No Drops

The best day of my football career came on a day no one saw.

…except my teammates and coaches. And they probably don’t remember it — or have any idea it was a day for the ages in my book.

Summer 2007 in Ukiah, California.

I was attending the summer session at Mendocino College and going through the summer football program.

Five days a week for four weeks we followed the same routine:

Lift for an hour.

Run for an hour.

Two hours of on-field work.

7:00 AM to 11:00 AM.

Some of it was 11-on-11.

Some 7-on-7.

Some drills against air.

We were two weeks into the grind. I had spent the entire spring working out and preparing for my opportunity.

Being back on the field — after I thought I was done playing football — felt like a privilege. I was locked in and working to establish myself on a good team.

The day started like any other.

Warm-ups.

Conditioning.

Lifting.

Then position groups on the field.

Receivers against air.

Catch. Catch. Catch.

Then 7-on-7.

Catch. Catch.

As a slot receiver, most of my routes were short and intermediate — three to twelve yards.

I’ve always described myself as a receiver like this:

Not the home-run hitter.

But if you needed 3–5 yards and a first down, I was your guy.

That was most of the work that day.

Then came the wheel route.

Our outside linebacker from Camilla, Georgia lined up across from me one-on-one. Good athlete. He even rotated in at running back in our short-yardage packages.

Quarterback calls the cadence.

“ set hut.”

I ran my usual three-yard out route, turned toward the quarterback… then pivoted and accelerated up field.

The linebacker stayed with me stride for stride.

The ball went up.

I saw it arching through the air.

I got underneath it just as we both dove for the catch.

The ball dropped perfectly — just outside the linebacker’s attempt to knock it away — and into my outstretched hands about 25 yards downfield.

Big contested catch.

I rolled onto my feet holding the ball in the air with one hand, signaling “catch.”

A few more routes. A few more catches.

Then it hit me.

I hadn’t dropped a single pass.

The final route of the day was an out route to the left.

The quarterback threw it a little wide.

I reached out with my right hand and snagged it one-handed before turning up field.

Practice ended.

Later that day one of my teammates — a cornerback from Miami, FL — said to another teammate in our apartment:

“You see him at practice today?”

“Yeah… he was moving today.”

And that was it.

No headlines.

No highlight film.

No record books.

But as the dust settled, I realized something.

I had achieved something I had never done before — and never did again.

I caught 100% of the balls thrown my way.

There were plenty of drops in my career.

But not that day.

Forgettable for everyone else.

Unforgettable for me.

And that’s life.

Most of it happens inside your own head and in the process.

That’s why you have to learn to appreciate the work — even when no one else sees it.

I’ll admit it: I miss practice.

I miss the grind of getting your body and mind synced.

Putting on the stinky pads and old practice gear.

Then going out and executing.

That mentality stayed with me.

It started on the field.

And it’s something I carry into everything I do now.

You become who you are in the reps no one sees.

Keep Building

Alex de Golia