I want to share something really goofy with you – really goofy.
So, I’m sitting in a movie theater, watching the last trailer before the movie starts …. and it happened. I heard the intro to my movie’s trailer. Then the scene illuminates in my imagination and I’m seeing the trailer for my novel’s movie – Desert High.
It starts off with the voice of one Michael Moye – a sophomore player on our varsity football team at Desert High School:
(Moye): “I say Desert – you say Scorpions”
Desert – “
(The rest of the team): “SCORPIONS!”
A shot of the Desert High football team on the sidelines, getting fired up before the kickoff.
I am hearing all of this loud and clear in my head
And I’m seeing the edits, too.
This sudden “vision” of sorts brings me an immediate emotional rush.
I choke up.
Shots of football action takes center stage.
It’s the end of the Desert vs. Mammoth 1980 CIF playoff game.
The Mammoth Huskie team, with their dark maroon jerseys and golden/orange helmets are rushing to the line of scrimmage near the goal line.
The Desert Scorpions defense is lining up in their all-white uniforms and helmets.
The camera is moving fast and jumbling a bit – emphasizing the action.
The camera pans over to the Desert sidelines.
The Desert coaches are shouting at the refs, a couple are rotating their arms, trying to signal the referees that they should be running the clock instead of keeping it stopped.
“The last play was a running play,” they’re shouting, “roll the clock!”
They’re faces are exploding with animation, disbelief and anger.
The running play is stuffed. The Mammoth quarterback, Marty Zwartz, tosses the ball into the end zone with both hands – like an inbound basketball pass. Their offensive tackle jumps on it. The officials raise their hands.
TOUCHDOWN!
The camera shakes, showing pandemonium, the Desert players are waving their arms, signifying incomplete pass. The Mammoth players are jumping and raising their hands, celebrating.
Another scene shows three officials in various semi-formal clothes standing around in an office with a placque on the wall reading “California Interscholastic Federation Athletic Officials Regional Office.” They’re shaking their heads, holding both hands up in a shrug, admitting to the Desert coach, “We have no excuses, Coach. We blew these calls. We should have run the clock. We’re sorry.”
Another quick edit shows a few Desert High players hanging out in a driveway, sharing beverages and memories. They’re in their mid-30s, talking about this game:
“I saw the ball coming right at me,” one says, “I batted it down. Incomplete pass. Game over.” The rest of his friends shake their heads, and quickly express how messed up the situation was.
Another scene shows tailback Kelly Love explaining, “Coach Matthews apologized to me later,” he says, as the screen shows black and white archive footage of him running around the end for a touchdown, “He told me that it was this game where he finally learned that giving me the ball 25, 30 times in a game can take over and wear the other team out.”
The next edit shows me typing in my windows password to open the operating system in my editor’s office. The camera shows my fingers on the keyboard and the individual letters that pop up and then turn into asterisks. M – a – m – m – o – t – h – S – u – c – k –s is seen and my lips are moving and saying the phrase under my breath.
The phone rings, the camera shows me picking it up.
“Doug! How’s my favorite brother-in-law?”
The camera splits the screen, showing Major Martin “Tex” Myers on the other end.
“You won’t believe this, Doug, but we’ve built a time machine out here at Edwards.”
A close up of my eyes flashes.
“Remember that Mammoth playoff game your senior year? We’re looking for a guinea pig to go back…”
The camera flashes back to action from the game.
It shows me walking down the gateway, about to board a plane, with my thoughts narrated, “Here I am, participating in a secret mission with a security clearance from the United States Air Force and how do they transport me from Austin to Edwards? Southwest Airlines,” my character shakes his head.
I see other parts of the “movie” in my head. The playoff game at Trona, the players hanging out on a Saturday night, deciding to do “monkey rolls” drills on the grass in someone’s front yard. The flightline at Edwards A.F.B. with all sorts of jets on it.
It kinda makes me weepy and I can’t shake the feeling for the next two hours while I’m watching a pretty good flick in The Hunger Games. I’m engaged in this story, but I’m practically gripping my seat with the adrenaline and feel-good emotion of imagining my dream of seeing my Desert High novel becoming a big-time movie.
It’s so goofy and I’m lame to admit this, but I’m just flooded with these emotions. Afterward I sense that tension in my stomach – like I could run a marathon or box Rocky Balboa in the ring for 15 rounds. I’m just pumped up and choked up at the same time.
Wow.
I so want to see this happen.
Call it a pipe dream, call it far-fetched, call it Walter Mitty daydreaming his life away, but I like that feeling.
Who knows if anything’ll happen with this. All I know is that my imagination caught a glimpse of it tonight (it was vivid) and it fired me up in a big way.
Yes, it’s true. I’m a total idiot. I’m even dumber for sharing these thoughts, but I don’t really care if everyone knows how much of a goober I am. I don’t care.
Watch, tomorrow I’ll regret having posted this. Ha ha.
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