Sidelined- The Qb And Me -

But the sidelines taught me the lie of that wisdom.

Derek had the arm. The cannon. The ability to throw a laser beam into a window the size of a pizza box. I had the precision of a jeweler; if I snapped the ball a half-inch too high or too low, the punter’s laces wouldn't turn, and the kick would sail wide right. Derek got the glory of the touchdown pass; I got the anxiety of the extra point snap. If I failed, the scoreboard didn’t change. If Derek failed, we lost the game. That was the conventional wisdom, anyway. Sidelined- The QB and Me

The ball sailed end over end, clearing the crossbar by a foot. But the sidelines taught me the lie of that wisdom

He blinked. For the first time in three years, Derek saw me. Not the jersey number. Not the equipment manager. He saw the pressure. The ability to throw a laser beam into