I do love me some Christmas. I love the smell of real Christmas trees and the sparkling lights and such that mesmerize me like a moth to a flame. Opening gifts and giving gifts is a lot of fun too, but I try to not get lost in that, which is easy to do. We get stressed over how much we spend or don’t spent and the whole gift giving started when three wise men so that big ole star and started stepping towards the one true king, Baby Jesus, with their offerings of gold, frankincense and myrrh. I’m not exactly sure how the weather was when these brave gentlemen started their journey, but hopefully it wasn’t too harsh.
Christmas weather in the South is just a grab bag. You never really know what you’re going to get. I’ve celebrated Christmas day with it 80 degrees outside and I’ve celebrated this awesome day with the temperature hovering around 0…it was 3 degrees actually, which got me to thinking about that really cold, three-degree Christmas morning which was the morning I got that actual NFL-sized football and a kicking tee.
I was 11 or 12 years old and thought I could kick that thing pretty good. I usually did all the kicking off for our sandlot games from a divot that I usually kicked out in the ground with the heel of my foot. I wanted to put an end to this and asked my father, or Santa Claus for the young believers, to get me a real football and a real kicking tee.
Before the sun came up on this frigid day I, along with my brothers, was up and ready to get after whatever ole “Santa” had left for me under that tree, and lo and behold, there it sat. A real NFL-sized football with a kicking tee amongst other things, but that football and tee had me raring to go. Three degrees didn’t matter to me at all…but it should have. As soon as the sun light hit the front yard, I was out the door with my new football and tee in hand.
I should have known this wasn’t a good idea as soon as I stepped out of the front door and into the front yard; there was no sign of life anywhere. Not a bird, dog or cat stirred. I heard no cars on the road or people for that matter. My brothers, though a tad younger than me, displayed a tad more wisdom than me at that moment by staying inside the confines of our warm house. I just couldn’t wait to see how far I could kick that thing on a real tee.
My face hurt and my eyes watered, but I was determined to break former Saint kicker Tom Dempsey’s record field goal of 63 yards on my very first kick. Oh, how I wished Lucy would have been there to pull that football away and I would have just fell harmlessly to the cold ground with only my pride hurt. I then could have gone back into the house and waited until the weather was more suitable for penguins than try to kick that football.
Lucy wasn’t there, boy I sure wish she would have been. The wind was blowing and my eyes were just raining tears and a literally couldn’t smile or make any facial expression for that matter. I was just worried about kicking that football into my neighbor’s yard, about 40 yards away, but it seemed like 63. I lined it up, took a few practice runs and made my final approach. Bear in mind, the soccer-style approach was still years away and this kick was all about the big toe. Center that football with the big toe and hit it low. That was the plan, and as far as I know, that is what I did, but a football is basically a concrete cinder block when the temperature outside is below 30 degrees…IT WAS 3 DEGREES, if I haven’t told you that already.
Well, I made the approach and my kicking foot swept forward, connecting with the football and that is all I remember from a technical standpoint. I don’t know why my toe didn’t break, but it sure felt like it did and it still hurts to this day. I have no idea where the football went and I’m not really sure I ever retrieved it. That was the day I retired from being a kicker and decided I was more adept at playing offensive line or tight end. You know, some frankincense and myrrh would have been nice that day, in fact, I probably would have traded that football for a big ole sack of coal. Who knows how good of a kicker I would have been if the weather would have only cooperated.
