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Fifty Yard Line
Fifty Yard Line 1
Poppy
With my press pass around my neck, I had access to everything. This was it. I had jumped at the opportunity to cover this game. As a sophomore, I was on year two of my English degree with a minor in journalism. I was on year two of being a nobody here at the Walton’s Journal. The official news outlet for Walton University. I knew very basic information about football. Primarily that there was an annual professional game that lots of people cared about.
Plenty of other students working for this journal would want this chance, but I happened to be there. Right place, right time, had never been something I could say before, but I practically begged the faculty advisor with a bonus argument that ranged from never having a shot to the last three people to cover male dominated sports being people who identified as male. He puffed out a breath, rolled his eyes, and then nodded. I left that office all calm and collected, but as soon as I was out of that building, I looked like a crazy person shouting for joy and running to the shuttle to get back to my dorm. I had originally planned to argue I should cover the kite flying competition, but when I overhead that Mr. Perfect Journalist had been busted for plagiarism, I wasn’t taking no for an answer. I hated his star journalist. I actually hated a lot of journalists, but I loved taking photographs and telling stories about them, so this seemed like the job for me…if I could make the job work the way it should…with integrity and creativity.
When Friday came around, I was proud of myself. I had done a lot of work to make sure my story would be awesome. I needed to get some epic pics and this would be the start of something big for me. Maybe even convince my parents I was right, and they were wrong about my future. My mom always said I should be a photographer and creative writer if I wanted to take pictures and tell stories. Those weren’t the kind of stories I wanted to write. I wanted to write about real things, people, events.
As I smiled and made my way through the crowd at the sideline, I had to admit, this was a bit intimidating. This school had a robust program, and this game was one that would determine if we moved up in some competition. It was a big deal. I knew that much.
The camera in my hand was my own. I worked my ass off for three summers to buy it and the lens attached to it. I snapped some shots of them warming up, took some video. I snapped way more pictures than necessary of Brady Parker, our star quarterback. He seemed to be doing as much talking as one of the coaches out here. I guess that’s what a captain does, though. Leads the team. A captain who apparently does not do interviews with new journalists because he declined my invitation.
I went looking for other interviews he had done and found very few. Lots of pictures though which is why I ended up not learning anything else about football other than how beautiful that man was.
I looked up at some of the players as they passed by. They were giants and I wasn’t tiny. I spent the time they were off the field trying to figure out the best locations to be in. The other team also had press covering this game. The local news sources and the sports channels were also here. They fed this game into he homes of people who had never attended this school but probably wore sweatshirts with the name on it anyway.
I had to admit, the game from this vantage point was very different than when I had attended the handful of football games I went to in high school. I took some pictures of the fans, the people working different jobs, even of the other press members doing their thing. I had a student press pass, so I got a little more flexibility in where I could travel.
I don’t even know if that was the truth or if I was so overlooked no one stopped me. This is how I ended up at the fifty-yard line, bent to rest my elbow on one knee, during the final play of an intense game. I snapped some pics then set the camera to record. I watched through that lens. Might be why I didn’t actually register how close they were getting until I looked up.
“Oh sh—”
