Dave Brisbin 7.26.26
Played high school football my first two years. Bookish kid trying to fit in, never got off the bench in league play. But I could learn that playbook. Knew it cover to cover better than the starters. Took some nerdy pride in that.
Small and fast, they put me at tight end and during a training scrimmage, quarterback called an end around. I knew that play cold: two steps off the line, planted, spun around across the backfield, quarterback fading into view, ball suspended in my path, slapped against my chest. Clamped down and turned back toward the line. Perfectly executed. But in my mind, the play was over. No more lines on the page. Holding the ball with absolutely no idea what to do next.
A big linebacker showed me.
I had focused on what I could understand, but everything it means to be a football player starts where the playbook ends. The parts we can read and memorize are not why we go to football games. What we do when nothing is telling us what to do…that’s worth a ticket.
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We look to religion, its scripture, laws, beliefs, rituals—playbook and promise. If we follow the book, we’ll be safe. Saved. It may actually seem to work for awhile, until we suddenly find ourselves holding the ball with no idea what to do next.
Religion puts the play in motion. Jesus shows us how to exceed the playbook and run downfield with the ball. Life begins where the playbook ends. Why we buy the ticket. The way ahead is trackless ocean, a field of linebackers. Frightening. We could get in trouble. But that’s how you know it’s an adventure.
