When Pam Pringle, reporter for the DSFL, reached out to me to ask if any moments stood out in particular from week two and three of the DSFL season, I immediately remembered two moments where I felt a veritable well-spring of emotion bubble up from deep within me. The first moment was bittersweet--like a Gin and Tonic with a heavy splash-too-much of Tonic; the second moment, well, that was sweeter than a Kahlua Mudslide with extra, extra whipped cream on top. If you'd do me a tremendous indulgence, I'd love to share those moments with you, too.
Week Two: Minnesota Grey Ducks @ Norfolk Seawolves
It's second and goal in the second quarter, and things are not looking good. We knew that Ramza was going to be a headache for us all night, and indeed he wasn't disappointing us this drive as he marched his Seawolves squad down the length of the field and deep into the red zone.
"It's right now or never! It's right now or never!"
I hear myself shouting to my fellow Ducks on defense. We've been backed up so far, with the line of scrimmage on the one yard line, that I'm standing squarely in the middle of our endzone. There is a moment before the snap, and I notice that Ramza lifts his right knee--the side that running back N'Chick is on, and that sends the running back in motion.
"Pass to the RB over the middle." I've seen this play before in the film room. I stand frozen in my position, waiting for the ball to be snapped. The center snaps the ball just as N'Chick crosses the other side of the Quarterback. He makes like he's going out to the flat, before turning inside and coming over the middle right in front of me.
Quickly, I shoot in front of the running back just as Ramza releases the ball. I snatch it out of the air and immediately begin racing down the field, only to be caught from behind after a paltry nine yard return--not quite the same result as the last time I picked off Ramza during the preseason; that interception led to a pick-six!
I jump to my feet and begin celebrating with Brick, Blackfyre, Sermo, and Ranger.
Sigh . . . and yet sadly, this moment would remain as one of the lone bright spots to an otherwise abysmal team performance. Goose egged after four quarters--er. . . or Duck egged, I suppose would be more appropriate. If we'd won, I think there would be a case to be made that I'd be the Defensive Player of the Game, and yet, what good are personal accolades in the face of such an utter team defeat? Still, we Ducks remain confident that we've yet to play our best football, and so it's back to the drawing board.
final NORFOLK SEAWOLVES 20 - MINNESOTA GREY DUCKS 0
Allow me to be painfully clear: There is no shame in losing to a quality team like Norfolk. However, I think I speak for everyone in the Ducks' locker room when I say that we know we need to play much better than that if we plan on going far in the post-season, never mind making it to the post-season in the first place. We can and will do better.
WEEK THREE: MINNESOTA GREY DUCKS @ PORTLAND PYTHONS
I can barely contain my excitement when I see there is only nineteen seconds left in the game. Barring some sort of profound disaster, some kind of cataclysmic failure of our defense, we were going to win our first game of the season! Looking up into the seats, I could see some of the Portland crowd had gotten up from their seats to begin the process of heading back to the car early in order to beat the post-game traffic--truly a sight for sore eyes after dropping the first two games of the season.
Dammit, Gleel, now is not the time for complacency! A headless snake can still bite. . .
I get into position in the middle of the field where I can see the quarterback, Howitzer, scanning the defense searching for a weakness to exploit. This Portland team had been keeping pace with us all game, staying right on our heels for all four quarters. If we let up even just a little bit, there is a chance he could strike deep and embarrass us on the road just like we were embarrassed last week. That simply cannot be allowed to happen again.
Before the ball is snapped, I turn my gaze to the tight end Dave Batista, a friend of mine and former Tiburon Landshark. It's hard to draw up a more intimidating player than Batista, but I grit my teeth and ready myself to thump him as hard as I can if the ball goes his direction.
Which, of course, it does.
The center snaps the ball and in an instant Howitzer shows off his quick release, hitting Batista right between the numbers only five yards from the line of scrimmage.
Interesting, I'd have thought he'd throw it deep . . .
I sped towards my friend-turned-foe and lowered my center of gravity by bending my knees; if I was going to be sure to take down Dave Batista, I knew I'd have to hit him with everything I got squarely in the chest.
CRACK!
The sound of our collision fills the evening air. I grimace as my momentum is halted immediately sending shockwaves of kinetic energy rippling through both our bodies. For a moment, time stands still. Then slowly, like a tape being played at 1/4 speed, I feel Batista's torso being pushed back beyond the support and balance of his legs. Then in an instant, time corrects itself and I'm driving him into the grass with a audible thud.
The whistle blows as time expires, and the whole flock clears the benches and celebrates at midfield. After all the struggles we've been through together, after hearing all the noise from the media, the disrespect, the doubters, we've finally put ourselves in a position to right the ship, so to speak.
"1-2, baby! 1-2 just like everyone else in the NFC North! This race is wiiiiiiiiiiiiiide open!"
Later I'd smile in the locker room during the post-game speech by Alejandro Chainbreaker, who received a game ball for his nine tackles-with-a-sack defensive performance, and I think to myself . . .
