8 - Playing Smart - A Narrative

Playing Smart

He did it again, I thought, Not very smart is he.

As my teammates and I approached the line, our blood coursing through our veins with anticipation and sweat dripping on our royal jerseys, we all keep focus on our target waiting for that ball to get moving. Expect, unknown to everyone on the field, the ball had already been put into play. Well it’s too late now, I told myself as their quarterback began his cadence. With the snap of a wrist, twenty-two bodies start to collide with each other. The quarterback has the ball, fakes a handoff to his running back, pulls back and BAM. He’s hit by T.J., smashing his frame into the field. Ouch! Good tackle.

While they got themselves untangled, I rush over to the official. “Hey Ref! If their center picks up that ball again before the play starts. It’s live right?” I asked.

“Good eyes kid,” He replies. “I’ve been watching him for the past couple of plays. If he does it again, it’s free-game.”

“Sweet! Thanks ref.”

Hurrying back to the game, I look over and see my coach eyeing me. Just watch coach, I smirk, they’re not getting a first down this run. Keeping my plan secret from my teammates, we again approach the line. Taking my position, I see the ball resting peacefully waiting for thoughtless hands to get it ready for play. Each play, a center readjusts the ball to a better position so when the ball leaves the field, it can have a smooth pass to next awaiting hands. At any point though that the ball leaves its green bed, it’s awake. That’s what I’m waiting for. That’s what I’m hoping to see.

The other team approaches the line in their blood red uniforms and gets in position. Keeping an eye on their center, I watch him approach the ball, grab it with his beefy hands, and lifts it up ever so slightly giving me my cue. Quick as a cougar, I jump for the ball, snatch it from his hands, and roll away with the ball to the other end of the line. As I come to a stop, I hear the whistle blow letting us know that the play had ended. Getting up my teammates came over with a not too pleased look on their faces.

“What were you thinking Lasley?” One of them said. “Now they’re going to get an automatic first down.”

“No they won’t,” I responded, “ask the ref.”

Everyone turned to the referee impatiently waiting for his call. “The blue team has recovered the ball.” He proclaims. “First down!”

“Wait what?” T.J. asked. “How did that just happened?”

“I’ll tell you later,” I replied “Right now we have a game to win.” Giving each other a quick fist bump, we head back onto the field. Everyone could be good at a sport but not everyone plays smart. But I do.

As the years went by, I kept getting better and better at football. Starting every game on the defensive line and making big, smart plays throughout the season. Those big plays arose because I kept my eyes open, looking for the advantage, and calculating every move. Part of playing smart is knowing that everything on the field is not always what matters most. Sometimes it’s the time off the field that you truly have to keep your eyes open.

When we first started to play the game, we all began on the same level. As the years went by though, I kept my eyes open and I didn’t like what I saw. Pride crept in and decided to change things up a bit.

One day while in the weight room, the team was getting ready for a big game that Saturday. Hearing some commotion, I turned a look down the Alley. In the weight room, tucked out of sight from the main room, there runs a hallway with a line of weight equipment along both walls. At one of the weight benches close to the end of the hallway a small fuss began. T.J. give the kid a break, I thought. The new kid from Utah stood up against one the weight benches under the glare of T.J. and his group of admirers. Why do they look up to this idiot? He’s a jerk and a bully. On the field, he could make some really key plays and a great asset to the team. Off the field though, he allowed that pride to rule over others.

Quickly jogging down the Alley, I confront T.J. “Unless you want to sit the bench,” I warned, “leave the kid alone.”

“We weren’t doing nothing.” He replied angrily. “We were just getting to know our new friend.”

Looking at the frightened kid, it sure didn’t look like they were becoming best buds. On the concrete, new scratch marks appeared from the bench, being moved from the skirmish. Weights had fallen over all the floor. It sure didn’t look like a happy conversation.

“Yeah some friend you would be,” I responded back. “I know what you were doing and it needs to stop.” Turning back around, I left them behind.

As I headed back to my bench, I looked at my teammates around me.  Friends I had played with for so many years now didn’t seem like friends anymore. They had changed, I had changed. Now is the time to be smart. I think to myself as I leave it all behind.