Football First

CJ Garnett had long since given up on the game. Even the fans were morosely quiet: 42-7 with three minutes to go. They had come to watch what should have been a close match. Instead they were watching a routing. Garnett imagined fans across the country gathered in front of their televisions feeling gypped out of a good game. God, what a jerk Cummings was. Resentment flared leaving the taste of bile. It was a shame coach had been forced into putting Cummings in when their first-string quarterback, golden-boy Dillard, had blown out his one good knee the second play of the game.

Dillard had been taken off the field and Cummings, the second-string quarterback, had leaped up, eager to get on the field and prove his prowess, even before the coach had given him the nod. He was an excellent quarterback, but it was his attitude that rubbed Garnett the wrong way. He was all ego. The way he strode onto the field showed that there was no question in his mind that this game was going to be his.  

Cummings had given Garnett trouble from the first day of practice: Endless ribbing about Garnett’s smaller stature; focused attention on any throws that did not hit their mark; and, undue hilarity when Garnett got sacked during a scrimmage. At one practice he had lobbed the ultimate insult: “Garnett, you’re throwing like a girl.” Worst of all, was the overall assumption of his superior skills as a quarterback. Garnett knew how to weather ribbing, but Cummings’ insults were barbed with spite and true animosity.

While it should have given Garnett pleasure watching Cummings screw up at the Super Bowl, it was hard not to feel bad for the team. They had all worked tirelessly to get to the Super Bowl. Divisions on the team had been mostly erased by the single passion to win game after game. Garnett had watched the team come together with each win.

And now it was falling apart. The players exchanged looks as Cummings held onto the ball a fraction of a second too long and got sacked. Three of his passes were way off and left the running back hanging. Even from the bench, Garnett could see that the huddle was agitated, the men not comfortable with Cummings’ leadership style and dismayed by his errors on the field.

While the season itself had been a triumph for the team, it had been a personal disaster. The constant taunting from Cummings had been the least of it. Coach took a particular delight in working his rookies the hardest. Garnett was no stranger to hard work, but had always considered it a part of the process: You work hard, prove yourself, and then get to play. But there had been no play time all season for the third string quarterback.

For the thousandth time Garnett could not help thinking about the opportunity given up: The basketball scholarship that would have led to plenty of active play time---and eventually the pros, endorsements, and all the rest. Nobody remembered the losing team at the Super Bowl, and certainly not the players on the losing team who didn’t even play.

And then there was the legacy: Grandpa Bob and dad had both had storied careers in professional basketball. By age four, Garnett could competently dribble down the court and reliably sink hook shots on an 8 foot basket. Hours were spent with dad, and grandpa when he visited, honing basketball skills.

But when Garnett had seen the odd shaped pigskin ball flying across the field at age five, it had been love at first sight. The expertise in quick pivots, eye-hand coordination, and running endurance built from hours on the basketball court had made Garnett a superstar on the youth football team.

Mom had been the first to work with Garnett on passing the ball and helping with memorizing the plays. Growing up with three brothers, she had spent many hours watching football and tossing the ball around. She had been an excellent basketball player herself, but this was long before there were professional opportunities for women to continue to play.

At first, dad saw any time spent on football, as time stolen from basketball. By middle school, however, he was on board with the juggling of the two sports. Grandpa Bob, now hobbled by arthritis, was content to cheer proudly from the stands whenever his talented grandchild played.

        Fortunately, Cooper High School placed great emphasis on athletics, and Garnett was allowed to play both sports. Junior and senior years the basketball team made it to State Finals, in a large part due to Garnett’s skill as a shooting guard. They did not win either year, but the scouts took notice of Garnett’s brilliance on the court. The offers started coming in.

        While the high school football team did not have as much success, scouts came to the school because of the reputation of the school itself, and they noticed Garnett. The quarterback had the skills and the grit they were looking for. 

        When opportunity to play football at the state college presented itself, Garnett enthusiastically embraced it. The basketball opportunities were pushed to the side. The whole town cheered the decision, dad and grandpa reconciling themselves to the end of the basketball legacy.  At the university, Garnett spent every waking minute apart from getting through classes and classwork, on the football field. And once again, the scouts noticed. Picked in the third round of the draft, Garnett became a pro-player.  

Garnett gave a start. The coach had stopped his usual pacing and was gesticulating down the bench. Garnett looked towards the field in time to catch Cummings, head lowered, walking off. His usual saunter was gone. Cummings pulled off his helmet and turned to heave his heavy bulk onto the bench as Garnett stood up. In that moment their eyes locked and Cummings gave a curt nod. Garnett stepped onto the field.

The crowd, catching the historic moment, came alive and cheered wildly. Garnett acknowledged them with a quick wave. Then she tucked her hair into her helmet, snapped the strap, and trotted over to her waiting team.