The Diner's Rookie Diary
by Sam Monson
5/4/2008
 
Since the last instalment your humble Diner reporter has joined the ranks of the amateur athlete, complete with Lycra 'compression shorts', we're talking serious posing here. Training for the DCU Saints occurs every Sunday, beginning at 11am, and lasting until 2pm, a veritable marathon of exercise for a man whose athletic prowess previously only stretched to outrunning angry recipients of wedgies. Nevertheless, it seems that experience had left me with some inherent speed, and I had been designated as a wide receiver during practices.
 
After a couple of weeks we came to a critical junction, a truly defining moment in all athlete's careers – it was time to pick my jersey number! Football players are very superstitions about their numbers, and they will go to great lengths to protect them. Jeff Feagles managed to get a family trip to Disney World as well as a new Patio out of his jersey number, that's how much it meant to Plaxico Burress and Eli Manning, both of whom struck deals with Feagles to ensure they could wear the number of their choice.
 
Other players wear their numbers as an homage to past greatness. 'Lights Out' Shawne Merriman wears #56, a tip of the cap to the man who defined his position, the original LT, Lawrence Taylor. So what number did I decide to go for? #84 after Randy Moss? #80 after Jerry Rice. Hell no! #82, worn by the great Troy Williamson. Hmm.
 
It must first be noted that I appear to share certain characteristics in skill set with Troy: lightning speed and hands of bricks, something I will probably need to rectify if I'm to really become the quality receiver the rest of the Diner crew say I must before they'll allow me to quit To this end, I invested in a pair of official NFL Player Equipment™ Receiver Gloves, of the bright orange variety, naturally (figuring it'd make me visible to the QB streaking down the sideline – failing to realise it also made my hands of stone stand out like a polar bear at a golf club).
 
Now that the important stuff was out of the way – and I looked like a pro – it was time to set about the process of actually practicing the game. Sundays were spent running routes, learning how to beat press coverage, and a quick lesson on how to block as a WR. Needless to say that was less successful than the rest of the drills. When the QB's arm was getting a little sore it was time for a water break – by which time of course there wasn't a receiver still standing, having been run to death on the deep fly patterns (grumble grumble, curse those quarterbacks with their 'pocket'!)
 
After a few weeks of much running – though actually being able to catch (yea ok, primarily drop) balls at the end of the running somehow makes your tolerance for the running much better – we were each handed a bound collection of sheets, this was it! The playbook!
 
Let me tell you, it was both a receiver's nightmare, and his dream, all rolled into one. The playbook consisted of 39 passing plays, and 8 run plays. We were going to put the ball in the air. 2007 Patriots, '98 Vikings, Greatest Show on Turf...move over baby, there was a new show in town; the DCU Saints were going airborne.
 
Of course, as some of you have already realised, 39 pass plays, means 39 sets of routes, 39 sets of routes which needed memorising...
 
Ah.
 
Archive Rookie Diary:
Rookie Diary April 2nd