The Hick with the kick

The Hick With The Kick

By the time I got to high school, people were calling me “The hick with the kick,” and not just because of where I grew up, Kentucky, but also because I almost never missed when it came to kicking the football over the goalposts. But after what happened to me that day on the field, they started calling me “Jesus Boy,” or if someone was being a wise ass, “Hey-soos.”

The day it happened, we were right in the middle of our pre-season practice when I suddenly found myself feeling slightly lightheaded, so I took a big swig of the green juice. That made things better for about a minute. Then, not only did I feel lightheaded again, but the whole world started spinning.

Plopping down on the grass, I held my head, hoping the spinning would stop soon. That’s when the coach and a couple of the guys came over and asked what was wrong? All I could say was, “I don’t feel right.” And then everything went black.

Two weeks later after I woke up in the hospital, I was told I had been dead for at least twenty minutes. “What do you mean?” I asked the nurse.
She looked at me real serious like and explained, “The day you blacked out, they said you were gone for nearly twenty minutes. You had no heartbeat, and as far as they could tell, no brain activity either. You were effectively dead!”

I knew she was wrong, but didn’t say anything. Instead, I wondered what my parents must have thought when the hospital told them?
And then they came to visit and I asked, “Did they tell you I died?”
Mom, whose eyes seemed really red, like she’d been crying a lot, nodded without saying anything, while dad, who also nodded, said, “They told us.”

That’s when I went on to explain to them what had happened to me. “I know this is going to sound totally crazy, but it’s the truth. That day on the field, after everything went dark, I saw this bright, white light off in the distance. While I stood there wondering what the heck it could be, it seemed to get bigger and bigger until it pushed away all the darkness, and then it kind of melted away too and I found myself standing on an empty football field.”
Both their eyes got big. “A football field!” exclaimed my dad.
“Yep, a football field,” I said, “all shiny and new, like it had never been played on before.”
“Was anything happening?” asked my mom.
“Nothing. It was empty except for me. Looking around, I found myself standing on the fifty yard line with a brand new football on the ground in front of me waiting for me to kick it, which I did. I watched as it sailed like a bird over the goalposts. And then I heard a voice behind me say, ‘Nice kick.’

“When I turned around, I saw a man with a beard and mustache and a pony tail dressed like a referee. He was standing there smiling. When I looked closer, I realized who it must be, but I couldn’t figure out why the heck he was dressed like a referee? “Where are your robes?” I asked him.
“Oh, you mean this?” he said and then instantly, he was dressed in a white robe with his long hair loose and hanging down to his shoulders. I nodded. While continuing to smile, he replied, “I thought you might feel a little more comfortable if I put you in familiar surroundings.” Then suddenly, he was back in his ref uniform.
“And that’s when it hit me. “Am I dead?” I asked him while my stomach twisted like a weathervane in a tornado.
“He continued to smile and shook his head. “No. You’re in between right now.”
“Why?”
“Because I wanted to talk to you for a little bit.”
“About what?”
“About ministering to people.”
“Ministering? Me? Are you kidding?”
“No. I want you to tell everyone all about this,” he said as he made a sweeping gesture with his arm.
I looked at him like he was crazy. “You want me to tell people I met Jesus on a football field and he was dressed like a referee! Are you nuts!?” And then I remembered who I was talking to and I could feel my face turning bright red. “Sorry, I didn’t mean that.”
He smiled and shook his head. “No problem. Remember you’re the hick with the kick. People like you; they respect you. They’ll listen to you.”
“But what would I even say to them?”
“You’ll know what to say when the time comes.”
“How?”
“I’ll feed you the words.”

And that’s what he did.
Even though I got to continue to play football and help my team go on to win the regionals, I got even more success while ministering to the masses. It started with just the members of my church, but soon crowds were coming from all over to hear about my experience meeting Jesus. And he was right. I didn’t have to think about what to say to them; the words just seemed to come to me as if I had known what to say all along.

After high school, I went on to college, where I continued to play football, and then into the pros. My nickname, the hick with the kick, followed me right up the ranks, but I didn’t mind one bit, that’s because I had J. C. as my coaching partner. Together we made one heck of a duo.