I post a song every Monday and I already posted all of my original songs except two. This song I wrote is about a girl I knew in South Carolina. It is called The Heat of the Fire.
A great memory I have was of our high school Powder Puff flag football game between the Juniors and the Seniors. The Seniors had won 25 years in a row. It just seemed to be inevitable; the book was no one ever thought we could actually WIN the game.
I didn’t read that book.
The girls were able to choose their coaches from the football team roster. I was not surprised I was selected even though I had blown out my shoulder and was not a starter, after all I was cute as hell (and I could talk shit).
So we had the fastest girl in school and of course, our offense revolved around her. The seniors were bigger and stronger, but my girls were fast. In touch football, that is money. So the score is tied 30-30 and the clock is winding down. Ball is on the fifty-yard line. It had started raining in the second quarter, and the field was a swampy mud bog.
I called timeout.
I gathered the team on the sideline and the poor things looked miserable and exhausted. I fell in love with each and every one of them. So I give ‘em the same speech that Scott Bakula gives the Armadillos as they prepare for the final winning play of the game.
“You’re hurt. You’re tired. You’re bleeding. I’m gonna make you a promise. We get into that endzone, you’re not gonna feel any pain.” (Paramount Pictures’ Necessary Roughness—badass movie).
We had a group hug and off they went, ready to topple the 25-year dynasty of the Seniors.
I pulled aside Terry, my speed demon, and told her that she was to be a decoy on the final play. Her speed advantage would be negated by the field’s condition. So I run a blind draw play with one of my heavier players who went straight up the middle as the bodies for both teams slipped, slid, and fell. We had a straight path to the end zone and glory.
The surefooted heroine was 1-yard (I shit you not—1 yard) from ending the game with the final tally when the ball slipped out of her hands, the ball sitting on the 1-yard line. There were no whistles blown, so with the game in the balance, one of the Senior girls scooped the ball up and took the ball 99 yards for the victory.
I was devastated for my team who gave everything they had and I truly believe I instilled in them the belief that they could really do it.
Of course, I am also on record as being a terrible loser, and once I again I blew a major opportunity to display class and dignity. I very limply shook the hand of the Seniors’ coaches, although they were my best friends. I decided, in all my maturity, to pout, whine, and hide from everyone.
Later that night, I cooled down, came to my senses and went uninvited, to their big team victory party.
I apologized to my best friend Ren and all the players, coaches and partygoers.
Great memories.
Stay well.
Mark's Playhouse 