A Football Miracle

A Football Miracle

by Brooke-Lynn Monger

Brooklyn, New York, is where I lived during the year of 1995 when the racial dispute was going on over the African American fight with some Jewish man. Sorry, I don’t pay attention to history class, but let me tell you a few things about me.

My name is Earthen Junior and I’m a sophomore at Townsend Harris High School. Everybody knows me as the 5’10” B+ student and amazing football player—not to brag, but I could steal anybody’s girl with my rock hard abs and my 7 touchdowns at every game. My team isn’t as good of a team if I’m not there.

But that’s what changed everything, I got knocked up pretty bad after school one day when a group of Jewish kids came and jumped me, one pulling a trigger. I didn’t know them but I guess the dispute was getting to them, and anyway African American and Jewish kids were just always going after each other over it, but I had never been involved. I thought my life would’ve been over but as my grandmother said, “God will always be looking over me.” As I sat in the hospital, hand over my paralyzed legs, I wondered if I would ever be the same. I heard a little knock on the door.

“Come in.” I whispered. I slowly turned my head as I watched this fine thick dark melanin queen walk around my bed and plant a kiss on my forehead.

“How are you feeling, baby?” she asked with a look of worrisome concern, shown with the way she curved her eyebrows. I sat up a little and smiled, I felt that large sting hit the side of my body, but all that pain was worth being close to my girl.

“Hanging in there baby, ah you know I’m staying strong for you.” I didn’t wanna look into her eyes, she would’ve known if I was lying.

“Mhm,” she mumbles and walks to the chair and plops down.

I smirk and twist my head back to the TV. My favorite football team, the Seahawks, was playing against the Jets. Their score was up to 14, I tried to ease the pain off with some ice from the bucket I got earlier from the nurse as I strained my neck and eyes to see DK Metcalf make that winning touchdown. I shouted, “Let’s go!!” and

waved my arms up and down as if I was in the stands watching them.

Lynn rolled her eyes and said, “Now it’s just a game, lay down and keep quiet before your voice busts and you can’t yell ‘Let’s go’ ever again.”

I straight up ignored her; she didn’t know how bad my passion for football was. Nobody did. Someday I wanted to meet DK Metcalf, even be like him. But me laying in this hospital bed cooped up like I had a disease, I knew my chances to play were 0 in a million.