The best teams all have one, the guy who finds a different gear on game day. Sure, he goes hard in practice too, but when things get real, he’s just a different animal. We’re not talking about ‘apples and oranges’. You might as well compare pineapples and hand-grenades. He’s a gamer.
It’s fundamental, not a matter of effort so much as a function of constitution. It’s just in there. Who knows where it comes from, and really, who cares? Because hot damn, it sure is a pleasure to be there it comes out!
That’s the only way I can make sense, for myself, of the dog that showed up on opening day. The look in her eye as I slipped on my vest and picked-up the 12-gauge took me straight back to the locker room, the National Anthem and the shimmer of contagious energy radiating from those few gifted teammates.
How does she know, I wondered? But it was no time for questions.
It was game time.