[Bob M.]

REPLY: In my 27 years of doing this stuff, I’ve been called on to work in the middle about 10-12 times in varsity games. None of them was as ‘memorable’ as an occasion about five years ago. Our regular R wasn’t with us. Our regular U was substituting for him at R. Our B is our back-up U in such cases, but he had a college game (as a U, coincidentally). That left me as the most experienced U in the bunch. But I had done it before so I didn’t give it too much thought. One of the teams had an all-state running back that was known for his quickness and his ability to pick his hole on the fly. In the third quarter, his team runs a play to their left (my right) complete with pulling linemen from the right side of the offensive line. I take a step to my left after I see the point of attack. I’m watching the lead blocking for holds, etc. All of a sudden, out of the corner of my eye, I see a blocker coming back toward me, trapping the DE. In the second or two it took me to recognize a counter-trap, I was stuck in the intended hole with the runner coming straight for me and no way to escape. I do remember yelling "Oh ***" at the top of my lungs. Both the runner and I looked at each other as if to say, “What the **** are you doing here?!” But before I could roll up into a little ball and call for my mommy, he had grabbed me by the front placket of my shirt (to keep from running me over I presume) and continued to run. Now I’m back-pedaling like crazy just to keep ahead of him. About this time the defense (remember them?) realize where the ball is. With absolutely no regard for yours truly, about six of them hit him (and me) simultaneously. When the carnage ended, I was at the bottom of the pile with about a half dozen players doing the Macarena on my chest. One bloody nose, two cracked ribs, a pair of lungs that were trying hard to remember their role in life and a broken pair of glasses later, I stumbled to my feet. I seemed to recall that a football game was going on, but couldn’t for the life of me remember what I had to do with it. Our BJ asked if I was OK, and I think I mumbled something back to him. Years later, he tells me that he was probably hurting more than I, since he was doubled up on the inside trying not to laugh out loud. The rest of my crew wasn’t so encumbered. They were laughing like a bunch of guys watching the Three Stooges. And of course the following season, I subbed twice as a U in college games. Now those guys are big...but I survived!