Robert Finch 

Aug 27, 2002 

Mrs. Lee 

Period 3 

Growing up in a community where sports were held in high regard, I always found myself involved in one activity or another. Every year, most days, my friends and I would go out at recess or on weekends and play touch football. At times, it became more than recreation and a small fight would break out from a disagreement during a game. Sometimes, days would pass before those people would speak to each other again. For the most part, though, we got along and just had fun. We understood something as kids that many forget as they get older and 'wiser’: that football is, was, and always will be simply a game. For me, those were the glory days of football. One game in particular stands out in my mind… 

"Listen, we're down thirty-five points and recess is half over. We have to score now if we're going to win!" I belted the words out forcefully to my teammates, hoping that my words would motivate them to dig in and make the comeback. As my hands moved onto the laces, my imagination went wild with dreams and visions of playing in the NFL. "Hike!" I screamed as forcefully as I could. My receivers dashed forward and were soon approaching the goal line. There was a man wide open on the right, as luck would have it my worst receiver. The best guy I had was double covered. I made my decision in a flash, heaving the ball through the air and into the receiver's outstretched arms. Touchdown! 

We were that much closer. My heart was beating madly as the adrenaline began to flow through my veins. 

The game was progressing more quickly now and in our favor. Two interceptions and a fumble had given us another twenty-one points, so the deficit was down to seven. With recess almost over, it had become a race against time, and there was no way I was going to lose now. The momentum was ours, the excitement in the crowd that our game had drawn was incredible. 

It was third down. We were forty yards out and would have only two chances before our time outside was cut off. Hurriedly, I sent my team racing down the field. I made my decision and set up to pass the ball. As I released it, my front foot slipped on the damp grass and the ball sailed high into the air. For a moment that lasted an eternity, the ball hung in the sky. In one swift motion, the safety touched the ball and the receiver tagged him. I let out an exhilarating breath of relief as I saw the ball slip through the defender's fingertips and plunk to the ground. 

One more chance! This was it. I had one more opportunity to walk off the field with a tie. Defeat was the worst thing that could have happened back then. There could be no excuse, no sympathy, for losing. As I snapped the ball and threw it (to my worst receiver), I felt the sensation of being on the outside looking in at myself. Like only a kid can, I believed I was doing something great. 

My mind was jolted back into the real world when a shout and a cheer rose up from the small gathering around the field. We had done it! We had come back from thirty-five points down and, instead of being disheartened and downtrodden, we could walk back into the school building with our heads held high. 

I learned that day that even the guy that you have the least faith in can end up being the one that brings you victory. It also taught me to never give up on my goals, and that fulfilling just one of them can be the most satisfying thing you may ever do. Football isn't a game that you should get paid millions to go out and 'work at' but something that should be fun. I played it, and still do, for the love of the game and nothing more.