Yesterday it was gorgeous outside as Meredith and I biked to Brooklyn for a touch football game. Our team had not won all season and this would be our last game. From the beginning, we could tell this game was going to be different. Our two teams were evenly matched. Like us, they were a ragtag group with a number of good athletes, but their offense just never seemed to click. The feeling was intense. Two teams, with no wins, fighting for a bit of dignity. We kept matching each other, score for score. Whenever one team felt like they were pulling ahead the other team would come right back. This happened for the entire game until, finally, it was the end. We were tied with 18 seconds on the clock and it was my turn to QB. I have never been the most confident athlete, but something was different this time. I wasn’t nervous. I guess after doing stand up comedy for so many years in front of hostile audiences, including a benefit show for Puerto Rican cops where they heckled me with threats of arrest, trying to throw a touchdown in the last seconds of a tied touch football game just didn’t seem that scary. I knew before I hiked the ball that I was going to throw to Anthony, our team’s version of Wes Welker. He’d been my most reliable receiver, always finding a way to get open. I hiked the ball, looked for Anthony, and then I let it go right down the middle. He caught it mid stride like he had done all season. The other team looked as stunned as we were at the realization that this was actually happening. Anthony took it all the way down to the goal line before he was ‘tackled.’ We quickly called a time out. There was 1 and a 1/2 seconds on the clock. Everyone on our team was laughing at how ridiculous this situation was. All season we had struggled against every opponent without even one chance for a win and now here, at our last game, we were faced with the opportunity and it was all down to one play with 1 and a 1/2 seconds on the clock. Like a scene from some cheesy Disney sports flick, we we’re getting our one last chance at glory. We quickly lined up. Again, I made a decision before I hiked the ball. I didn’t know who the ball would go to, but I knew I was going to throw to the back left corner of the end zone because their best players were inching toward the right. I hiked the ball. I listened to their rusher count down waiting to charge in for the sack. I looked toward the right to try and draw the defense away from my intended destination. Then I looked left and there he was, Hudjy. Hudjy is our team’s version of Calvin Johnson. He’s strong, tall and completely reckless. Hudjy and I had not had the best record together. He was the opposite of Anthony to me. I was constantly overthrowing him. In fact, earlier in the day I had thrown an interception while trying to hit him for a short pass over the middle. I let the ball go. Hudgy leapt in the air and, like always, no one could get as high as him. As the ball hit his hands he pulled it in and fell to the ground, rolling along the out of bounds line at the back of the end zone. Was he in? I looked toward the Ref, a short pudgy man, who had previously ejected my teammate, Alex Farlow, for telling him he sucked (after blowing a call where Meredith Hackman had clearly ‘tackled’ the other team’s player). Surely this would be a good time to take revenge for that insult. Call Hudjy out of bounds and the game ends and we never get our win, but that didn’t happen. Instead, he raised his hands high and called a touchdown. We had won! For a brief moment, a bunch of adults were acting like kids, jumping around and yelling and laughing. We took a team photo and then Meredith and I were off, biking back home for a steak dinner and to talk about plans for next season. Who knows, maybe we’ll win another game.