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To set the stage:
It's 1996 and I had just recently turned 10 years old. I was not athletic at all, but I loved sports, so I was playing flag football. I was a member of the Aggies (our maroon shirts representing Texas A&M) and our alcoholic coach had led us to a winless season going into the last game.
Now, we of course were getting our asses walloped and only seconds remained on the clock. I was on the defensive line as usual as we lined up for the final play of the season (at least for our piece of shit team). As soon as the quarterback got the ball, I was in some sort of zone. I could see a halfback pass coming so I backed off even before the running back had the ball. Eventually, he got the ball and as he looked for an open receiver I could see his eyes focus on a spot mere feet from me and as he threw a bullet to the receiver behind me, I slipped in and intercepted the ball while beginning my mad dash for the end zone.
As I got closer, I began to think about how great what I was doing actually was. As I was thinking this, I noticed players much faster than me gaining on me at an alarming rate. I put it in full gear and ran full speed to... the one yard line, where my flag was ripped off, ending our season on a rather fitting note.
I was still the hero for about 5 minutes though, as everyone's parents congratulated me on my play. Due to my aforementioned lack of athletic skills though, that was pretty much the height of my football career...
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