Jason Rodriguez - The Moose in the Closet: ER4, Slacking, Awesome and Mass Destruction: The End of Achilles

Elk’s Run #4 is currently soliciting in Previews. Apparently I totally brain-farted and forgot to mention it. Order# is SEP053086. Check out that cover:

No Here’s the Thing… today. I didn’t get to edit it and, you know, football started tonight so…beers. I might throw it up tomorrow morning. The Here’s the Thing…, not the wings I ate. I didn’t get to edit the following story either but, you know, I can’t skip that.

Oh, yeah. I almost forgot. This is awesome.
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Football season started up yesterday. I actually started this blog at the end of last football season, over the past seven months you’ve heard me declare my love for the Mets but you’ve yet to really see my heart bleed green. Football season’s always a tense time in my house. Robin’s a Pats fan and I’m a Jets fan. Same division – ugly. But we get along fine mainly because the Jets never really have a shot at the Super Bowl.

I actually played football in high school. I made the team as a Tight End but after a couple of practice sessions moved to Offensive Tackle/Defensive End. Started on offense and defense my sophomore year playing JV ball, started on offense, defense and special teams junior year on varsity and then just offense and special teams senior year – moved to Guard since I got my 40 under 5 seconds and my quarter mile under a minute (although I threw up after running it).

Junior year was a nightmare – my team sucked. We couldn’t get a win to save our lives. We won the last game of the season and that was all. But we played hard – we certainly improved – and senior year we were above five-hundred and one game out of the playoffs.

Senior year was a good time for football. Plenty of field parties and drinking . But in order to get there, we had to make it through the heartbreaking season that was junior year; a season that ended with me on a warpath like nothing I’ve ever experienced.

Towards the end of the season we had to play Sheapshead Bay. The week before they had an article in the paper about their Defensive End that was supposed to be NFL bound after college – the kid was massive, strong, fast and had a good head on his shoulders. And I had to block him.

I played dirty, I think that’s acceptable in a game like this when your opponent out performs you in every category. I held him a lot, got a couple of facemasks in. A bunch of chop blocks and the occasional jab to the stomach if I got in low and close enough. I held him pretty good, our team basically ran the ball to the other side of the field and the Uber-Player only got two or three sacks going into the fourth quarter.

M, my old girlfriend, and my Grandparents were at this game – the only game either of them ever came to – and I was determined to play my heart out. Since neither of them know what dirty football looks like, it’s safe to say they were impressed with how I handled myself.

Then, in the third quarter, I got trampled. Came in too high and got absolutely run over. Horrible pain in my ankle. I limped back to the huddle and the coach sent a replacement in to take my place. I sent him back.

I kept playing. I was getting mowed over because my ankle couldn’t support me and every time I got dropped I was getting angrier and angrier. Five, ten minutes pass and I’m still playing offense and defense. My coach keeps sending in replacements and I keep sending them back, refusing to give up and let the super-star from Sheapshead get the better of me.

With about five minute left in the game the pain was unbearable and I signaled my coach and he sent in a replacement. I felt defeated as I walked back to the bench.

And then I went nuts.

No reason except for the fact that I felt like I lost, I completely freaked out and started pushing people, kicking shit, throwing water jugs, flipping benches, cursing at the stands, crying (yes, actually crying) – I just completely fucking lost it.

I was emotionally fine up until that point. Pain, that’s it. But holy shit I just flipped the fuck out. After the game M tried to comfort me, my grandparents tried to congratulate me but I just walked along, kicking cars and punching poles. They must have thought I was completely ‘roided out and I just snapped.

I just couldn’t take it. I psyched myself up to beat this guy. It’s been a shitty season, we were going to lose to Sheapshead but I’m going to beat this guy. And in the end I fell first and I just went crazy.

Turns out I tore my Achilles tendon (although not detached, thankfully, just some ripping). It would have been a very minor tear but apparently playing football for over 15 minutes on it (plus kicking random shit) fucked it up a lot more than it needed to be.

I missed the rest of the season – including our lone victory at the end. I think next week will be all about football, in honor of my Jets who will win the first four or five in a row like they always do, getting my hopes up, before breaking my heart.

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ER4, Slacking, Awesome and Mass Destruction: The End of Achilles

Friday, September 09, 2005

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