Team of Destiny

It was one of those experiences where you sit back in your chair and ask yourself a simple question. “Did that just happen?” this is what I was asking myself after the game had ended, and the Detroit Lions had won over the Atlanta Falcons, 22-21. It was one of those moments that you think about long after it happened and you still get goose bumps. The game was a so called tale of two halves from a Lions standpoint. There were a lot of things that played a role into how the game unfolded, so I should probably start from the beginning.

            First off, let me state that in order to watch the start of the Lion’s game, I had to set my alarm clock for 9:00 AM on a Sunday! That’s right, the event was starting in the morning, but not in the United States. Instead, the game was being played across the pond in beautiful London, England. Even though they had been practicing over there for a few days, I had a feeling that both teams might not have their ‘A’ game because of the early start. This turned out to be true for Detroit, but not so much for Atlanta. They dominated the Lions in the first half, moving the ball across the field with ease, and scoring three touchdowns in the process. It was an embarrassment in the first half, as the Falcons led at halftime 21-0.

            When the second half began, it was clear that Lions coach Jim Caldwell got after his team, and tried to light a fire in them. It started with the defense, as they began to display their toughness and intensity for the rest of the game. They began to stop the run, pressure the quarterback, and get a huge interception that led to a Lions score. The offense also stepped up, making big play after big play to stage a comeback. One play that definitely had a major impact on the outcome occurred with five minutes to go in the third quarter. Facing a 3rd. and 25, quarterback Matthew Stafford scrambled out of the pocket and threw a rocket pass out to receiver Golden Tate, who caught the ball and ran into the end zone for a Lions touchdown. This was no question the turning point in the game, but the ending was something I won’t soon forget.

            With less than two minutes left and Detroit down 21-19, the Lions knew that it was now or never. Facing all sorts of pressure, Matthew Stafford and the rest of the Lion’s offense stayed calm, and quickly drove down the field on a shocked Falcon’s defense. With four seconds to go in the game, kicker Matt Prater lined up for a 43 yard field goal for the win. The snap was good, the hold was good, the kick, everything but good as it missed off to the right. The game was over, or was it? Before the play began, an official threw a flag on the Lions for a delay of game. Could it be that a penalty had just saved Detroit? With almost no time left on the clock, Prater lined up to attempt a 48 yard field goal to test this theory. As before, the snap and hold were good. When the ball left his foot, it was as if everything was in slow motion. It seemed like an eternity, but after the heart stopping moments, the ball found its way through the goal post. The kick was good!! The Detroit Lions had just won a game that at one point seemed impossible to win. With this in mind, I’ve come to a conclusion that this is a team of destiny, there’s no question about it.

Driveway Sports

Most of the memories that I have regarding sports usually is from teams in little league, youth soccer, or travel basketball. There are some moments that occurred in all of these sports that I will remember for the rest of my life, but the memories that are stuck on my brain come from sports that were played on the driveway of my house. Even though these experiences happened during my youth, I remember them like it was yesterday.

It all started one day when I was only five years old. I was outside with my dad when he got out a basketball and began shooting it at the basketball rim that was cemented on the edge of the pavement. After watching him shoot for a good five minutes, I decided to join in. I remember my dad lowering the rim to about six feet, which allowed me to shoot the ball without it coming three feet short of the basket. After I got used to shooting, my dad did something that I won’t ever forget. I can remember him lifting me up on his shoulders, then moving me right next to the rim so I could dunk the ball. When I dunked, I felt like I just did something amazing, even though it was more like me throwing the ball through the net. Nevertheless, that was an awesome feeling back then, but things got even better when my younger brothers began to play.

When I was ten, my brother Caleb, who was seven at the time, started to play with my dad along with myself. We would play games like ‘horse’ and ‘around the world’, which I think played a key role into me becoming an above average shooter. This was fun, but we started to actually play a real game when my youngest brother Noah, who was five, got a little older. Once he was seven, things got serious.

When we started playing 2 on 2, things weren’t all that bad. My brothers and I were about the same as far as talent. My dad, who obviously was better, would take it easy on us and barely try, which made it more even. This was a great time, don’t get me wrong, but the experience did bring out my aggressive side. You could say when my team lost, I would become a so called, ‘Detroit Bad Boy’. I would push and shove my other brothers, and occasionally pick up the ball and whip it at them from five feet away. Now that I’m older, I’ve been able to control my temper, and have become a better sport along the way.

Back then the games were unorganized and out of control, but now, it’s a completely different story. Now that I’m 18, with my brothers 15 and 13, our dad doesn’t play nice guy anymore. We have games now that are fun to play, and watch as well. We’ve all improved as players, which makes it even more enjoying. The best driveway game I’ve ever been a part of, however, occurred during my open house after graduation. With all of my family and friends in attendance, we had a 5 on 5 game, which was an incredible experience, considering the fact everyone was having fun, and a good time as well.

