This story comes from Jake:
At first, my clip seems pretty mundane if not all together pathetic. But it's the back story behind it that makes it interesting. I was a fourth-string senior wide receiver for Westview High School in San Diego, Calif. Our senior class was supposed to be one of the best Westview ever had, and our coaches expected us to have a legitimate shot at the championship game (the season before we had lost to Tate Forcier's school in the playoffs). Unfortunately, about three or four of our starters were lost to injury for the entire season, and several more were out at different times. We went through five running backs and four quarterbacks—two of them sophomores. I didn't get much game time, playing twice the whole season, once against the future state champs, Oceanside HS, and once against the redneck Ramona Bulldogs. I had not caught a pass in my four years of high school football, as a result I was kinda our team's Rudy. I worked hard, and even though I never started or had any success on the field, my teammates actually made me a captain for the coin toss for one game
The above clip is from a game against Ramona High School. It's the fourth quarter, and we have no chance to win. Coach has pulled the starting sophomore quarterback and put another sophomore in. I personally have had a shitty week—my homecoming date from the week prior has just told me she is dating someone else and is not interested in me. I was really bummed, and on top of it we were going to lose again, further screwing up our chance at a playoff spot (though we did make it with a 3-7 record; go figure). Anyway, it's scrub time for both teams. I'm playing wide receiver and I have just had the ball thrown to me, only to have it sail past my reach. I doubted I would get a second chance, especially because the safety and the corner both decided to cover me and leave our slot receiver wide open. The next play is called, I check my wristband, and I see it's a hitch route for me and a seam for the slot guy, which should be an easy touchdown. That's when the slot receiver comes over from talking with the QB, grabs me by my helmet, and says it's a 4-yard hitch—run, turn around, and catch the damn ball! (Later, I found out the QB wanted the touchdown but the slot guy turned it down so I could get the pass). So I ran, turned around, caught the ball, felt it slip through my hands, and then trapped it against my body. I had done it, and my teammates went wild; the other team was confused as fuck because it was just a 7-yard play. Later, trading cards of me sprouted up around school and I was signing autographs—all for a trash-time 7-yard catch.
The front and back of the trading cards can be seen below (click the images to enlarge):