How lucky am I? There's no where else I'd rather be.
Week Two: Minnesota Grey Ducks @ Norfolk Seawolves
It's second and goal in the second quarter, and things are not looking good. We knew that Ramza was going to be a headache for us all night, and indeed he wasn't disappointing us this drive as he marched his Seawolves squad down the length of the field and deep into the red zone.
"It's right now or never! It's right now or never!"
I hear myself shouting to my fellow Ducks on defense. We've been backed up so far, with the line of scrimmage on the one yard line, that I'm standing squarely in the middle of our endzone. There is a moment before the snap, and I notice that Ramza lifts his right knee--the side that running back N'Chick is on, and that sends the running back in motion.
"Pass to the RB over the middle." I've seen this play before in the film room. I stand frozen in my position, waiting for the ball to be snapped. The center snaps the ball just as N'Chick crosses the other side of the Quarterback. He makes like he's going out to the flat, before turning inside and coming over the middle right in front of me.
Quickly, I shoot in front of the running back just as Ramza releases the ball. I snatch it out of the air and immediately begin racing down the field, only to be caught from behind after a paltry nine yard return--not quite the same result as the last time I picked off Ramza during the preseason; that interception led to a pick-six!
I jump to my feet and begin celebrating with Brick, Blackfyre, Sermo, and Ranger.
Sigh . . . and yet sadly, this moment would remain as one of the lone bright spots to an otherwise abysmal team performance. Goose egged after four quarters--er. . . or Duck egged, I suppose would be more appropriate. If we'd won, I think there would be a case to be made that I'd be the Defensive Player of the Game, and yet, what good are personal accolades in the face of such an utter team defeat? Still, we Ducks remain confident that we've yet to play our best football, and so it's back to the drawing board.
final NORFOLK SEAWOLVES 20 - MINNESOTA GREY DUCKS 0
Allow me to be painfully clear: There is no shame in losing to a quality team like Norfolk. However, I think I speak for everyone in the Ducks' locker room when I say that we know we need to play much better than that if we plan on going far in the post-season, never mind making it to the post-season in the first place. We can and will do better.
WEEK THREE: MINNESOTA GREY DUCKS @ PORTLAND PYTHONS
I can barely contain my excitement when I see there is only nineteen seconds left in the game. Barring some sort of profound disaster, some kind of cataclysmic failure of our defense, we were going to win our first game of the season! Looking up into the seats, I could see some of the Portland crowd had gotten up from their seats to begin the process of heading back to the car early in order to beat the post-game traffic--truly a sight for sore eyes after dropping the first two games of the season.
Dammit, Gleel, now is not the time for complacency! A headless snake can still bite. . .
I get into position in the middle of the field where I can see the quarterback, Howitzer, scanning the defense searching for a weakness to exploit. This Portland team had been keeping pace with us all game, staying right on our heels for all four quarters. If we let up even just a little bit, there is a chance he could strike deep and embarrass us on the road just like we were embarrassed last week. That simply cannot be allowed to happen again.
Before the ball is snapped, I turn my gaze to the tight end Dave Batista, a friend of mine and former Tiburon Landshark. It's hard to draw up a more intimidating player than Batista, but I grit my teeth and ready myself to thump him as hard as I can if the ball goes his direction.
Which, of course, it does.
The center snaps the ball and in an instant Howitzer shows off his quick release, hitting Batista right between the numbers only five yards from the line of scrimmage.
Interesting, I'd have thought he'd throw it deep . . .
I sped towards my friend-turned-foe and lowered my center of gravity by bending my knees; if I was going to be sure to take down Dave Batista, I knew I'd have to hit him with everything I got squarely in the chest.
CRACK!
The sound of our collision fills the evening air. I grimace as my momentum is halted immediately sending shockwaves of kinetic energy rippling through both our bodies. For a moment, time stands still. Then slowly, like a tape being played at 1/4 speed, I feel Batista's torso being pushed back beyond the support and balance of his legs. Then in an instant, time corrects itself and I'm driving him into the grass with a audible thud.
The whistle blows as time expires, and the whole flock clears the benches and celebrates at midfield. After all the struggles we've been through together, after hearing all the noise from the media, the disrespect, the doubters, we've finally put ourselves in a position to right the ship, so to speak.
"1-2, baby! 1-2 just like everyone else in the NFC North! This race is wiiiiiiiiiiiiiide open!"
Later I'd smile in the locker room during the post-game speech by Alejandro Chainbreaker, who received a game ball for his nine tackles-with-a-sack defensive performance, and I think to myself . . .
How lucky am I? There's no where else I'd rather be.
final MINNESOTA GREY DUCKS 19 - PORTLAND PYTHONS 15
Once again, I'd like to thank you for indulging me to share these private moments with you. Stay tuned as the season progresses and I'm sure you'll see much more from Wasrabi Gleel.
After all, this is just the beginning.
(1123 words)