Cheated.
How one game was the catalyst to the end of my love for football
The game of football has always been special to me. My childhood was centered around the New England Patriots dynasty, and I fell in love. Much like everyone else’s favorite, Tom Brady was and still is that dude. After begging my mom to sign me up for my local team, I was a member of the Johnston Panthers flag football team at the age of 6. I was a natural talent, but I had to wait four years to have my chance to emulate the Patriots, and I often take myself back to the year 2010.
One Game at a Time
Our season has started horribly. Our first game was lost due to my 4th quarter fumble that was returned for a touchdown. I took a handoff around the edge with only one defender in front of me. He caught me, and as I was going down, he ripped the ball out of my arms. I laid on the turf distraught, preparing for the countless ball security drills I would be assigned for the upcoming week of practice.
We have limped our way to the halfway point of the season, still waiting for a good performance. We are up against the CLCF Chiefs, but the game is over as soon as it starts. We are sloppy early on, and one of our coaches has gotten ejected right before halftime. We end up not scoring the entire game. After the game, our head coach only has one thing to say. “We know that we’re better than this, and we still have a chance to make it to the playoffs. One game at a time.”
As the weeks pass, we settle in. The wins pile up and we feel that no one can stop us. We sneak into the playoffs and win our first game, earning a semifinal rematch against CLCF.
Next Stop, Super Bowl
As I walk onto the field at Johnston Senior High School on a crisp November afternoon, something is calming about what lies ahead. The butterflies are having their way with my stomach, but I know that something is going to go right. I strap on my helmet and head to the visitor’s sideline, where our team is located for our matchup with the Chiefs.
The game begins, and not much happens in the first quarter. We are matching the Chiefs early on, a different story from a couple of weeks ago. This can only be good for us. I can feel my teammates start to realize that we have gotten much better since we last faced the Chiefs.
We reach the second quarter, and the game is still tied. After making a tackle I run over to the sideline to catch a break for one play. As I search the bench for my water bottle, I start to hear screams from the far side of the field. I make my way back to the front of the line, only to see the CLCF running back in the endzone. The play went for 50 yards, and memories of the first game began to play in my head. Luckily our defense stops them from converting the two-point conversion, keeping the score 6–0 as we head to halftime.
Although we were losing, the confidence was rising. My teammates and I knew that we could easily win this game and surprise a lot of people. I was ready to get back on the field and show CLCF why we had made it this far.
The second half starts, and I am on the field for defense. Their first play is a reverse, but a couple of my teammates snuff it out and make the Chief’s retreat. I line up for the next play and no one is guarding me. As soon as the ball snaps, I have open space between myself and the quarterback. I begin to chase him down, and he tries to spin away. I manage to grab a handful of his green and gold jersey and toss him to the ground. Now the Chiefs are backed up, and we have the momentum. It is 3rd down and the ball snaps. The quarterback looks to throw so that they can gain lost yards back, but it backfires. One of my teammates intercepts the ball and returns it close to the endzone.
As the offense comes onto the field with the crowd cheering violently in the background, I stay on the field. The play is called in the huddle, a run play for me. I line up behind the quarterback eager to get the ball and fight my way to tie the game. The ball is snapped, and I see defenders in front of me immediately, so I change direction. I use my teammates as obstacles and zig-zag my way in for a touchdown. 6–6.
A failed two-point conversion keeps the game tied, but not for long. Back on defense, the Chiefs fumble the ball on their second play, and our team recovers. Once again, our offense takes the field, and we slowly move the ball down the field. I contribute to the drive with a key block, which sets the tone for the second half. As the game moves into the fourth quarter, I take a handoff and replicate my earlier effort to give us the lead. It is now 12–6, and the Chiefs are running out of time.
I now watch from the sidelines as the Chiefs manage to move the ball to the 15-yard line. With under a minute left, they have one more chance to tie the game. The quarterback drops back to pass, and the ball falls incomplete.
After some brief celebration, I trot onto the field for the final couple of plays. We run out the clock, and the game is over. We won.
My biggest accomplishment in 10 years on earth is immediately overshadowed by the week to come. We now have one more team to beat, the Providence 49ers.
Gameday
As I walk through the gates to our home field, I can barely feel my hands and feet. I am nervous, but the freezing temperatures are the main factor in my trembles. I climb the stairs to the stands with my mom, waiting for the first game of the morning to start. All of Johnston’s youth teams made it to the Super Bowl, and our game was the last to be played.
The hours tick by and several Johnston victories unfold before my eyes. To catch a break, I leave the stands and head towards the concession stand. As I stand in line, my anxiety grows. Every fan seems to be staring at me as they walk by, and I can feel their expectations building on my shoulders. I quickly order a hot dog and hot chocolate and return to the comfort of my mom, but the task that lies ahead keeps eating me alive.
One by one more of my teammates begin to arrive, signaling to me that it is almost time to get ready, no matter how much I would enjoy staying a spectator. I did want to play in the game, but somehow my butterflies had turned into downright fear. I cannot seem to figure out why I feel this way, but I know that something is off.
The sun begins to set, the cue for me to get into uniform and join my team for warmups. The air is crisp and rather silent except for the distant cheers as yet another Panther squad accepts their Super Bowl trophy.
