The Diner's Rookie Diary
by Sam Monson
29/4/2008
 
Instalment #4, the waiting is over, your humble Diner reporter is going to battle – it's game time, baby! The morning of the first game had arrived, and what a glorious morning it was. So having packed everything and thrown it in the car, it was time to make the arduous journey across the city to ALSAA (God himself has no ethereal clue what this stands for), where our field of battle awaited.
 
Of course, as I'm sure you're well used to by now; things were not going to go that smoothly. No sooner had I arrived at the car-park, the phone began to belt out AC/DC's Highway to Hell (try topping that as a ringtone! No, don't bother, it can't be topped!). Naturally I was needed to bring a house key back to let somebody in... Somehow I get the impression Randy Moss never had these problems. An hour later I had struggled my way back through the city, done the needful, and then hauled myself all the way back again. By the time I actually arrived on scene my spine had been carefully crafted into the very shape of a 2001 Seat Ibiza Cool -S seat. For those of you trying to picture that, it's really not a natural spinal shape...
 
Anyway, due to missing the entire pre-game organisation whilst I was carefully bending my spine into shapes God never intended, I set about mending bridges with the QB – we all know they're a temperamental type – by running some deep routes to warm up. The sun was shining, there wasn't a hint of wind in the air, and we thought we were going to be passing all day – oops.
 
By the time the game had rolled around, the conditions had cooled off, the sky was clouding over, but what was even more problematic, Carrickfergus had actually game-planned to stop our passing. Ah. This was a problem. Sitting 10 yards back off the line, and reading only the QB's eyes, the Knights intercepted our errant passes early and often, putting the Defense in a hole they couldn't be expected to dig their way out of all day.
 
It wasn't until the 4th quarter that we managed to figure out how to exploit this tactic (throw it short and take what they give you, stupid – I hear you cry), and low and behold, we began to move the ball. Of course at this stage there was now a bitter wind and driving rain – perfect short, hard, precise passing weather..!
 
The game ended 18-6, with our only score coming on a punt return from the dangerous wide out, Paddy Coleman. We had been beaten soundly, but felt firmly that we had beaten ourselves, and were well capable of winning a game against that level of competition.
 
The stat-line for your intrepid Diner reporter? Possibly the worst stats ever recorded:
Thrown to: 1
Catches: 0
Cornerback returned it to the 1 yard line, where they punched it in 2 plays later.
 
I'll admit the debut could have gone better.
 
Needless to say, this didn't sit well with Coach. He hadn't gone to the trouble of a rousing motivational speech before the game (affectionately known to some as the 'rant') only to see us mess the thing up.
 
We had a week of practices before the second game – a shot at redemption.
 
So another Sunday arrived, and another game-day. There was a mixed feeling going into this game. The opponent was the Tallaght Outlaws, who only the week before had been beaten 98-0. This meant of course that we should be confident of coming away with a win. Of course it also meant we would look like prize-winning Muppets if we didn't We again set about the usual pre-game walk-throughs and warm-ups. This time the weather made its presence felt early, pelting us with the Godfather of all hail-storms right as we were about to stretch. I have never before seen 45 people all try and hide under one golf umbrella.
 
So we donned helmets to shield us from the hail and stretched. The hail then melted, and turned al already dodgy pitch into something resembling the Somme. It also had the effect of changing our opening play on offense – which was particularly grating for your hacked off Diner reporter, as it had been scripted as a quick WR screen pass to yours truly. Having perused the playbook a touch at this stage, I felt that this idea had some legs, and suggested it in the Friday training session. We ran it twice, and both times it worked for a huge gain. I was intent on taking the opening play for a TD... The weather wasn't so keen.
 
The messy conditions practically prohibited passing, the early part of the game was spend just trying to keep hold of the ball, with both teams trading fumbles. Coach had already been pretty close to ballistic during his pre-game 'rant', but threatened to go genuinely postal upon the second botched centre exchange. A neat circle around the man formed as players edged backwards waiting for the 'BOOM' as his head actually explodes.
 
Eventually the Saints were able to establish a ground game, and we ran our two headed backfield at Tallaght all day. This was not a vintage day to be a WR, but there was a chance to warm the body for brief periods, being send on to run block from the slot, and then from the flanker position. Then came my first moment of glory – OK, glory might be pushing it, but when your only previous action consisted of being the guy in whose vicinity the pick-6 was thrown, it was a big deal – on a RB sweep to the left, I had pushed my man wide, but the RB was coming inside, and the corner had an angle. Just before he came in to drag the runner down, your humble diner reporter changed his plans, delivering a block that send him bouncing to the mud. That felt good. The kind of block that you don't even feel, like that sweet spot on a tee shot when all you hear is 'Piiiing'.
 
I'd have been pretty happy with that, truth be told, but I wasn't finished yet. In the final minutes of the game, we had begun to open things up in the air. The game might have been out of reach, but we needed to build momentum, having accomplished practically zero on offense in the previous game, and little through the air in either. First a nice deep bomb was hauled in by fellow WR, Dave Mullins, then came my moment.
 
Down inside the red-zone a pass play was called, and I turned to look for the ball as I crossed the goal line. There it was, and it was within reach! I hauled it in, wrapped it up and fell to the ground like a girl. I had my first touchdown! Celebrations were in order. Mullins had set the bar high, with some choreographed dusting off mime. Unfortunately all my creative juices could manage on short notice was to spike the ball and then perform a leaping chest-bump with one of the O-linemen. I'll work on it, I promise...
 
The best part? We had a photographer down for the match, and the immortal moment was captured on film!
 
Next instalment – Wait and see!
 
Archive Rookie Diary:
Rookie Diary April 17th
Rookie Diary April 5th
Rookie Diary April 2nd