I slowly move my eyes from left to right surveying the enemy. I look for a weakness to exploit. My teammates call out their assignments, waiting anxiously to attack.
“Ready!” the quarterback yells out.
I almost run out of my shoes, launching myself off my right foot. The quarterback flips me the ball as I search for any head hunters. There is nothing but green grass in front of me. Inching closer and closer to the endzone, I explode off the ground with every stride. I pump my arms back and forth, blowing by my teammates cheering me on from the sideline. The buzz of the crowd roars through the tiny ear hole in the side of my helmet. Last game of the season before the playoffs. A seventh touchdown would set a state record and all but secure my offer to play at North Carolina. Defending national champions. I close down on the end zone when I spot a defender gaining ground from behind. I panic. I am the fastest man in the state of Michigan. The fastest man in the state of Michigan. I can run faster than a gazelle being chased by a cheetah. Why is gaining on me? He’s not a cheetah. It is a foot race to the red zone. The 20, the 15, 10, 5... The defender strikes the ball, knocking it away from me deep into the end zone.
Horrified, I slow down, realizing what has happened. The ball rolls nearer and nearer to the back of the end zone. I explode off the turf with as much power as I can, taking a stride before I leap through the air toward the ball, now a few inches from out of bounds. I pounce on the ball. It squirts out from underneath me; it rolls out of bounds. Touchback. My opportunity may be over. Only two minutes to go. Still leading 56-0. Glancing at the crowd, I wonder what top notch college scouts are thinking. Now on the sidelines, I pray for our defense to make one last stop, so I can go back onto the field and set that record. My prayers are answered, or are they? I trot onto the field, filled with hope. Bouncing on my toes, I listen to the quarterback call the play.
“Break!”, we all chant, hustling to the line. Once again I evaluate the defense looking for a weakness to exploit. The quarterback takes the snap, I exaggerate a big step to the right, then plant my right leg into the ground, and burst to the left. I keep my eyes on the defense as the quarterback shoves the ball in my gut. I fly by him. Approach the line, I see a lane back to the right, quickly changing directions, blowing through the gap. I see the defensive end bearing down on me from behind and I cut back inside just in time to see a defender diving at my leg. I yell out in agony as pain spreads through my body before becoming numb. Coming to a halt, the defensive end makes direct contact with my head from behind.
I hear the mumbling of people around me. I struggle to remember where I am, because all I see is darkness. I try to get up, but I don’t know if it is my own body that is preventing me or if I am getting resistance from others. My vision finally becomes clearer and through the bars on my facemask I see the nice trainer that always tapes my ankles up on game days, on one knee next to me. She has a great look of concern on her face. All of my coaches and my parents are standing like giants above me.
I ask my dad, “What happened?”
They all turn and look at him as he responds, “Just a minor concussion, you’re fine.” I knew that wasn’t true.