Monday, November 29, 2010


In grad school, we played football, under the name "Trout's Raiders," named after the famous Wash U micro theorist, J. Trout Rader, III. (Yes, there three J. Trout Raders, the sins of the grandfather being visited on a little boy)

Late in a game, we were down 5, and threatening to score. About five yards from goal line.

Fourth down.

Anyone was eligible to receive a pass. So we made up a play (Mike Smirlock was QB this day, though he was later known for other things...). The play was: I would center, then block, then run forward five yards, just over the goal line, and the pass would be there.

I did, I did, I did, and it was (there), right in the tummy. But I dropped it. Michael S's pass was perfect, and it was NOT too hard, or low, or anything. We lost. And I obviously still remember it.

Turns out I should have blamed God for "making" me drop it. That particular excuse did not occur to me, I have to admit.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

Hasn't every believer cried out to God in such a fashion? I have, many times. God still loves me and forgives me.