A letter to my flag football quarterback

Dear quarterback,

Just wanted to write you to let you know I’m here. Yelling didn’t help, and the fact that I was open like a Denny’s at three in the morning didn’t get your attention either. So here’s a nice notice in written form.

No one is supposed to not score any touchdowns in flag football, but you managed that yesterday. I would say ‘we managed that’ but I don’t feel any sense of responsibility at all for offensive struggles that our team had.

Let me just get it out of my system…

I was wide open on every play and never got as much as a look from you.

For the first half, I understood that all of us were a little scatterbrained, so I thought maybe you would get into the groove and find me open down the field. I decided not to say anything then.

Bad choice.

The second half was baffling. Never mind the fact that we were already down 44-0. We were playing the reigning champs, we were down a few players. No one really expected to win that game. Expecting to score, though, shouldn’t have been so far out of our minds.

Regardless of my not seeing the ball, we still should have scored at least once. A team scoring 69 points is more believable than a team not scoring any at all in intramural flag football.

But that’s how it ended. Sixty-nine to a big whopping zero.

As much as the score wouldn’t allude to it, we didn’t struggle as bad defensively like we did last week, so props to your coaching skills.

Offensively, however, I think the other team caught on quick to you only passing to one or two very obvious targets.

I get that I’m a girl and you might think that’s a legitimate reason to not feel as confident in my receiving abilities, but if that was your real reason then you wouldn’t have thrown it to your favorite target – also a girl –  so many times without her completing the majority of those plays.

The girl guarding me noticed she didn’t have to work anymore because even if she got burned I still wouldn’t get a pass my way. She even went as far as to ask me why you weren’t throwing to me.

I honestly didn’t know how to respond.

My decision not to say anything to you directly resulted in me swearing in frustration, play after play, as the ball was literally dropped on the other side of the field while I ran deep, wide, sideways and every other way only to find myself waiting, wide open.

It also resulted in me writing this very passive letter.

I’ll be expecting more at our next game.

See you there… and hopefully this time you’ll see me.

Sincerely,

The receiver you seem to have forgotten