I have a great pair of hands. I’ve got this and I’ll work harder than anyone else on the team.

I have great speed and agility. In past years Coach, we haven’t had that one player that can put points on the board. If we aren’t scoring we aren’t winning. I understand that I haven’t played Wide Receiver in past years. But I’ve finally grown into the position.

Just give me a shot Coach. I am your man!! I won’t let you down.

I could feel that I was reaching Coach, like I’d never done before. Maybe he is desperate, like the whole team is. The whole town is.

I believe he’s been waiting for someone with my talent to step up to the plate. Perhaps I have my metaphors mixed up. I’ll need to save that for baseball season.

Suddenly I’m awakened. It’s my hourly alarm clock telling me I need to make a mad dash for the bathroom. Then I realize I’m an almost 73 year old man, that never played a down of high school football. In fact, that 8th grade season of playing football was about all the experience I ever had. Even then, being a very short and scrawny kid I wasn’t even a very good bench warmer. I couldn’t sit still long enough to warm anything.

I’ve got to get off of these pain killers and calm my mind down a bit. I think stretching out for that long fingertip catch may have torn a stitch in one of my surgical wounds. But I don’t see any blood, so I guess everything is alright.

This was written a 3:30 AM, 3 days post-opp from having a spinal cord stimulator installed.