“How old are you?”
“13.”
I wish I could tell you I felt confident to be playing a child eight years my junior with a height barely above my stomach. I’ll admit, though, I was petrified. Clad in a maroon Clinton Portis jersey, I knew this kid had probably been mastering the ins and outs of Madden for the past month and a half every day after learning how to divide fractions. At this point, it didn’t really matter that I could write essays with word counts he would have trouble multiplying because I was on his turf, and we both knew it.
I had known that I would be playing in the Madden Challenge since early September. I had decided early on in my “training” that I was going to run with the Kansas City Chiefs. I’m an Eagles fan by birth, but I wanted to use a team that could at least give me a reasonable chance to win, and the Chiefs’ high-powered offense seemed to fit the bill. As my opponent, Darren, and I begin selecting teams, I wondered who he would pick. He was young so I expected he might go with the Falcons and Michael Vick or the Raiders and Randy Moss, all trendy picks used by previous winners for their ability to do things in the game that can’t be done in real life. Nope, the kid jumped my heart about 30 paces by picking the lowly Titans. He then proceeded to set audibles and change playbooks, all while I sat there hoping I wouldn’t fall victim to the 24-point skunk-rule, to a 13-year old no less.
I lose the coin toss and prepare to play a little defense, but the little punk elects to kick-off. I’m ready to snap his head off and lazily punt it into the Anacostia River. An average kick return puts me at about the 25-yard line. I already know I want to start with some play-action to throw the kid off a bit. He doesn’t bite and when I see Samie Parker drop a catchable but wobbly pass, I know it’s going to be a long game. I go three-and-out and get back some field position.
The kid immediately goes to work. In three plays I realized why he’s picked the Titans: their receivers are huge. Before I know it, he’s marched down the field throwing three feet above every one of my cornerbacks, out of a full house formation nonetheless. Somehow, I put together a stop and hold him to a field goal. My anxiety wears off a bit as I delude myself into thinking I might be able to play with this kid.
My next possession, I decide I’m going to throw to Tony Gonzalez every play. In my limited practice, I’ve discovered that if a ball is within TG’s grasp, he’ll catch it and break the occasional tackle. With otherwise bad receivers, I force a throw to Gonzalez and get picked off. Another defensive stand and the kid kicks a field goal to take a 6-0 lead into the second quarter.
Now things start to get ugly. Down only a touchdown, I turn to Priest Holmes for some semblance of a running game. The kid puts Priest down on three straight plays, the last a jarring tackle on third-and-two that elicits some shirt-pulling and shoulder dusting from him and a tapping foot from me. He gets the ball back and scores a touchdown courtesy of Tyrone Calico’s ridiculous height. The score is 13-0 and I’m feeling the game slip away.
My next possession begins with a crafty screen pass to Priest, who gets past the first-down line, but takes a huge hit and fumbles. The kid puts another one in as the half expires on some more cheap passing. More shirt-tugging combines with some actual trash-talking. He promises to skunk me. I say nothing, because he’s probably going to make good on it.
The second half opens and I switch from man to zone coverage, which gives me a chance to make some plays with my safety. The strategy works and I induce a punt, which Dante Hall returns into Titans territory. I’m in business. I start running some of my reliable pass plays and manage to punch in a Touchdown on a play-action pass to Tony Gonzalez. The only problem is I’ve used a lot of clock and since we’re playing two-minute quarters, I’m pretty screwed. I kickoff with some time left in the third quarter.
At about this time, the kid’s uncle comes over fresh from getting beat by his son. The uncle starts trash-talking for me, assuring the kid he’ll blow the game. He offers me 20 bucks to beat him, which I would gladly have taken if I could have.
Once the fourth quarter starts, it looks like I’m done. Then, my first break happens. Chris Brown runs to the left side, but Kendrell Bell meets him as I furiously punch the hit stick in an attempt to force a fumble. It works! One of my fat, slow lineman picks up the ball and rumbles down to the 10-yard line. More play-action and more Tony Gonzalez and suddenly it’s 20-14 with a minute-and-a-half left and all of my timeouts remaining.
A small crowd starts forming behind us as we are suddenly the close game to watch. I get some celebratory whoops when I recover the onside kick. Just like that, I go from dead to very much alive. Needing a touchdown, I switch to a five-receiver set and hope for the best. My prayers are nearly answered when Dante Hall streaks down the right-side of the field and burns a Titans’ cornerback. Then I realize why Dante Hall only plays in five-receiver formations in video games and real life: he drops the ball. No one around and he drops the ball. I got a few pity moans, but the damage has already been done. I air it out again on fourth down, and even though Tony Gonzalez has a linebacker trailing him, I know he’s going to drop it before he does. The kid puts in another touchdown for good and the game ends, 26-14.
I leave the playing area equal parts angry and ecstatic. Dante Hall, I mutter to myself as I walk away. Yet, I am thrilled that the game ends respectably with me looking bad, but not awful. Yes, I got beat by a 13-year old, but let me tell you naysayers something: 202-687-6780. Anytime, any place. Call me up. Ask for Mike Jones.