Like I said before, I’ve been a part of many teams in my life, but nothing compares to the excitement and enjoyment of playing driveway basketball with my family and friends.  

My Life and Baseball

For many kids the dream of becoming a professional athlete usually begins at an early age, when an extraordinary event occurs that changes the person’s life forever. This was the case for me, as my life would change forever when my dad gave me my first baseball glove when I was only five years old. You could say at that moment my dream of becoming a professional baseball player had begun. Like every kid who dreams of turning into the next Derek Jeter or Miguel Cabrera, they all must start from a humble beginning in youth baseball organizations all across the country. The place I’m talking about is called little league, and it’s where all journeys begin, and legends are born.

My first taste of organized baseball started for me at the age of six, when I signed up for my town’s local baseball organization, called Vassar Little League. The name of my team was the Rockies, and my dad was the assistant coach. I couldn’t wait for the season to start up, but I didn’t realize at the moment of my team’s first practice that playing baseball at the fairgrounds would become a routine for the next 10 years.

I can vividly remember the sight of opening day at Vassar Little League. The chained fences were decorated with red, white and blue banners. The air was filled with the smell of hot dogs and burgers being cooked on grills. The grass was fresh cut with the dirt seeming to blend in with the outfield. It was amazing to see because up until that moment, I had never experienced an opening day celebration that I would actually be a part of.  At the opening ceremony, each team got a chance to be introduced to all the parents, as well as the other teams in different age levels. After the introductions, the founder of Vassar Little League, which opened 40 years before that day, threw out the ceremonial first pitch of the season. It was finally time to play baseball!

 My first game was something I will never forget. It all started with my first at bat. I remember having two strikes on me, and the pitcher throwing what seemed like blazing speed. Now, I understand that he probably wasn’t even throwing 40 mph, but at the time it seemed like 100. Nevertheless, I recall focusing in on the next pitch, swinging as hard as I could, hitting the ball over the first baseman’s outstretched glove and into the outfield. I was ecstatic at the fact that I got my first hit, and it gave me a boatload of confidence for the rest of the season.

After my first year, I decided to keep playing baseball as long as I could. I played in Vassar Little League through grade school all the way up until eighth grade, when I had to stop playing because of my age. I tried out for my high school baseball team every year, but never made the roster. Most people today ask me why I didn’t make the cut, and the response I give back to them is that the coach told me they couldn’t take everyone that tried out. Every time I was told this, the coach would tell me that it wasn’t because I was bad, just the fact that the kids I grew up with were just a little better than I was. People I’m closest with today ask me why I didn’t just quit if that was the case. I usually smile and explain to them that it wasn’t the end of the world if I didn’t make the team. I tried out because I love to play baseball, and nothing will ever change that.

Soccer: Where it all Started

             The game itself is considered by some to be boring. The time it takes for something amazing to occur seems to take games off now and then. The sport I’m referring to is, according to many people, especially Europeans, is football. However, Americans prefer to call it a different name, soccer.

             Out of all the sports that exist today, soccer is by far the most popular. Statistics have proven that nearly every human on earth has played the so called, “beautiful game”, at least once in their lives. As you can probably predict, I have experienced this sport myself, but from many different angles. I’ve been associated with soccer by terms of a player, an assistant coach, as well as a spectator. With all this in mind, it’s safe to say that I have some memories that reflect my

I will start my discussion with how I became involved with soccer. When I was five years old, my parents felt that it would be good for me to become involved with a sport that could help me get active, as well as meet new kids along with it. They did this by signing me up for the AYSO (American Youth Soccer Organization) in Frankenmuth. My dad thought that this experience would be good for me because Frankenmuth was only ten minutes away from where we lived, so travel to and from the games wouldn’t really be an issue. Another reason why they did this was so I could use my energy, which every five year old boy has, for something productive.

When I showed up at my first practice, I didn’t have a clue as to who anyone was, the rules of the game, or what positions on the field were. With all these problems circulating in my brain, I decided to walk up and meet some of my teammates. Lucky for me, they all accepted me with open arms, and we got along well. I was also relieved when I found out that my coach was a pretty cool guy. He would joke around with us, teach us the rules and where to be on the field, as well as play with us on scrimmages. I believe that first year helped me become involved with the sport, as I would continue playing until the sixth grade. I had to stop playing because the league only allowed kids to play until you reached an age of 13, or if you were in sixth grade. I couldn’t play for my school because we didn’t have a soccer program. This meant that my soccer career was over.

With this in mind, I decided to help my dad coach my younger brother’s team. I would be responsible for participating in practice drills, as well as scrimmages. When my dad stopped coaching, I figured that I should just become a spectator. When my brother had tournaments that he played in, I would sit with my parents and grandparents and root him on and give him support.

After he stopped playing, it was also the end for me being involved with soccer. Even though I’m not part of it anymore, I still believe soccer played an important role in my life. It not only gave me something to look forward to every Saturday morning, but also gave me a love for sports, which I still have to this day.