I may have implied in the previous Memory that defensive players like me were never allowed to hit Dean Blevins because of the Pink Quarterback dress he always wore.
I wasn’t made a starter until I was a Senior. So the first couple of times we bused to Owens Stadium for Thursday “hats, jerseys and cleats”, no-contact practices, I was REALLY excited.
Number 28 was about to be in the house, baby, sporting his flashy white Adidas cleats, featuring hand-painted orange Tiger stripes that were a blur when I flew over the turf.
On this particular day in infamy, the bus was about to pull out when I realized I had left my helmet in my locker.
I shot off the bus and through the meeting room that was attached to the locker room.
Unfortunately, right when I hit the door going thisaway, Dean hit it going thataway.
Even more unfortunate, Dean was in street clothes and on crutches, because he'd recently suffered an ankle sprain.
Most unfortunate of all, the full force of our massive collision exploded right into Dean’s wounded ankle.
He bent over and started bashing his crutches up and down on the floor while going, "Oh! Oh! Oh!" Then he collapsed backwards onto one of the desktops in the meeting room.
He stuck his heavily bandaged ankle high up in the air and started emitting a sound like a wounded animal.
Trust me, it was not the sound you would ever want to hear coming from your star quarterback.
I really felt bad, but there wasn't much I could do. So I ran into the locker room, grabbed my helmet, and raced back through the meeting room, perhaps a little slower this time.
Dean was still lying on the desk, whimpering, and his face looked a little less contorted.
I took that as a good sign, so I apologised and jumped onto the bus.
On the long drive to Owens Stadium, I started to get really worried.
What if I'd really hurt Dean? What if I had broken his ankle and he was out for the year?
The coaches would kill me. I'd be benched for the rest of my life!
But, thanks be to God, I hadn’t crippled Dean. In fact, he was back in the starting lineup pretty quickly.
And while he was on crutches, cheerleaders were carrying his books between classes, so he was doing all right.
Thankfully, I never heard a word mentioned about our unfortunate collision.
I'm not sure if that was because Dean was being a good guy, by not telling the coaches on me, or if he just didn't want anyone to know that 128-pound Billy Moore had made him cry.
(Yep, I know its officially "Owen Field". But my late Mom called it "Owen's Stadium". And she's my Mom, so...)
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