Mr. Quarterback

I stepped onto the cold, muddy field.  Puddles had begun to form, I could see my breath.  People who could not normally care less turned their eyes toward the football field.  I heard my name being called out, there was a frenzy that had rarely been seen before.

I had arrived, Mr. Quarterback, it had a nice ring to it.  But I didn't have time to dwell, the time was now!  Game clock started, it was the first play.  I yelled orders to my team.  Hike!  It was like a roar, a battle-cry coming from my lips.  My team began to run their routes, the other team was rushing.  I scrambled, narrowly avoided their grasp, set my feet and let it fly.

The ball spiraled toward the end-zone in a way that would have made David of old, and his slingshot, proud.  I heard a collective gasp, they had never seen such a pass, TOUCHDOWN!

The crowd wanted more, there was no way they were going to let me leave the field.  All-time QB they pleaded.  I graciously accepted. I began to lead the opposing team down the field.  Slants, posts, even running it a time or two, another touchdown!

In the space of 15 minutes I had 8 touchdown passes, and 1 rushing touchdown.  Then the bell rang and recess was over.  We lined up and went inside, but the mud on our shoes, and each squishy step they made, reminded us of the magic we felt that day.