I played football all through high school, but was never really much good at it. My freshman, year, though (in Carlyle, IL), I pulled off one feat that impressed even me.

Can’t remember who we were playing, but we were down, and I was playing defensive secondary. They were deep in their own territory, and the running back broke loose. He was on his way to an eighty-five-yard touchdown.

Not on my watch.

I quickly said “oh shit!” and sprinted toward the goal line, angling toward him from the right.

I was closing in, but he was not giving up. I ran as fast as I could, dove, and grabbed him by the ankle. He came down at the 2 yard line. Our meager fan base loved it.

They scored on the next play and we suffered a defeat, but still, ya know, I ran that bastard down.

The next day we were in English class with our buxom teacher, Dixie Parsons. And yes, she was as attractive and charming as her name implies. Long black hair, nice rack. In short: the kind of teacher a 15-year-old boy wants to impress.

One of my teammates asked, “Miss Parsons, did you see our game last night?”

She pondered a moment and said, “Yes, yes I did. And you know what impressed me the most? When Mr. Webel ran all the way down the field and tackled that guy.”

I can’t remember if I got an erection, but I probably did.

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