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Unofficially, we are 1-1 and 1. Unofficially, that is because the YMCA does not keep score. However, when a team does score a touchdown they have the option to try a conversion from the two yard line or the five yard line. Therefore the scoring system is as follows:

Touchdown = 6 points.
Extra Point = 1 point from the two yard line (team must pass) 2 points from the 5 yard line (run or pass)
Safety = 2 points.

Huh?

Again, though, the YMCA does not keep score.

Come time for the final whistle, these kids care for one thing and one thing only. "What's the score?" There's a couple of smarties on the team that seem to have figured out the unofficial scoring system and as soon as I offer up, "It was a tie. A hundredy seven to a hundredy seven," are quick to counter, "Nuh, uh. They didn't get their extra point that one time. We won!!"

Cheers ensue and twelve little boys go berserk, "We won!! We won!!"

"Hey, kid. Whatever helps you sleep at night."

How do I get myself in these situations? My son, Zane, all of six years old is what many might call a football fanatic. Fanatic is just another word for lunatic but because they are able to focus the lunacy to a single area (team, sport) they can get away with the lesser of the damning monikers. The boy lives, eats and breathes football. I blame my wife. She's a lunatic uhm fanatic (see, it's a fine line) about her football.

Zane decided he wanted to play flag football this year and I took him up to the local YMCA to register. There was a small box at the bottom of the form asking for assistance with coaching. I spoke with the director and said I would help out whenever possible as my schedule allowed--that whole 5 kid card I keep playing. Gets me out of a lot!

About a week before the season, the director called and asked if I would be available to attend a coaches meeting and I said sure. When I arrived, he handed me a list of names and said, "Here's your team."

"Wait a minute. My team?? I don't know anything about football. I can't coach!"

"You'll be fine," he said. And the rest is, as they say, history.

Game one--we're playing the Bengals. These kids were scary. Black jerseys, black pants, black socks, black cleats. They even had those black smudges you wipe under your eyes. It was downright intimidating. They had the yell. You've heard it or seen it. You know when a linebacker has made a sack and stands over the quarterback's crumpled carcass arms flexed and body tensed yelling towards the heavens, "Aaaarrrhhhh!!!"

That one. They had that yell. I even think I heard one of their guys say, "Let's kill em!"

Contrast that with my little lambs. "Coach, where do I stand? I'm thirsty. Can I be running back? Coach, I gotta pee. Do I block? Coach, what do I do? Coach, I found a grasshopper."

The game was almost as diverse. At one point, I look up to see their coach in the huddle, players listening intently, flipping through the pages of a laminated play book . We were drawing plays in the dirt. That is, when I could actually get my guys to form a huddle.

They had pass plays. Even if one of our kids could catch a ball we don't have a kid that can throw it.

It was a slaughter.

Fortunately for us, though, the YMCA does not keep score.

Games two and three were marginally better. We've got a grand total of four plays now--all runs. And with those four plays we have compiled a record of one win, one loss, and one tie---unofficially, of course. The team is coming together and the boys are having fun. I think that should count for something.

Oh, and Zane scored his first touchdown! Buckeye 1 Fake. It's a fake hand-off to the left, quarterback keeper. He ran the length of the field, all 80 yards of it. Even threw a nice Heisman stiff arm en route. The jubilation he felt at having crossed the goal line, flags intact, paled in comparison to the pride I felt at having been able to watch him do it.

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