I wasn't into flag football at first. The others on my team knew their stuff, doing moves with terms I only pretended to get. My cousin got me in by calling it “fun,” which really means “you’ll struggle, but it’ll feel nice.”

 

The time I remember most popped up at a regular practice once, late in the day. Heat hung heavy, the grass sloped weirdly, while some players moaned their flags slipped off every few seconds. The coach shouted nonstop about steps, yet I just nodded along without really getting what “move quick on your feet” actually meant.

 

We were doing a practice game when I ended up playing defense. Defense sucked because everything moved faster than me by just a hair. When the action kicked off, their QB bolted forward rather than passing. Yelling broke out everywhere; for a moment, voices blurred into chaos. The quarterback charged down the field at me, yet I just stood there. Totally still. My mind scrambled to pick a direction, left or right, but before I made up my mind, he’d already dashed past.

 

Then outta nowhere, a dumb break came. Down he went.

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A small slip, not even a real fall, still, it made him hesitate, so I lunged and snatched his flag. Didn’t believe I could do it. Stared at the fabric in my palm like reality had hiccupped.

 

People began shouting out loud. Not because of the players. Because of me.

 

It was weird since I’d always been the guy who stayed quiet in crucial moments. Not quick on my feet. Never built like a powerhouse either. Nobody counted on me to turn things around when it mattered. Yet right then, stuff just fell into place. Suddenly, the rhythm made sense, the positioning, the shifts in movement, how you track their body low instead of getting tricked by their gaze. Well, truthfully, I got a small glimpse into who I really am. Perhaps I’m not that far off from where I assumed.

 

Later on, once drills ended, the coach passed me, muttering, “Look, ya got it spot-on.” I kept quiet about how I hadn’t read a thing; the QB slipped all on his own. Still, that boost kind of stayed.

 

The next match I didn’t shine, yet I also wasn’t clueless. I pushed myself more. My focus got sharper. Instead of freezing up, I started moving fast. Then, when I snagged a flag again toward the end of the season, no fluke at play, just a solid understanding kicking in.

One slip, one random instant, sort of flipped everything about the game for me. Not just some activity pushed on me by others anymore. Instead, it turned into my own thing, something I actually enjoyed.