A Story Full of Grace

The year was 1986. I was playing football for THE Lovington (N.M.) High School Wildcats as a Senior. The team was undefeated going into the next playoff game against a noble St. Pius X team from Albuquerque. Because of a higher seed in the playoffs, Lovington had won the right to host the game on a Saturday afternoon. Rabid fans in the stands were painted blue and white (young and old with few exceptions). There's nothing like playoff football in Lovington. Anyone ever heard of Chicago Bear Brian Urlacher? Enough said. Anyway, I digress.

In the third quarter of the game, things were going well for the home team. Lovington found things to be going as planned (28-0). St. Pius had the ball on their own fifteen. Our coach felt it was still too early to substitute for the starters. Although a little "winded", I was still rushing the quarterback (as defensive tackle) play after play.

The quarterback dropped back to pass and was hit by my fellow defensive tackle, causing the quarterback to drop the football. Only grass separated me from the football and 6 points for the Big Blue. This was my chance to be a hero, garnish some All-State votes, be written about in the paper, have Division I schools calling to offer great scholarships, and be carried off the field by other teammates. I exagerate a little. But do you know what goes through the head of a seventeen year-old when things like this happen?

I reached down and gathered the pigskin around the 8 yard line. This would surely put the game away. I could hear the fans yelling for a few seconds before everything went quiet. It seemed like everything began to move in slow motion. I was on my way to stardom! And then...

It must have been a blade of grass around the 5. Who was supposed to mow anyway? Shouldn't this grass have been mowed recently? After all, this is a playoff game. Maybe it should have been mowed this morning. No! There's no maybe to it. This grass should have been mowed. And it wasn't! The grass caused me to stumble toward the goal line and eventually land on the football at the 2. Slowly, sound came back to my ears. I opened my eyes to notice I was short of a touchdown and being a hero. The offense would have to come in and complete what we started.

I laid on the field longer than usual. I was hurt. It wasn't my arms or legs. I hadn't had the wind knocked out of me. I had been brought back to reality. I would eventually have to go back to the sidelines and be harassed for "tripping over my own feet" and not being able to score. Needless to say, I was not looking forward to the experience.

A few teammates picked me up and congratulated me on the "Great play!". But they were encouraging me to get off of the field. Eventually the game would have to resume. Upon reaching the sidelines, there were a few jibs. But there were more chest bumps, congrats, and pats on the back than I'd expected. In fact, no one on the sideline had expected me to score. After all, I was a defensive tackle. I'd received grace. My actions on the play have also been described as "graceful."

Any stories you want to share?