I hate being held hostage to something I have no control over. I had every intention of either going to a Bible study tonight or seeing White Bird in a Blizzard at the Cinematheque. It could have gone either way, but I was waiting for the furnace guy to call me today. He didn't give a guarantee, but I was hoping for some sort of resolution to this story. It's a very weird thing to actually have the ringer of my phone turned on, as I almost always have it set to vibrate. And I got zero calls today. I didn't want to go to either event in case the furnace guy decided no time was too late, and I was going to get a loud annoying call in the middle of something. So, instead, I got some McDonalds, went home and am now going back and forth between watching football and watching the greatest silent Fritz Lang expressionistic German film - Metropolis. Not a bad night by any stretch of the imagination, but not what I particularly wanted to do tonight.
So I sit here watching sports, and I think I'm going to write about some of my history with organized sports.
I've always loved baseball, but when I was in the 3rd and 4th grades I played touch football for school. And I was pretty good. I practiced with the older kids, and that's what I really remember about that time. I practiced hard. This was years ago, and I don't really remember how good I was, but I did get a trophy for "Most Promising Player Award" so I was either okay or I had a lot of heart. I think it was a mixture of both. I do remember the final game of my career, because we were winning going into the last play. We were on defense, and the other team threw a "Hail Mary" pass (oddly appropriate since it was probably two Catholic schools playing) that was batted in the air and caught in the endzone by the other team. I remember the coach berating us for not knocking the ball down, as opposed to knocking it in the air.
And that was the end of my "professional" football career. I wasn't that disappointed that my new school didn't have a football program, since I never really had as much passion for that as I did with baseball (even though it only took a couple more years to squash that dream as well). I never had the "What if?" moment that I've always had with baseball. That "What if I had continued playing football throughout my life?" question that I'm certain probably haunts others. I was perfectly content to play hours of Nerf football in the street with my friends. It was much less stressful. And, as the pick-up tackle game in college that ended with two bloody lips for me proved, I was perfectly content with my decision to let the game go.
I had heart. I had talent. I was a huge fan of the Kardiac Kids. But I just didn't have the passion. I enjoy watching football now, and I look back on those two years proudly (hey, I got a trophy!), but the sport still doesn't move me as much as baseball does. It might be my own mindset. But, hey, pitchers and catcher report in about 5 weeks.