I forgot to make a journal last week.
It was the second bye-week of our season and in the absence of a game, a training session was arranged. The weather was scorchingly hot. I doubled the amount of water I took and still managed to drink it all. One receiver was absent and another was injured, the injured receiver took reps at quarterback - he is multi-skilled. The shallow depth at receiver meant I got a lot of reps, I was happy about this. I got more balls thrown at me than usual, I got open on a lot of In routes from the right and Post routes from the left. I caught a better ratio than average too. Sadly I fumbled the ball once and jammed my shoulder, the fumble didn't result from contact, I simply lost control of the ball whilst trying to tuck it away. I will work on my ball security.
I cannot rest my shoulder during the week as I have been tasked with digging some footings for an extension. The project has a strict time-limit attached to it, I will have to eat some pain-killers and try and alter my posture so as to place the stress on the opposite shoulder. I go to mid-week training, I cannot rest so I may as well get some practice in. Catching feels fine, it is just weight bearing motions that hurt.
Sunday comes and the weather has turned, clear skies and stifling heat have been replaced with skies of solid grey and persistent drizzle. Some club drama means we are not playing at our regular home ground and will instead play at an unseen rugby club. The pitch is fairly level and well marked, the grass is quite long but that is not a problem. As I arrive at the ground, it is drizzling. I get kitted up in the cramped changing-room, it would have been designed for fifteen to twenty rugby players instead of thirty to forty football players. I wade through the sea of players still getting changed, clutching my bag in one hand and my bundle of pads and helmet in the other, I stand on several toes and stumble, eventually I make it outside. The drizzle persists and it is much colder than I anticipated. I have left my leggings at home and I already have a thermal vest and long-sleeved shirt on. It will be much warmer once we start moving.
Punt team is the first to practice and I stand in as the left-hand gunner. I am told that is my position for the game and I am happy. Kickoff practices next and I am not involved in this. The quarterback emerges from the changing rooms and wishes to warm up his arm. The first few throws are nice and gentle, they are easy to catch and boost confidence. As his arm loosens up the throws get harder, they smash into my cold hands, each one stinging. I under-arm the caught balls to the other quarterback stood to my right and he throws to another receiver, the loop continues for about five minutes. Warm-up proper starts and then we split up into our separate groups. The rain increases in size and frequency and results in several passes being put down. I take off my gloves and attempt to keep my hands dry, my grip improves marginally. It is time for the match to start and the rain eases off.
The opposition has travelled down from Scotland, it is a nasty trip to make. They are depleted in numbers and several players are playing both ways. I believe we lose the toss. We run all over them with the wishbone formation. On our second possession the quarterback attempts to force a pass and it results in an interception. The opposition has several three-and-out drives. We score several times in the first-half and only punt once. The punt goes out of bounds at the one-yard line, I thought it went out the side of the end-zone as I raced towards it. Thankfully I do not get blind-sided.
In the second-half one of the starters pulls out from kickoff, I am his replacement and after some rejigging of the personnel, I am outside-contain on the left. Coach tells me to run/jog down the sideline and ensure the ball-carrier does not get behind me or close to the sideline. I execute these instruction as closely as I can and watch as the runner disappears under a pile of gold and blue bodies. An American player pulls me to one side and tells me to sprint every time I am on special teams, I choose to ignore him. There are no further punts or kickoffs in the game, however we are up by thirty points and as such garbage-time begins just inside the fourth-quarter.
I am paired up with a rookie receiver and sent out, due to the weather and wanting to run down the clock, run plays are called. I don't particularly mind, I enjoy blocking and I am happy to be out on the field. Most runs are called up the gut or to the opposite side and as such I don't have alot to do, but on a twenty-four dive I make a block and the back bounces to the outside, sadly he goes the wrong way and my corner peels off my block and tackles the runner at the sideline. On the sideline several people congratulate me on my block and I am unsure if they are being sarcastic. One pass play is called, a roll-out to the left. I have a 'ten and in' pattern. I feel I find a gap in between the coverage but I am unsure where the ball ends up. On our final drive, inside the two-minute warning, Coach sends in a rookie running-back, this will be his first carry. The run is up and the gut and he coughs the ball up, I run a slant-type route to try and intercept the corner, I stumble and nearly slide onto the ball. The opposition pick up the ball. Time expires with the ball in their possession.
We line-up on the sideline and exchange pleasantries with our adversaries, we then break off for our post-game huddle and cheering festivities. I get changed and place my gear into my car, I head upstairs to the bar. Some sort of pie is on offer for one pound a portion, complimentary white bread is provided. I get a bottle of Holsten-Pills from the bar and am charged two pounds fifty-pence. I feel slightly robbed. I sit in the corner near the defence as I can see no better opportunities, I notice the twenty-twenty cricket is on the television in the far corner and head over, several offensive-line players are here and some other offensive players. England are playing Pakistan, England must win having lost to the Netherlands - who knew the Netherlands played cricket. I get another portion of pie, this time complimentary, and a bottle of Budweiser, sadly it is priced the same as the Holsten. I drink my drink and then we decide to leave. I hop into my car and drive home, cold and damp but satisfied to have contributed in a minor way.
