There he goes folks, the man, the myth, the legend…

You know, I never kept up with sports with such passion, such interest, until now. Sure I had my favorite teams growing up as a kid in the “eighties” – the Forty Niners, the Spurs, and the Longhorns. But I never paid attention to the actual players, stats, and history.

Nostalgic memories bring back the “days” after Thanksgiving at my Aunt’s house: leftover turkey with a Longhorn-Aggie game on the side. I can remember the “Hemisphere Arena” in San Antonio, Texas where the legend of The “Admiral,” David Robinson was born. And who could forget the “Niners and the Cowboys?" Wasn’t that the only game that mattered? I can honestly say that these three teams have remained my personal favorites throughout my life. And now – thanks to fantasy leagues, point spreads, and ESPN – they make sports all that much more fun and interesting to watch, so much so that I am now very seriously contemplating a career in the field (no pun intended!). Not actually playing, of course; that would be against the laws of physics. Actually, my football career ended back, oh, around the fall of ’89.

We” were the St. Anthony Eagles, and “we” had spirit. Yes “we” did – all eleven of us. Our two-and-eight record was a direct reflection of the courage, the strength and the heart we displayed every week under the “Friday Night Lights.” It also reflected why none of us went pro. I proudly wore a blue jersey bearing the number “82.” My helmet was all white with a blue stripe running right down the middle. I used to hate that thing; my ears stuck out so much that every time I took the darn thing off it hurt like hell.

I played a number of positions. Now days I would be known as the “all purpose back.” On offense, I played tailback, tight end, or wide receiver; on defense I played strong safety. I also sometimes returned punts, too, if you want to call it that. My 5 ft. 100 lbs frame allowed me to be very versatile, very quick – the “X-Factor” if you will. Or maybe I played all those positions because there simply weren’t enough players to go around. And maybe I ran fast because I was just very scared. I never did grasp the ingenious concept of playing strong safety, although I did have one “pick” in my entire two-year career. On offense, my “one” career reception with my eyes closed while playing as tight end was very “game breaking” if you ask me (an easy top-ten highlight). As tailback I had some pretty good carries when my number was called, and since we were playing in a wishbone formation, uh, that was never, the fullback and halfback got all the calls.

I did have one big play, though – my one big chance to show what I was made of. This was a play that I’ll never forget as long as I live. That Friday night the sky was crystal clear. The only thing shining other than the stadium lights were the stars, filled with some kid’s wish. As the cool breeze of the October night brushed against your skin, memories and chills of your first love came to mind. Just the fact that there were actual fans in the stadium that evening, you just knew the night was special.

Now I can’t remember the exact name of the play that was called that night, but it was one of those plays were the entire team blocks right, and one person goes left, with the ball intact. And, yes, I was that “one” player … that one “warrior” … “the mighty Eagle himself” who “took one” for the team.

If John Madden would’ve called the game that night it would have gone something like this: “You know you got to love this Eagle football team. Sure they are 0-6 but they got a lot of heart. They show up and take a pounding, week after week after week; that’s great. That number 82, you gotta’ love him; now that’s my kinda’ player. He’s all over the field: offense, defense, hasn’t touched the ball since ’88 but he never gives up. Okay, now the Eagles are facing a third-and-long, and get this, they’re in actual position to score. Whatta’ you do here, Al? “I don’t know, John; if I were the Eagles I’d punt.” Well I’ll tell you what I’d do. I’d give the ball to number 82; nobody with a pulse would expect it.”

And that’s exactly what the Eagles did. They gave the ball to number 82. The play worked great; it tricked the entire defense and I got the first down. As a matter of fact, the play worked so great that it tricked my left foot to get stuck in the grass so when I got tackled, it tricked my ligaments in my left knee to tear. That play, that injury, that whole series of events, I feel, had a long-term effect on my life. It even blurs out the game a couple of weeks earlier where I caught a touchdown pass only to be five feet out of bounds. I remember my Dad asked me after the game, “Why’d they call that touchdown back?” “’Cause I was out,” I said.

I know my Dad wanted me to score a touchdown just as much as I wanted to score one for him. I never did, though. Sorry, Dad. But I truly believe if that night would have been different if I would have gotten up and shaken off the hit; a couple of plays later I would have been in that end zone. My confidence would have skyrocketed and my life would have been a lot different. My Dad would have been so proud. Instead, I went to the hospital that night and never played football again. That last game was my state Championship, my Rose Bowl, my Super Bowl, and I blew it, literally.

Anyway, so like I said before … I’m seriously thinking about a career in sports. There’s sports photography, sports psychology … even coaching. I just want to be around the action, the emotion, the intensity: everything that drives me to be my best. Maybe I’ll be a sportswriter. I could write about the time I hit two consecutive buckets and made the other coach call a time out.

Now that’s a story ...