4th & Hell

You know when you’re telling a story and you can tell if you’re killing or thrilling the listener? Whenever I tell this story in person, it never fails to captivate the audience. We were David with a Canadian passport, failing miserably at winning just one football game against stars-and-stripes-draped Goliaths. It doesn’t matter who I tell – women, men, young, old, football lovers, and football haters. No one has ever been bored. They’re stimulated. They can’t get enough. They want more. Two reasons why – the gory details and the way I tell it. Their need to listen comes of morbid curiosity, the same kind that makes people watch blood-and-guts crime shows. Then there’s my body language, tone, and the passion in my voice which I’ve tried to replicate in my writing. My Canadian club football team daring to venture into the U.S. to compete on the gridiron – a challenge I call “HRT – hell replacement therapy.” Fourth and hell was a face-to-face showdown. No disguises, no masks, no secret weapons. No one huddled on the sideline. No one huddled on the field. Both sides knew what to expect. No surprises, no guess-work, no mind games. Calling the plays were formalities. All that mattered was running the play to see what would pass. Someone would execute; someone would be executed.

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