Illuminated by the Broadway streetlights and with the inlet fog horn bellowing behind us we hatched a plan. I’ll QB, drop back and count to three. We practiced the timing in the huddle 1….2…..3. At three, Tom was to turn around and see the nerfball in his face.
I dropped back counted 1….2…. and threw. At three, Tom made his cut and turned his head my way. Jerry Rice couldn’t have run a more perfect pattern. Not being too shabby myself, Joe Montana couldn’t have thrown a more perfect pass. The ball hit him in the numbers. Tom cradled it and tore to the end zone. Fucking touchdown. Just like we mapped it. Perhaps the most glorious moment ever on the sand at the Manasquan inlet.
I’ve ridden hurricane waves within inches of the rocks. I’ve gone skinny dipping with go-go dancers after shots of sambuka. I’ve swam the inlet from the Pt. Pleasant side to the Manasquan side and taken a cab back to Point. But nothing – nothing – matches the exhilarating timing of Tom Davis catching that pass, turning on the jets, and hitting the end zone unchallenged.
3 comments:
Continued...
Catching a passing and landing on my back. No greater feeling. Don't forget coming home from a weekend furlough in Delaware, hear telephone ring, reaching for it, and hearing Pkbeachbum on the other side, laughing. "Wanna play catch." Very brotherly and very lucky.
Sounding like John Cusack here: Top three football surfaces. Number one: beach. Number two: snow. Number thee: mud. Number four: street (speaking of masochism). Distant number five: grass.
Remember that. Summer of '91. One of my favorite summers. I'd go to Point Beach one weekend, and then Dewey Beach the next. Dated some screwy ballet dancer from a Delaware trailer park who drank like she f--d. With reckless abandon (found all sorts of old friends on Lexis-Nexis--never found her. No surprise).
uuuuuuhhhhhh. The sun was in my eyes. The defensive coordinator called the wrong coverage... the pash rush was too soft and didn't put enough of a scare into you. Wait til the playoffs. we'll show you who's boss.
Bill
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