For the Love of the Game

Preface
''Zebra! Zebra!'' I swiveled my head to the other side of the field to look for the rest of my receivers, and I saw the confused looks the coaches were giving me. ''Zebra! Zebra!" I called again.
''What is he doing?" Coach K yelled and threw his clipboard down.
As I stepped up to the line, I noticed that the linebackers were in too close, and they were on the tips of their toes. I looked down and saw that the defensive linemen's knuckles were white. The corners were to the inside and leaning forward. I knew they were bringing the house. I moved back under center, tapped him on the butt, and fell back to shot gun. I scanned the defense and saw the left corner fall back to cover Justin Galloway, and I knew that the right corner would be coming hard.
I looked to the center and raised my foot, but before my cleat hit the grass, the ball was on its way to me. The next thing I knew, the ball was in my hands, and I was on my way to a three step drop. I looked to my left, ready to pass to Colt, but he was covered. I rolled out to my right, and I saw Riley in one-on-one coverage with a safety, but he had beaten him by at least six steps. I cocked my arm back and let it fly. As the ball slid off my fingertips, all the air in my chest was forced out of me as I felt weight of two defensive players as they crashed into me. On my way to the ground, I watched the ball turn into a perfect tight spiral over Riley's shoulder, and it landed like a feather in his hands. I never saw him cross the goal line, but I heard the whistles and the announcer. As I was being crushed by the defensive end and corner, my arm went behind my head and was forced to the ground. I heard a loud pop in my shoulder, and a blinding pain touched my senses.
Patrick shoved the guys off me, and I tried-unsuccessfully- to push myself up. I knew something was seriously wrong with my shoulder. I screamed out in agony, and Patrick motioned for the coaches. Together, Coach K, Coach Hatfield, Coach Regnery, Coach Shrader, Patrick, and Riley got me off the field and to the bench.
''Son, are you hurt or are you injured?" Coach K asked, squatting down in front of me.
''I don't know, sir,'' I said through my tears.
''Well, I suggest you figure it out. Hurt's a jammed finger or a twisted ankle, and you can toughen up and play. If you're injured, you best tell me now.''
''Come on, Eric. The boy's in pain,'' I heard Coach Hatfield say from behind me.
''He may be in pain, but he can speak for himself,'' Coach K said, raising his eyes.
''Injured. My shoulder,'' I managed to gasp.
''Where at?" Coach K asked, and I pointed to the harshest point of pain.
''Sounds like the rotator cuff,'' Coach K said.
''Get me a stretcher!" Coach Hatfield said. Paramedics rushed to my aid and strapped me to a stretcher. They loaded me in the ambulance. As I stared up at the white roof and the nurses in green scrubs, I began to think about everything that had led up to this moment. Let's go back about three months...