Hey Y'all,
A challenge: story about your worst organized sports mishap, as companion piece to Journey's thread on bike-bungles.
My entry... and I guess this means I won't be running for President... no wait, I didn't inhale, I'm cool... here goes
One time, when I was the center for the mighty Stags of Claremont McKenna and Harvey Mudd colleges, I celebrated the end of training camp by chowing some magical brownies provided by my less-competitive friends. It was a great Wednesday night, we listened to music, did some other shit I don't remember, visited In-N-Out burgers, laughed at a dog, and I slept from whenever a.m. until Helmet-no-pads run thru at 4 the next day. No problems. Good stuff.
Saturday rolls around and it's 110 degrees in the shade at our stadium. 1 pm kickoff, and I'm sweating like crazy. Things are ok until about 1/2 way into the first quarter when the action around me starts slowing down and I start getting these real mellow shiney visuals that look like triangles dancing about 8 inches in front of the ol' facemask. Now, you might argue that pot does not provide the LSD-like "flashback" experience, but, having been impaired more than a few times, I don't think there was any question this was chemical in nature and not due to a physical trauma, such as a concussion. Those are not nearly as fun as this was.
Anyhow, what to do? You can't really run to the sideline and say, "Coach, I need a break, I'm high." Our coach had already been coaching 15 years when the 60's happened, there wouldn't be any level of understanding there. So, I kept playing. Remarkably, you *can* play O-line at the D-III level while being in a state. Unfortunately, I was the center, and I had to remember the bleeding snap count between the huddle and the line. If I were playing guard, or tackle, I would have resulted in a few 5 yarders, bad, but not disastrous.
However, if you snap the ball on the wrong count, it is not pretty. There are 2 things that can happen.
Too late: everybody jumps, and you sit there like a retard while the ref throws the flag and you get your ass canned by a DT.
Too early: the qb is not ready, and the ball does not enter is hands cleanly. 2 possibilities here: the ball squirts out behind C's ass and spins around on the ground until some DT jumps on it. Worst case, QB is at C's rump but his hands are not unfolded, so you jam or break one or more of his fingers, before ball hits ground. This happened at least twice (fingers jammed, not broken). The QB was not happy with me that day.
To sum up, I jacked about 5 possessions personally with poorly timed snaps. I actually handled my guys just fine, they had no feet and I could dominate him just by being in the correct position quickly. Unfortunately this was contingent on me remembering/guessing the snap count correctly. We lost, as we always did, and you couldn't really argue that it was "my fault" because there was a tremendous amount of incompetence and poor athleticism on my team, but I sure as hell didn't help.
Aesop says:
Don't chow multiple pot brownies 3 days before the big game.
Yours,
RTA