Last Word

It occurred to me, watching the Penn State play in the Pin Stripe Bowl, that kickers have the last word.  No matter whether you are coming in to hit the late game field goal, or make sure of the extra point after a touchdown, the kicker is usually the last one who really finishes off the score.  

Saturday evening, in overtime, Sam Ficken got his ultimate last word.  He wasn’t supposed to be playing in a bowl game his senior year—for many reasons—and instead he ran through Yankee Stadium-turned football field, one of the most joyous Nittany Lions to be found. 

Two and a half years ago, only two games into unprecedentedly severe sanctions, Penn State had the chance to win a game against UVA. Four times Sam Ficken went up to put up three points.  Four times PSU came away empty.  The game ended with UVA up by one point, and Sam Ficken was practically burned in effigy by the Penn State faithful.  Bill O’Brien—bless him—stood behind Ficken and continued to name his as the kicker.  His career could’ve basically ended there—defined by what would (it seems) be the darkest moment of his football career.  That if he was remembered by anyone, it would be by what he had failed to do. 

But Sam Ficken, like Penn State, didn’t allow the darkest moment to be the last word.  He buckled down, sought advice from others, worked on the mental and physical aspects of his career, and by the last game of the season, had hit ten straight field goals.

But that was not the end of the story.

I was home for Christmas break when Penn State was—almost inexplicably—playing in the post season.  It had only been part of the way through the season that the NCAA in all its infinite and consistent wisdom lifted the last of the sanctions and allowed for post season play should they qualify.  And they did.  By the skin of their teeth.

Saturday evening, watching this, PSU fans knew—we weren’t supposed to be in this game.  Halfway through the third quarter, looking a little like a struggling offense, two touchdowns behind, Penn State wasn’t supposed to win.  Then, it was as though something clicked—they suddenly realized everything that should keep them from winning—and so they decided to win. 

The best moment of the game wasn’t Hackenburg coming through or the amazing catches some of the receivers seemed to pull out of thin air as they ripped them away from the defenders.  The best moment wasn’t even the nerve wracking long-ish field goal Sam had to kick to send it into overtime.  It was actually the drive after Boston College scored a touchdown.  There was intense frustration and disappointment after they scored that OT touchdown, but then, hope creaked in in the form of a sharply hooking point after attempt that landed wide right of the uprights.  There would still have to be a touchdown. But there was also the undeniable thought—Sam can make that extra point. 

The best moment came when he did. 

As the Nittany Lions screamed, ran, and cried for joy, it was evident that BC was devastated.  And I wanted to say to that BC kicker—a team which has struggled in kicking all year—Sam knows where you are.  He has been where you are.  And this is not the last word for you.  At least, it doesn’t have to be. 

That’s the reason I love Sam Ficken’s story.  Because we have all had a UVA moment.  We have all had a moment of thinking “This is not the plan.  This is not how this was supposed to go.  Why is this happening?”  We’ve had that moment of fear that maybe the goal, the dream, what you’ve worked for, isn’t going to ever work out.  Maybe you just aren’t good enough. 

We’ve all had the UVA moment.  And the dream is to have the Pin Stripe Bowl moment as well—to realize that yeah that early moment was absolute shit, but it’s not what defines you.  And that it is in no way the last word.  That your life can go from most hated (by the public) person to the most consistent player in only two years is room that you have to allow.  That only when we have space for radical change can we have a Sam Ficken kind of last word.   (And side note—it would be nice if life continued to have easily segmented portions the way it did in college.  I keep saying ‘last word’ like some parts of life ever really come to a nice neat conclusion.  Life doesn’t.  Which is slightly unfortunate.)

I don’t think that Sam Ficken’s kicker career is a how-to guide to life.  But I can’t get over the fact that his is the perfect story of how possible it is for life to change, for dreams to come true, even after—or sometimes even because—the dream looks dead for a moment.  If you—like me—have had your UVA moment, you need to leave room for the Pin Stripe Bowl—the moment that’s not supposed to happen, but that somehow, inexplicably, it does.