Early January 2003 found Cameron and I hanging out in our church's youth building the night of the Super Bowl. We showed up expecting some kind of partytime but found that everyone who could drove had left by the time we got there. Middle schoolers were playing basketball and the game was showing on the big screens next to the stage. Unimpressed, Cameron and I decided to drive to St. John's, the Catholic church down the street, to see what schemes against Protestantism they were plotting. We soon arrived at the Catholic youth indoctrination program and started eating all of their chips and dip and drinking all of their Mountain Dew. The Breffeilhs were there, along with some other weird kid. The weird kid told me he had been to my website and had my picture as his desktop wallpaper. I thought that was a little creepy, so I avoided him for the rest of the night.

Eventually, the Catholic youth minister called the meeting to order. There was to be a paper football tournament in the few minutes. Cameron and I signed up quickly, realizing our chance to represent the Methodists and totally lay down a reverse Inquisition-style beating on the Catholics. Soon enough, the competition started. Intense as it was, I managed to make it to the semi-finals, where I was finally defeated. The next year we returned to take another crack at the title. A kid I had never seen before beat me in the first round. Ashamed, we ran away like the pansies that we were. Every time I saw that kid at school afterwards, he laughed at me. I deserved it.

My kicking game lost it for me the second year. A good holder is hard to come by.