Watching from the Sideline

     The nagging presence of an imminent injury has plagued my life for the past 3 years. Reading this you may think, "hey, an injury isn't a failure, it's an accident!"Well considering my injuries have come at the worst times possible, I believe that they fit in the category of a failure. It's funny how when your younger the worst part about an injury seems to be the pain, because by the age of 13-14 pain comes second to the mental issue at hand. For me, it was letting my teammates down. Sure my accidents physically stung for a few minutes, but the real pain was emotional. I think this concept correlates with the responsibility you slowly attain as you grow up. It also proves that mental grief is 100 times worse than any physical pain you could imagine. 

     This brings me to the failure, the injury that keeps nagging me to this day. As a sophomore quarterback for an overachieving team, it was tough to gain respect from the upperclassmen. However, over the course of the season, I felt as if though there was some sort of connection to my teammates. With that in mind, breaking my left hand in the last game for many seniors exceptional hurt. I immediately knew that I failed my teammates, my coaches and the fans. Sitting on the sideline with an icepack in hand, I felt awful. 

     The most recent "failure" come from a few months ago during this past football season. Our team had come off to a great start, 3 wins in a row. Then came judgement day, a game against our arch rival, the hated Marlboro Dukes. On a chilly Friday night, all was on the line (they even flew in a parachuter with the game ball!) Anyways, the bitterness between us and Marlboro alone set the stage for a very physical game. 

     The game couldn't have started off better. We scored on our first drive, marching down the field at will. And of course, just when things were looking up, Marlboro retaliated with a score of their own. Unfortunately, that scoring play was also the play were I was hit in the shoulder and it popped out of place. That one especially hurt. I couldn't lift a football or even make a throwing motion, I was done for the game. The rest of the game was a deja vu: me sitting on the sideline with nothing but an icepack in hand, waiting for the final horn to sound. Once again, the injury bug latched on at the worst time possible. This past year was the first year New Paltz hadn't secured a playoff berth in 6 years. Although my shoulder hurt, it was the days at the practices watching from the sideline that proved I had truly failed.                           Football