We
had a major upgrade to the Turkey Bowl this year. Instead of playing in the street in front of
the house, we all went over to Jones Park, just across Jones Drive from
us. As it turned out we were the only
ones there, so we had the whole thing to ourselves. Swings, playground equipment, and of course a
large swath of open field for the most important portion of the day …
football.
And
it was a pretty good, inter-generational game, too. All three of our sons were there. Cory and Sarah came. Jachin brought a friend, so we had some
teenage-style athleticism (And that
friend was already talking smack before the game even began. Jachin and I were talking about the upcoming
game, and Austin interrupted. Looking at
me and pointing hesitantly, he asked, “Wait, are YOU playing?” Ouch.
Now them’s near fightin’ words, you young whippersnapper). Micah and Zakary played, too, so the eleven-year-old,
younger generation was well-represented.
Four-year-old Luke made an appearance.
Took me to the ground quite easily.
Caleb played for a while. He is a
baseball player, so he said he felt out of his element on the football
field. Not to worry. His Dad assured him that he would tell him
exactly what to do. And so the instructions
began. On the first play from scrimmage
I was the quarterback. Caleb was
rushing. And when the dust cleared, my
shoes were untied. Yep. That’s what he was instructed to do. In an effort to slow his rush down a little,
Josh told him to count to ten first. On
the next play I heard, “One, two, ten,” and he was off to the races. The one command I never heard carried through
was when he was told to sing the entire Happy Birthday son before rushing. So the next time I was on defense, that’s
exactly what I did. Oh, and I forgot to
mention … Ezra ran through a play or two as well in his Daddy’s arms. He certainly had the football scowl
going.
It was
a back and forth offensive battle all the way.
In fact we lost track of the score.
There was that one unbelievable defensive gem, however. That one play that strikes fear into the
hearts of offenses everywhere. It came
late in the game. Josh was leading his
team in a March down the field. Suddenly
it became evident that that they were going for all the marbles. Josh dodged a rusher, he faked to his left,
then to his right, then back to his left, then to his right. Finally he reached back to the very core of
his being and let fly a bullet of a bomb to his receiver way downfield. The toss, however, was woefully short of its
target, and more of a line drive than a towering spiral. It was rocketing right toward the free
safety, DadDad (Free safety is the catch-all
term for the old guy who couldn’t really cover anybody so he stood around in
the defensive backfield and wreaked havoc upon all who entered his domain … for
the second and a half they were usually there). But this time all eyes were on the free
safety. The ball was coming right at
him. Uh oh, this would be a
problem. The ball’s trajectory was
rapidly diminishing. He could still make
a play on it, though. All he had to do
was dive at just the right moment.
Wait. This was DadDad,
right? No diving was happening in his
neck of the woods. So the tension eased
a bit on the offense. An incomplete pass
they could handle. Some even dropped
their heads and began the slow trudge back to the huddle for the next
play. But those who did that missed the
most magical play of the day, of the year, of the decade, nay, even of the entire
revival years of the Turkey Bowl itself.
The
ball continued to drop. DadDad decided
early on against the foolhardiness of the dive, but he had one ace up his
sleeve. Well, maybe in his shoe. For as the ball arrived, he casually lifted
his left foot right into the path of the flying orb. There was the crunch of leather on
leather. The ball abruptly stopped its
forward movement. For an agonizing
second it remained in contact with that foot. Forever enshrined in instant
replay history (Well, it would have been
if anyone had been filming). And then
came the impossible. Instead of flying
off in haphazard fashion as expected by all, the ball lazily lifted off the
shoe … and right into the waiting arms of a grinning DadDad. Oh, there was no attempt at a further
runback. None was needed. He merely bowed to his left and to his right,
acknowledged the gift from the passer (poor
Josh), and set up for the next play.
What a play. What a clinic of
defensive secondary work.
In fact,
the play was so extraordinary that when the group gathered after the game for
the media photo session, a decision was made.
See, we decided to reinstate the idea of an MVP trophy. Aunt Christi will have one made before next game
(Can you get it done in a year, Christi?
Better than the fifteen minutes we were going to give you). And in honor of this year’s player of the game
(a close winner over “the girl.” Great game, Sarah) the name of this new
trophy will be The DadDad’s Foot MVP Award.
Can’t wait to see that one.
Psalms
5:12 says, “For surely, O Lord, you bless
the righteous; you surround them with your favor as with a shield.”
Father,
thank you for family football games and parks to play them in. Amen.
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