Football

Sorry I haven’t posted lately. I’ve been traveling a bit. Plus, I was finding every post began with “So…Fornite.” I would rather this not turn into a Fortnite fan blog. Plus, I’ve officially quit the game after my miraculous victory. Going out on top and all.

A few weeks ago, the Hamanns experienced a brief and intense love affair with football. Driven, of course, by Luca. But to my surprise Elijah also started asking to play football at the park. I was all for it. Firstly to shift attention away from the game we shall not mention. Plus, I figured there was something Kennedy-esc about tossing the old pigskin around after a nice family meal and some low level corruption.

We even managed to convince cousins Finn and Rory to join us a few Saturdays ago. Plus Uncle Steve! After a brief and intense argument about teams, Steve and I couldn’t convince the kids to let us play on the same side. So it was me, Luca and Finn against the losers.

On the walk to the park, I stopped short and grabbed Luca by the arm.

“We’re playing for fun, right? We aren’t here to dominate our cousins, right? Fuuuuun.”

Luca responded by smearing mud under each eye. “Let’s do this.”

After a brief Q and A about the rules of football (no, this isn’t the one with the bat), we got it on. Oh, doctor. What a game. With the combination of ages and skill level, it was a fun, evenly matched game. Luca stalked the field with muddy intensity. Eli Gumby shape made him a perfect wide receiver. Finn is speedy on his little legs and no one wanted to hurt Rory so she scored a few touchdowns.

Steve and I made sure each kid got their hands on the ball and made darned sure we didn’t have to run.

Until the last play. We were on the one yard line, or the 50 yard line. I’m no longer sure. But we needed a big play. So we decided to execute the Statue of Liberty. Or was it a fumblerooski? Or picket fence? It’s the one where I hand it off to Luca, who then throws it to me. We’ll call it “The Achilles Tendon.”

I hiked it and my dear brother tried to blitz. But I knew he was winded. Because I was winded. I handed it off to Luca and he tossed it to me. Perfect catch, natch. But then I saw Eli close in on me, with an insane, “This is the time become a man” look on his face.

Eli can beat me in Fortnite. He can beat me in Star Wars Battlefront. He can beat me in Mario Kart, but I would be damned if I let him beat me in football.

So I ran, Forest. I ran. As my legs debated with my heart about what should kill me, I could hear Eli’s insane laughter behind me. My tendons made that sound rope makes in movies right before it snaps. I thought, “Snow boots were a bad choice.”

I made it across the end zone, or the imaginary line extending from the sad tree across the park. Touchdown, baby! I celebrated the only way I knew how: by limping home, ball in hand, my fans cheering with calls of “Come back!” and “We’re not done yet!”

We sure were.