that's often the case in life; it's always easier to remember and reflect on the bad moments more so than the great moments. I'm not sure why, but I think it's because we tend to learn more lessons from bad moments than we do good moments.
Good moments are great, but it's the bad moments that we learn and grow from. From the example above, I don't know that I learned a lot from scoring that touchdown, other than maybe that I should cut to the outside the next time I break free from a quarterback sneak play; however, I did learn a lot from throwing up all over my priceless wristband. I learned to never drink two bottles of red Gatorade before a game, and I learned to always be ready to go because you never know when you'll have your number called and have people counting on you.
It's funny when you can look back on stories from your life and still find lessons you learned x-number-of-years-ago applicable to life today. Sure, maybe the Gatorade lesson isn't one that I learn from each day, but I can definitely still learn from my 7th-grade self on being a reliable team member, even when I'm riding the pine.
What's a lesson you learned as a kid in a weird way and what's one way you can apply it now?
-Cliff
Cliff's Note: Limit: 1 red Gatorade/athletic activity