And Falling Short

Story and Photo by Steve Carr

Go long,” I said to my erstwhile teammate and old friend. 

“I still got this,” I muttered to myself as I rolled out to my right and looked for my receiver.

Had he not heard my call? But then there was movement, painfully, awkwardly slow movement. He was pacing himself, conserving, I thought, before the burst of speed I anticipated.

I cocked my arm and released the half-sized football, leading my receiver like I always did—or once upon a time did. The ball sailed in a wobbly spiral, not as gracefully as I had envisioned, but sailed nonetheless against the cloud-peppered sky that seemed to merge and become one with the water.

Then it fell to the beach—ten yards beyond the outstretched arms of my friend.