How far can I kick a football?

Oct 27, 2018 | Family

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“High school kids suck at football,” Curtis said. 

Apparently, now that he’s played one season of flag football, he’s an expert.

His comment came after a kid missed a 35-yard field goal at the Dixie High game we went to last week.

“I don’t think you can talk,” I said. “It’s not like you could kick it that far.”

“So.” He said flatly. “But I could throw this football that far,” he said, pointing to the purple mini football the cheerleaders had just thrown into the stands.

“Um, I don’t think so,” I said.

“Yes, I could.”

“That ball’s too light to throw that far.”

“Well, then I’ll through a baseball,” he said.

A challenge was afoot.

Today we found out if a 10-year-old Curd could through a mini football and/or baseball 35 yards through a high school goal post. (Not surprisingly, we immediately lost the mini football after we got home from St. George, so we had to settle for the baseball.)

After a few unsuccessful attempts, Curtis realized — but wouldn’t admit — that high school kids may not suck as bad at kicking field goals as he thought. He quickly moved on to doing something else with Tate and his buddies.

But then I started thinking, “Do I suck as bad as high school kids?” There was only one way to find out.

I kicked.

I started at 20 yards.

Nailed it.

A wave of adolescent adrenaline washed over me. Maybe I could have been a great high school placekicker, I thought.

I moved back five yards.

Swoosh. Split the uprights.

I really am great. Maybe even fantastic!

I stepped back another five years. Deep breath. Step, step, kick. Boom! Thirty yards. I’m amazing! Another five yards and I’ll be better than that high school kid in St. George. Heck, another 15 and I’ll be college football material. Another 30 and I’ll knock Matt Prater off his record setting 64-yard field goal pedestal!

I stepped back, closed my eyes and focused on the NFL career ahead of me.

Step, step, kick.

Crickets.

Airball.

The miss had to be a fluke. One more try.

Another miss.

I refused to back down. I held my head high and moved three yards forward. Thirty-two yards. A respectable high school-range field goal.

Step, step, kick.

A football soaring through the air.

Landing.

Ten feet wide and about 15 yards short.

Dreams dashed to pieces.

Time to face the facts.

I suck worse than a high school kid.

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