To contact us Click
HERE
10 years later and I am starting to think…maybe life is moreabout the misses…than the makes.
Like a brilliant diamond, it was the thousands of cuts,that made it so magnificent. It’s the refinement process that produces beauty.
ESPN’s top play of the week referred by many Michigan fansas simply “The Kick”, contains more than a singular kick. Actually, there wereplural “kicks” in the game that led up to the one that most remember.
I still recall folks telling me after the game that oneday people will forget the misses, and only recount how they felt as “The Kick”from 44 yards out, with ESPN College Game Day nearby, split the uprights togive Michigan a two point advantage as time expired in front of 110,000screaming fans.
I still have the ESPN sport center game review and I find asmuch meaning in The Kick, as I do in what I will dub “The Misses”…and a coupleof them being big misses.
The first miss came in the first quarter. The Wolverines hadbroken out into an early lead thanks to the legs of Chris Perry. On 4
thdown I was called in to attempt an average field goal attempt of 37 yards. Goodsnap, good hold, wind at my back…but wide left. Directly into the studentsection.
I was a little stumped bythe outcome because I thought I made good contact, but during film review thenext day revealed that I brought my head up to soon which caused me to hook thekick.
The second miss, well….the term wide left doesn’t do itjustice. ESPN Sport Center commentators referred to it as a “wounded duck.” Atthat point, fans would rather have put stock in seeing their first ever flying pig before theysaw me kick a pig skin through any uprights.
Well, after recovering in the locker room after a shameful and down right ugly start to my career as a placekicker at the winningest college football programin history, my fate was looking gloom, quite contrary to the hot, bright sunnyday that was Ann Arbor that day.
Warming up before the start of the second half resulted ineven more embarrassment as every kick continued to go wide left, but this timeeach one soaring into the hands of a 19 or 20 something kid that shared thatsame title as “student” as me. They were my peers, but they were not forgivingof my performance. They began to boo as I had a difficult time kicking the ballstraight.
Wisely and maybe a little influenced by the booing fans, myspecial teams coach decided to bench me for the second half and go with myback-up and best friend to see if luck in the kicking game could change. Hetoo, was also very unproven and had never attempted a kick in the big houseduring a game.
After scoring a touchdown in the third, his first ever extra pointsoared through the center of the uprights, which brought a roar from the crowd thatalmost equaled the sounds you hear as a player when you run out of the tunnelto jump and touch the banner.
The fans were rallying around the new found hope in anotherkicker, and my stock fell lower than what was experienced by the Big 3 a fewyears back.
I was down and out,and if it wasn’t for my powerful leg on kickoffs, my career at Michigan mayhave been short lived, described by a couple of missed kicks, one that mostfans could have out performed.
Well, as the game went on the two missed field goals (6points) started to feel a little more painful as Washington kept the game closeand even took the lead at different points. With several minutes left,Washington scored a touchdown to take the lead, 29 to 28.
At that point, most fans were probablystrategizing their plan to lynch, tar and feather me. Hmmm…should we nab himbefore he goes into the locker room or grab him on his way out.
Fortunately for the fans, John Navarre and Chris Perry wereon fire that day and led the team back down the field with 1:27 remaining onthe clock. With a failed third down attempt, it would come down to a kick from27 yards out.
Nothing more than achip shot for a kicker who had been perfect on extra points. This only being 7yards further, didn’t seem to present many problems.
The kick did not sail wide left, rather, it just missed wideright.
The fans were in uttershock. If there was any reprieve for me after that miss, it was the simple factthat
I was no longer going to haveto fear the headlines in Ann Arbor News kicker lynched….because at this pointmy best friend and one time back up kicker was going down with me.
With little time remaining and no kicker who can make afield goal, the only hope found in that stadium was in the word…hope-less. TheWolverines took the field on defense to grind out the remaining seconds, withthe only thing going for Michigan was the three timeouts they had left. AWashington first down at this point, would end the game, and solidify the kicker(s) lynching.
With a stop on the first play and a quick timeout, there mayhave been some fans who started to walk a little slower as they tried to be the first escape the mass exodus from the Big House; trying to beat traffec on main and state street on their way to I94 or US23.
If there was any hope in moving the ball with no timeouts itdissipated quickly as John Navarre had difficultly finding a receiver. With 9seconds left, some fans started kicking themselves for not leaving earlier.
Washington, wanting to make sure they were perfectlyprepared for any last second heroics called their final timeout to put in justthe right package to ensure a victory over the #10 Wolverines, for the secondyear in a row.
Their package worked perfectly as John Navarre overthreweveryone, including the 12 Washington defenders that were on the field. Withfive ticks remaining on the clock the official picked up a yellow flagsignaling this grave error by Washington, and eventually announcing that 12 Huskies were on the field, one too many...all of this following their timeout, of all things.
The official marched the field a full 15 yards closer to theuprights, the ones that were in throwing distance by half the student body. Thedistance from the uprights was set at 44 yards, left hash. It was still no easy kick, especially by two kickers who still hadn't made a career field goal in three earlier attempts that day.