Before we make our way down to the field, we have to verify ourselves to a game official. Our head coach hands over our stack of birth certificates to a coach from the 49ers, who is accompanied by one of the referees. We form a single file line in alphabetical order, and I make my way to the front and recite my birthday. Meanwhile, one of our coaches is participating in the same process for the 49er players.
We finish our warmup and make it onto the field just in time to watch the last game before ours wrap up. I watch in agony as a Johnston player intercepts a pass, sealing the win. All of the Panther teams won their Super Bowl, and now it was all on us to execute the sweep.
Finally, we settle into our sideline and send our kicking team out to start the game. I watch from the sidelines, fearful of how the next 48 minutes are going to unfold.
Down, But Not Out
I step on the field and make my way to the right end, where I play defense. The 49ers break the huddle. The ball is snapped and is handed off towards the left, and my gut feeling is instantly confirmed. I watch from a distance as a burgundy and gold jersey makes its way through our defense. He walks into the endzone on the first play, and we are losing 6–0. I faintly let out a sigh, realizing that we have a long night ahead of us. The 49ers convert the two-point conversion, making the score 8–0 early on.
As the offense trots onto the field, I notice something irregular on the other side of the ball. One of the 49ers players appears to have shown up for the wrong game. Twice the size of our biggest player, the defender made me swallow my tongue. Whatever confidence I had left had just evaporated into thin air. There had to of been a mistake, there was no way that this kid was 10 years old, and if he was, I needed his diet.
Our first drive on offense was unsuccessful but we began to gain momentum in the second quarter. All of our plays were runs, but we used all different types of players to confuse the 49ers. Slowly but surely, we made it near the endzone. A quarterback sneak helped us tie the game.
We had lost a lot of energy on that drive, and I knew that we needed to play a perfect game to have a chance at taking down the 49ers. We still had a lot to celebrate, but I was worried that my teammates would lose sight of our long-term goal.
Losing Focus
Our defense was performing better, but the 49ers were still threatening to score again. Disaster strikes as the ball is snapped but nobody on the 49ers offensive line moves. This confuses our defense, as we suspect a flag is going to be thrown. As we look over to our coaches, the quarterback of the 49ers takes off. Before we realize that the whistle was never blown, the points were being added to the scoreboard.
As I walk back to the sideline with my head down, it feels like we are losing by 20 points. We still have a chance, but the real barrier is recovering the team’s morale.
As the third quarter winds down, our offense is getting stuffed. Any progress we make is immediately canceled out on the next play by the giant on the other team. The 49ers tack on another touchdown as our hope begins to fade into the distance.
One More Chance
Offensively we are trying everything to put up some points. Some runs were working as the 49ers were getting a little tired, so a play is called for me. I take the handoff up the middle and manage to find some space. As I get surrounded by the defense, I feel a helmet collide with my leg as I fall to the dirt. I toss the ball to the referee and get up, surprised to find out that I can barely walk back to the huddle. I limp off the field to one of our coaches who checks out my knee.
After getting some ice and water, I know that our chance is not great, but I have to get back on the field. I begin to sprint up and down the sideline to gain my mobility back. I begin to feel better as the offense turns over the ball, which means we need a defensive stop. I hobble back onto the field, trying my best to contribute to a comeback.
Oddly enough, the 49ers snap the ball and drop back for a pass, even though they have a 12-point lead. I hold my position on the right edge as I notice one of my teammates chasing the quarterback. I focus on the ball as the quarterback gets hit but still tries to complete the pass. The ball ricochets towards me and lands right in my arms. My eyes immediately shift towards the endzone, and no one is in front of me. I start my sprint, but soon after getting torn down from behind. Although I was not able to score a touchdown, our team had life. We had great field position and needed to score quickly to put pressure on the 49ers.
It was too late. Smothered by the 49er defense, we barely moved the ball 5 yards. The 49ers went back on offense and their sideline began to celebrate. As the clock hit zero, I limped back to my sideline to participate in the handshake line. Our great run had come to an end, and we were so close to winning. My teammates and I had let the town of Johnston down, and my fears quickly turned into tears.
Controversy
To this day I replay the game in my head, imagining what could have gone differently. One thing for certain was that 13-year-olds did not belong on a team of 10-year-olds. A couple of months after our loss, one of our coaches found out that the 49ers provided their best player with a fake birth certificate. He passed the verification process on gameday, confirming my gut feeling when I was matched up against a kid that was twice my size in every figure possible.
No punishment was given, and we were left with a sour taste in our mouths. We will never know if the outcome would have been different if a fair game was played, but the reality is I will never get that chance.
Looking Back
Losing that game brings me a lot of painful memories, but it was also the best thing to ever happen to me.
The foundational lesson I learned that night was that life is not fair. You may get an equal opportunity, but the outcome is not guaranteed. Being objective and not making excuses for yourself will clear your mind just like it had mine. Understanding the facts of your environment makes everything easier since you have no doubts about what is in front of you. Some lessons do not immediately make an impact on your life, but they always find a way back in when you need them.
Throughout high school, I carried this game with me and added other monumental moments to my bag of lessons. Accepting yourself as a whole is not an easy task, but once you stop wasting time on excuses, you begin to control your destiny. I often drive by the field where my love for football as an athlete was shattered. I try to learn something new about that moment every time it pops into my head so that I can carve the way ahead to more meaningful trophies.
