A Random Narrative

I wrote this up for one of my classes. It's a true story, and one that made me a bit untrusting when compared to my former bright and cheery self. Feel free to skip it if you don't enjoy non-fiction. But as an Author with a Patreon, I feel like it's my duty to present all of my writing to you.

Note: This is intentionally written with a vocabulary for young secondary school students.

Touching

By J.D. Mullenary Sr.

In my freshman year of football, I was a second-stringer. For those not, "in the know", that means I was played in games only when we were ahead, or the top players needed a break. Standing at about five-foot-six and weighing over two hundred pounds, I wasn't anyone's go-to guy for anything.

About five games into the season, I'd touched the field somewhere around twenty times. More than some, but much less than most. It gnawed at me. That's when game number six came in. 

My team was scheduled to go against the San Marcus Royals, the rival High School across town. There was no love between the two schools, and our coaches did a solid job revving us up for the battle. They'd pumped us full of adrenaline and a need to hit people. I felt that. The grasp of violence and a need to prove myself to my peers.

Around the end of the third quarter, a punt return was called out. While I was a second-stringer in most positions, I was first on punt return. Though I was small and heavy, I could sprint with the best of them, a vital statistic for special teams. And this time around, I wanted to do something.

The ball snaps, the kicker holds it, a thwacking sound occurs, and I was off. I turned around and sprinted for everything I was worth. I was running so hard that I didn't even notice when I passed by the guys who were supposed to catch the ball. Nor did I hear the players and coaches yelling from the sideline. If I had paid attention, I'd have known they were yelling at me to get away from the ball.

There's an old football rule out there. Once the opposing team has released the ball, if your team touches it, it's live and can be recovered. So it was with some shock that something punched into the back of my helmet. I turned around and everything seemed to be in slow motion.

A guy in a jersey color that wasn't my own was lifting the ball off the ground. I ran forward, not knowing what was happening, and took him out at the legs. It was a solid tackle. But that didn't seem to matter as my own team lifted me up off the ground and began to yell at me profusely. By trying my hardest to get there, I'd inadvertently given possession of the ball back to our rival team. It was a horrifying mistake, and something I was made fun of for years after, causing my team to lose against the San Marcus Royals.

But I also learned something. 

Tunnel vision is metaphorically defined as having an intense focus on a singular goal to the exclusion of all else. My need to show off damaged my reputation far more than my height or position on the team. And while I did better in later seasons, moving up to Captaincy at one point, that moment has stuck with me these twenty years later.

Looking back, I realize that sometimes the greatest mistakes teach the clearest lessons. That day, I didn’t just touch the ball, I touched a truth that’s carried me through a lifetime of new memories. Focus matters more than speed, because in life, just like on the field, knowing where you’re going matters more than how fast you get there.