With not enough time to do eeny-meeny-miney-moe, Coach Carrhad no choice but to call #34 (Phil Brabbs) into the game because he had astronger leg, which gave a slight advantage for him over the guy who justmissed the last kick.
Although the Big House had been witness to many collegefootball games for decades, it had never been home to a game winning lastsecond field goal, oddly enough. There was a shot at it this day, but the oddswere more in favor of a former soccer player randomly picked from the student body making thiskick than anyone sporting a winged helmet from the sidelines.
So at a moments notice, Coach Carr told me to get into thegame and attempt a kick that could redeem both kickers for the day.
I took my steps back and to the left, recited Phil 4:13 as I always would do,motioned to Navarre to take the snap, and then headed toward what would end upbeing my most defining moment as an athlete in the thousands of hours of competition I had totalled...and this play would only last 5 seconds. Talk about pressure.
That kick was up and extended over two Huskies defenders thatwere reaching for the sun, and as I looked up, I saw the ball sailing perfectlythrough the uprights (watch it here). All of a sudden time seemed to stop. I couldn’t hear athing, probably because the stadium feared an inevitable outcome of a fourthmissed field go attempt by the guy who botched two in the first half.
Then, as both refs motioned that the field goal was good, Ientered back into reality, probably when my 6'6" QB and holder started to grab and shake me like a rag doll. The reality that something big hit us both and every fan in that stadium at the exact moment, and I (or my right foot) was part of it. I knew instantly that this wasn’t just my first career fieldgoal, but this was something that was going to be imprinted on MichiganFootball history for years to come, just like the game announcers had commented.
After being pulled from the bottom of a 100+ person pile on at the center of the Big House, which I would have been content with being my final resting place during that moment, I was found smiling and screaming with joy. The picture to the right shows just how charged I was in that moment.
After my rescue from the bottom of the pile, I was instantly swarmed by the press. I recall the media shoving all their microphones towards my face as if I had the solution for world peace on the tip of my tongue and I was about to share it to the whole world. As most of the team returned to the locker room to sing The Victors, which is a great Michigan football tradition, I needed to be rescued. So none other than D-line coach Brady Hoke came to my side to pull me through the barrage of press. To this day both of us have the photo the right on our office desk.
Well years have come, a full decade worth to be exact.
That play was determined to be with ofthe top 20 in the Big House. So yes, it indeed was a very big moment. For me,it gave me hope in the impossible. It taught me that in what can be yourweakest moment, hope can ride you through the dark night and carry you through.That you can go from goat to hero in this world in a moments notice. That youneed to remain positive when surrounded my negativity.
That those closest to you: your teammates,family, friends, will be there when you are in the middle of the improbablefate that looks to lead to know where but devastation.
But in this entire game experience that led to The Kick, Iam now thankful for the misses, because to this day, they are helping guide methrough some of life’s toughest challenges. Yeah, football is just a game andthose were just a couple of kicks, but the emotions I experienced were real andit was on a stage were millions were glued to the outcome.
Let’s raise our glasses to the many misses we have in life,whether missed field goals, snaps that got away from you or an occasionalbotched hold. Those dark moments may just be the predecessor of a really great moment. So hold on, keep the faith, remain hopeful and expect the impossible.
God Bless and Go Blue!!! (10 years later)
-Phil
P.S. #BeatBama
Nine years ago, at age 62, my primary doctory called and said "I have made an appointment for you with an oncologist." Fortunately my myeloma was only smoldering then, with no symptoms. Five years later though, after two therapies had failed to halt the cancer's upward climb, a PET scan revealed lesions (holes) in my bones, Stage I disease. A better treatment was needed. Dr. L suggested the trial, 2 mg pomalidomide (CC-4047) daily, with once-weekly dexamethasone (DEX). After the first four cycles, both IgG and M-spike had dropped by more than half, to levels not seen in years, and they continued downward. The DEX was gradually reduced to zero over a year and a half, and M-spike has been stable at about 1.0 to 1.2 g/dL on pomalidomide alone for three years. PET scans and X-rays suggest that the bone lesions are inactive and have probably been repaired.
Dr. Parameswaran Hari was the guest expert on the panel. Dr. Hari is the Clinical Director of the Adult Bone Marrow Transplant Program and Associate Professor of Medicine, Division of Hematology, and Oncology at the Medical College of Wisconsin. I was very impressed with his detailed answers to a number of questions, including mine about whether smoldering myeloma patients are taking a risk by participating in clinical trials when they are exposed early to novel therapy agents like Revlimid and Velcade.
It was the verse he chose at Michigan Stadium on Aug. 31, 2002, with five seconds remaining and the Wolverines trailing Washington 29–28. Brabbs was a junior at Ann Arbor who took out student loans because he was not on scholarship. Until that day he had never attempted a field goal in college. Early in the first quarter he missed wide left, and late in the second he missed left again—a snap hook that barely rose more than 10 feet off the ground. At halftime Brabbs was booed by the sellout crowd as he jogged into the locker room, where he sat with his head in his hands. Before the third quarter he missed every one of his warmups, all to the left. Coaches benched Brabbs in favor of his best friend, Troy Nienberg.