Day 324- Two-point Conversions
The pain of five turnovers, a bunch of silly penalties spread out over a few games, and a couple of disappointing losses was eased today, thanks in large part to two very important two-point conversions.
When our game against Illinois went into overtime today, I began to have an extreme physical reaction. My fingers and toes went cold, and I was shaking. I wasn't sure how I was going to survive another heart stopping game. You can only imagine how this was magnified when the game required a second overtime... then a third. I was scared that the next time I looked into a mirror, a head of gray hair and a face chock full of wrinkles would be staring back at me.
Thank goodness for the rules! In the third overtime, a team must go for two points if they score a touchdown. Michigan was up first, and- hallelujah- they scored! Tom and I were jumping up and down and high fiving like crazy. The dog spent some quality time outside because the whole scene was entirely too much for him. The two-point conversion followed, and it seemed easy. Taters gonna Tate! At that point, I felt so relieved. I kept repeating to Tom, "We can't lose now. We can't lose! We got all of the points we could." My hands continued to shake, but now it was with an excitement that hadn't entirely been present before. This made for an interesting texting experience.
That wasn't the only two-point conversion that mattered, though. As I repeated (in an OCD way typical of my family), "We just need one stop. We just need one stop. We just need to stop something... the touchdown or the conversion," Illinois scored. One of the announcers commented that it was almost as if the touchdown was a given. We knew it was coming. The true test would be whether or not we could stop the additional play. I totally agreed.
One play would decide. It would decide if today was a win or a loss. It would decide whether or not we would know for sure that we get to go to a bowl game this year. It would decide if we were self-destructing or if we could still salvage some of what was left of our season and end it with our heads held high. It would decide whether or not we could forgive our defense for giving up a ridiculous amount of points... at least for this game.
As the ball was batted down once and for all, the celebrations were out of control in the Ferri homestead. We were jumping for joy and hugging and slapping hands and then jumping and hugging and slapping some more. I was shouting, Tom was singing, and I'm pretty sure there may have been some tears in some eyes that weren't mine.
Yes, I know that it's just two points in one game in one season of one sport that will not change the world or even the BCS rankings. However, it's the little things on little afternoons like this that bring us together in celebration and happiness that we should appreciate and enjoy while we're living them.... and enjoy it, we sure did!
Thank you, two-point conversions, you made my day.
When our game against Illinois went into overtime today, I began to have an extreme physical reaction. My fingers and toes went cold, and I was shaking. I wasn't sure how I was going to survive another heart stopping game. You can only imagine how this was magnified when the game required a second overtime... then a third. I was scared that the next time I looked into a mirror, a head of gray hair and a face chock full of wrinkles would be staring back at me.
Thank goodness for the rules! In the third overtime, a team must go for two points if they score a touchdown. Michigan was up first, and- hallelujah- they scored! Tom and I were jumping up and down and high fiving like crazy. The dog spent some quality time outside because the whole scene was entirely too much for him. The two-point conversion followed, and it seemed easy. Taters gonna Tate! At that point, I felt so relieved. I kept repeating to Tom, "We can't lose now. We can't lose! We got all of the points we could." My hands continued to shake, but now it was with an excitement that hadn't entirely been present before. This made for an interesting texting experience.
That wasn't the only two-point conversion that mattered, though. As I repeated (in an OCD way typical of my family), "We just need one stop. We just need one stop. We just need to stop something... the touchdown or the conversion," Illinois scored. One of the announcers commented that it was almost as if the touchdown was a given. We knew it was coming. The true test would be whether or not we could stop the additional play. I totally agreed.
One play would decide. It would decide if today was a win or a loss. It would decide whether or not we would know for sure that we get to go to a bowl game this year. It would decide if we were self-destructing or if we could still salvage some of what was left of our season and end it with our heads held high. It would decide whether or not we could forgive our defense for giving up a ridiculous amount of points... at least for this game.
As the ball was batted down once and for all, the celebrations were out of control in the Ferri homestead. We were jumping for joy and hugging and slapping hands and then jumping and hugging and slapping some more. I was shouting, Tom was singing, and I'm pretty sure there may have been some tears in some eyes that weren't mine.
Yes, I know that it's just two points in one game in one season of one sport that will not change the world or even the BCS rankings. However, it's the little things on little afternoons like this that bring us together in celebration and happiness that we should appreciate and enjoy while we're living them.... and enjoy it, we sure did!
Thank you, two-point conversions, you made my day.
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