If you were NFL Films, what would you do?

Hey.

I haven't posted in forever, I know, but I finally have something that I think really needs to go in this blog. The following is a writing sample I was asked to produce by NFL Films to see if they want to hire me as a production assistant. They specified that it had to be about football and non-fiction, which I kinda ignored for the sake of their other requirement, that it be interesting. They didn't appreciate my original thinking, so they made me write another one. I think I like them both alright, but read for yourself and ask only this: would you hire me? Here's the first one, with the next to come in another post:

Duality

The link between NFL players is an indelible one. Men who spend their entire professional lives virtually in the trenches, struggling, pushing and brutalizing each other over one hundred yards of turf tend to become very intimately aware of one another. They know what makes their allies on the sidelines tick, and they also try to know every nuance of their opponents’ games. But some connections are especially personal. The sage veteran will use these connections to his advantage if he can, but in the right context, even an unpolished newcomer can be their beneficiary. Imagine the following scenario:

Sinorice Moss picked himself up off the ground again and staggered back to the huddle. He was getting killed. Not literally, but he may as well have been. His new team, the Giants, was up against it in a tough game with Tampa Bay. Plaxico Burress and Amani Toomer were both down with injuries, and after a good week of practice the coaching staff had given him his first chance to start as an NFL wide receiver. Sinorice was only a rookie, but he knew that a chance like this doesn’t come around every week; he had learned that lesson well enough in college ball. With only sixteen games a year, you have to make every play count if you want to impress enough to stick around. Moss, however, was so busy thinking about his big chance, remembering his routes, not messing up his blocking assignments and trying to forget about all the cameras and lights and people that he was barely able to keep his feet. He was so turned around he couldn’t even remember the name of the corner lining up against him from the team strategy session. All he knew for sure was that number 20 was getting in his face and either crushing him at the line or sticking to him like white on rice every down. And his coaches were not pleased.

Sinorice shuffled to a lonely spot on the sideline after another three-and-out. He did his best just to avoid head coach Tom Coughlin’s eyes. Just then Tiki Barber, the Giants’ star running back walked over to him.

“Tough day, huh, rook? Old number 20’s really got you in lockdown.”

“Yeah,” was all Sinorice could muster as a response.

Tiki flashed a smile that had sold a million Power Bars. “Well, you know what you gotta do with him is, next time we throw you make a double move. You make your plant step like you’re gonna run an out, and turn your shoulders just slightly, then you jab back to the left like you’re gonna do a post, hold on that foot for a fraction of a second, then push off it and fly right past toward the end zone. He always goes for that; and with your speed he won’t be able to keep up.”

“Alright, but--what if we don’t call that in the huddle? I mean, Coach said I’d get released if I ran the wrong route one more time.”

Tiki just laughed. “Trust me, rook, we need a big play. You just do what I told you, and everything else will take care of itself.”

Sinorice contemplated what Tiki had said as the defense forced a punt, and the Giants got the ball back. How could he know that move would work on Tampa’s corner? he thought as he struggled just to get in number 20’s way on a minimal first down gain. I mean, what’s so special about that route? was all he could think as a screen got the Giants another couple. He just seemed so sure…

Eli Manning’s annoyed clap in Sinorice’s face brought him back to reality. “Hey, man, you awake? Let’s go, it’s third and short, but we need to catch ‘em sleeping here, guys.” The young quarterback ran through the play as Sinorice tried desperately to decipher its code. Then out of nowhere, Tiki spoke up.

“Hey, Eli. Keep an eye on the kid on this one. He’s got an edge.” Sinorice could only stare blankly in Tiki’s direction as Eli smiled knowingly and broke the huddle. As he jogged up to the line, Sinorice began to consider Tiki’s plan. He had tried every route the coaches could come up with, and number 20 had not been fooled for a second, but somehow Tiki’s trump card was supposed to get him open. Plus it wasn’t at all like the pattern he was supposed to be running. This was a really bad idea. Then at the last moment he realized it really couldn’t get any worse than the spanking he had been getting already. Why not?

Eli took the snap, and Sinorice trotted forward to set up the out move. He turned slightly to his right, then sharply zagged left and lingered for a hair’s breadth of a second before launching himself toward the goal line. Moments later, sprinting with his head down, he realized he was running alone for the first time all game. He looked up, and there was the ball, floating in a tight spiral toward his head. He stretched out his arms, and the flying orb settled neatly into his open hands. He continued sprinting right into the end zone, and the Giants Stadium faithful erupted. New York was right back in the game, and Sinorice was so dumbfounded at what had happened that he just stood there staring at the ball until his teammates mobbed him.

The young wideout returned to the sideline, still confused as to what had actually occurred, and a young man rushed up and snatched the ball from him, saying he had to preserve it as a memento of Sinorice’s first touchdown. Coach Coughlin and his coordinators were so caught up in being back in the game they didn’t even chew him out for running the wrong route. It was all like the veteran back had told him. Sinorice took off his helmet, sat down and grabbed a cup of water. There was Tiki, standing over him.

“Nice catch, man.”

“Yeah, yeah, thanks for that. But I don’t get it. How’d you know that move would work so well?”

“You still haven’t figured that out? Damn, you really are a rookie. It’s a twin thing, man.” Sinorice looked at him quizzically. Tiki chuckled and said, “Just take a good look into 20’s grill the next time you line up.”

Still baffled, Sinorice lined up for the first play of the Giants’ next series and did as he was told once more. He stared into number 20’s face…and was shocked to see a spitting image of Tiki looking back at him. He looked away and thought, Oh, now I…

Suddenly number 20, Ronde Barber, chucked him right under his shoulder pads, lifted him up in the air and drove him back five yards before dumping him hard on his back and going to make the tackle. Sinorice just laid there, his wind knocked out. Ronde returned and stood over him.

“Tell Tiki to kiss my ass,” he said. Sinorice finally took a second to remember that number 20 was Tiki Barber’s identical twin brother. He looked over at Tiki in the huddle, flashing that same smile that Ronde had as he laughed with his fellow defenders. Sinorice scraped himself up off the turf again and headed back to the sideline to get his scolding from the coaches. He wasn’t angry or dejected (though his ribs were a bit sore); he was actually pretty satisfied. The Barber brothers had taught him a valuable lesson about the intimate connections inherent to playing in the NFL, and how they can make a huge difference between success and falling flat. He just hoped he got a chance to return the favor someday.

~Jakeman