It was in that instant that I heard the call. I put on a burst of speed and, using the righthand goal-line tree, put a perfect pick (and I didn't even know what a pick was then) on my defender and cut left. Just as he was going down, Al saw me and threw.
He'd led me a little too much, but I stretched and stretched and caught the ball on my fingertips. I clutched it to my chest, wrapping my arms around it.
In that second I also ran headlong into the other goal-line tree. It was a sycamore, I think.
When I came to, I was on my back, over the goal line, still holding the ball.
Somebody on my team said, "Hell, we win."
I heard that, but what I really remember was that as we were walking off the field, Al Blaylock put his arm around me and said, "Well, boy, after that catch I don't think you'll ever have to worry about being picked last again."
My supreme moment.
I'd never have to worry about being picked last again...at least not on Dr. Simon's vacant lot.