First Football Game

       “Johnny, get over here”! A team captain called. “Stevie, come here”! The other team captain replied as we narrowed down to the last two. “Fine, I take Frankie and you get Jimmy.” Frankie is my nick name and yes, on December 12 of 2001, at sixteen hours of the chilly afternoon, stood twelve people creating two teams of six.

       On television I’ve watched professional football games and understood the basic rules. However, this was not a professional football game, and yet, the football field was not like the field behind my school. The ground has ditches filled with water, and on some shaded area, laid patches of ice from the snow of the night before.

       Once we broke to the different side of the field, one of the players from the opposite team yelled, “Are you ready”?! Some of us acknowledged. A few seconds after, a ball launched toward my direction for the first kickoff of my first football game. In a quick glance forward, I saw six enthusiastic guys ready to consume me alive. So I let the ball bounces while I looked helplessly at my teammate on my right, encouraging him to run with the ball. He looked at me and screamed, “What the heck are you doing! Get the ball”! With fear, I picked up the ball and started running forward. As I run, a few yards in front of me stood a guy twice my size. He grabbed me tight, lift me up on the air, throw me to the ground, and finally he pilled up on top of me with the rest of the players as I hear my bones crackled. With my amazement, the football was on my right hand, firmly in place.

       On offense, I played tight end, receiving the balls, and taking some yards along. On defense, I played the position of safety, running after streak, and slant plays of the trickery wide receiver. I remember catching the first ball as a tight end. I ran so fast on the right side of the shaded field, and being hit so hard causing my right arm to scrape and bled on the patches of ice. On defense, I remember chasing after a receiver, waiting until he caught the ball and hoping to give him my hardest hit. Instead, I found him left me on the dust in the end zone.

       I remember that afternoon when I played my first football game with the big guys. I left the field with blood on my hands, pants, and on my thorn shirt. Yes I left the field with pain and agony, but I sure showed them that in me laid strength of twelve men. In life, I told myself, many problems I will face. However, if I have the strength and the perseverance, nothing can stop me. As long as I keep getting up and running forward to the end zone, to the goal of my life.

Written by, Assdhy F. Lolowang, based on a personal experience.