I wish I could describe it

"You won't believe what just happened. I was standing out there, getting ready to stride toward the ball, when a strange feeling came over me. I was looking right at the football. It was up on the tee. I was standing ten yards away, looking right at it, waiting for the whistle so I could make my approach, and that's when I got this strange insight. I wish I could describe it, Gary, but it was too wild, too unbelievable. It was too everything, man. Nobody would understand what I meant if I tried to describe it." "Describe it," I said. "I sensed knowledge in the football. I sensed a strange power and restfulness. The football possessed awareness. The football knew what was happening. It knew. I'm sure of it." "Are you serious, Bing?" "The football knew that this is a football game. It knew that it was the center of the game. It was aware of its own footballness." "But was it aware of its own awareness? That's the ultimate test, you know." "Go ahead, Gary, play around. I knew you wouldn't understand. It was too unreal. It was uneverything, man." "You went ahead and kicked the ball." "Naturally," he said. "That's the essence of the word. It's a football, isn't it? It is a foot ball. My foot sought union with the ball." We watched Bobby Hopper get about eighteen on a sweep. When the play ended a defensive tackle named Dickie Kidd remained on his knees. He managed to take his helmet off and then fell forward, his face hitting the midfield stripe. Two players dragged him off and Raymond Toon went running in to replace him. The next play fell apart when Hobbs fumbled the snap. Creed spoke to him through the bullhorn. Bing walked along the bench to look at Dickie Kidd.