Televised on ESPN, the Houston/Tulane game was by far Tulane’s most anticipated game of the year. The Green Wave managed a miraculous win with a 53-yard catch and run in the final three seconds, rallying from a 21 point deficit to defeat Houston 38-31. Due to the nature of the game, its ESPN presence, and significance to a growing football program, one student in attendance would be randomly selected to kick a 25-yard field goal for $1000 at the end of the third quarter, officially known as the Allstate "Good Hands" Field Goal Challenge Promotion.
Fortunately, with ten minutes left in the third, I was approached by another student. I knew something was wrong, a kid I’d never seen before toting on-field passes and a security-like headset courted me specifically into a crowd of people. Naturally, I assumed I was in trouble as he wobbled through the crowd towards me.
“Hey kid, Wanna kick a field goal?"
“Why not?” I replied
The only problem was, I had never kicked a football in my life, let alone a field goal. I didn’t exactly look the part either. I scrambled to call every kid I know. I wear a size 10 but was willing to settle for anything between 8 and 11. I even considered an initial exchange for camo crocs. Good shoes were crucial. Luckily, my roommate came by and we exchanged my old tattered rainbows for his equally seasoned Nikes. I laced up and followed my official new friend through the tunnel.
The student led me on the field for my briefing. After filling out all the necessary paperwork and meeting with field officials, I ran a foolproof “how to kick a field goal” search on my phone. I decided three steps back and two to the side would set me up for success. The letters read a little blurry. The third quarter ended and I was quickly ushered onto the field. The ball was teed up and after some headset banter, my new friend gave me the O.K. I approached the ball at full speed.
I couldn’t believe it. The ball sailed through the air and destroyed the net on the backside...I was rich. I sprinted off the field, destroyed the endzone pylon, and dove face-first onto the ground. I proceeded to celebrate with my new friend. It never occurred to me that I would make it. I even skipped the bank information on the consent forms. The Allstate sponsors were in shock. Just 2 minutes ago I was asking them how to kick a ball, and here I was with an $1,000 check.
“You hustled me” yelled one of the Allstate agents as I bounded up and down the sideline.
I was named “football person of the week” and was all over ESPN. My phone was blowing up. People liked the kick, but everyone loved the celebration. I’m writing now to share the end of this fairytale.
After figuring out all of the formalities, I left the game. I didn’t celebrate at the bar or blow the money at the casino as my friends had hoped. I was on the hunt for a rig. I set up craigslist notifications on my phone for every keyword pertaining to the ideal redfish rig, “ipilot, 4stroke, skiff, skimmer, flats, polling” I would save the money until the time was right. On December 8th the fire sale of my dreams was listed.
“14ft skiff, 25hp 4stroke, Ipilot- $1000”
The post was published by a young man with an infant, and a wife that wanted the boat gone. The stars had aligned. I called my buddy Lee, a captain and mentor out of Venice, LA I used to deckhand for. We met outside the owner’s house near Lake Pontchartrain, and after a quick strategy meeting, we settled on the good cop bad cop tire kick classic, a craigslist method of purchase that had worked successfully in the past. However, when the man came out of his house the first thing he said was “Hey Lee!”. Out of nowhere, the two began to chat it up. The seller shuffled over to me and mumbled “$500 and she’s yours.” I shook his hand for $500 and proceeded to introduce myself. The negotiating wasn’t as fun as I’d hoped for but I really can’t complain.
The boat was rough. With patchy backyard fiberglass work, soft spots in the floors, a broken ipilot, and a screaming outboard alarm, the boat wasn’t exactly showroom quality, but for half of my new fortune, she was worth it. When I went to the DMV they couldn’t find anything so we settled on “homemade” for the manufacturer. Which felt fitting.
The boat needed love and I had love to give. She was in "Good Hands"