I always wanted to make my mark. I desperately needed to feel like I had made a difference, even if only to break a record. I was never anything but a quarterback. I was never good at math. I didn't do so well in drama or art. I could throw a football. That was my gift.
In Friday's game, we had the chance to win against the team that had been plaguing our honor for over ten years. Our school had never defeated theirs. The whole school came to every game, praying that just once they could go home feeling our pride as we finally beat the Tigers. The entire school had always been let down. In their own way, they believed in us. They saw hope in us. They needed to feel the joy with us. The joy of triumph.
When we came into the 4th quarter, two things were happening. We were one pass away from winning, and I was about to break the record for passing yards in any high school quarterback. That record had been held, for over twenty years, by Harry Kurzman.
With the whole school watching, we had the chance. We had the chance to be their knights. We could be their heroes, even for just the day. We represented their honor, and this was our chance to let them know that they would not be disappointed. Me, my team, all of us, today we would win it for them all.
I went against the coach's call. He had attempted to tell me to take the tie and not go for the long shot. I changed the play and got my team ready for a long pass. They felt it as much as I did. For just that one day, they wanted to be the heroes. We all wanted it. My coach was just trying to protect me. In order to go for the win, I had to break the passing record. He didn't want me to break the record.
I hesitated slightly on the snap, but I moved quickly. This was for my team, this was for my school, this was for my entire damn town. I gave my receiver enough chance to run the length of the field and I let fly with the ball. My man was uncovered, all alone, and so the whole crowd, and both teams, stood still. The game came down to whether or not he would catch it.
The surge within me when he did was felt by us all. The roar of the crowd was immense. It was all worth it.
I say that because, if you're reading this, whoever you are, then I am dead.
Harry Kurzman was apparently a very serious man about his high school record as a quarterback. I feel terrible for him that he is forced to hang on to something that mattered for only one day. Harry, I pity you, if anyone ever reads this letter.
I promised myself that I would keep this letter in my pocket until I no longer felt that Harry Kurzman was going to kill me. I promised myself that it would stay there until I felt that his death threats, the ones he sent prior to the game, were hollow. In the back of my mind, I couldn't help but be scared.
Sorry, Harry, but this was my chance to shine, and I had to take it, and I am sorry that you had to kill me for it.
I'm praying that this letter will be read by someone besides Harry himself. I'm praying that maybe it will help in his arrest. If anything, you can ask my coach. He read every threat as well.
I want to thank my coach for trying to defend me and save my life. However, as I said before, this was my call and I made the decision. That day... I was a hero... for just that day.
Goodbye, and thank you.
Maybe I should have been a writer instead.
