The Georgia Peach
Redd Herring
As my very best friend, Buck, and I were watching college football one Saturday, cheering for
those boys in maroon, we witnessed something that every football fan has endured – the trick
play gone wrong. It always seems to happen when the team is moving the ball along at a good
clip, and then for some unknown reason, the coach calls the ol’ razzle dazzle. Buck looked over
at me with a smirk, “Georgia Peach!”
The memory causing Buck’s grin was a time back in high school when the junior varsity coach
found out that yours truly was left-handed. I don’t know what it is about southpaws, but every
coach in recorded history has gone plumb crazy anytime there is a lefty on the squad. They stay
up night after night dreaming up diabolical schemes built around these freaks of nature, and our
play caller was no different.
One afternoon at practice, an errant kick sailed wide and thumped me right on the leg. I picked
the ball up, threw it back to the long snapper, then returned to the water station, which is where I
spent the majority of my time.
Suddenly, there was a commotion. “Did you see that?” the offensive coordinator ran across the
field at a full sprint and pointed at me. “Him! Did you see that, Coach?” By now, he had a grip
on my shoulder pads, turning me in all directions and showing me off like a prize pig at the fair.
“He’s a lefty!”
The next day in an offense-only meeting, the coach unveiled The Georgia Peach. He beamed
with pride as he drew it up on the board. What he had in mind was for me to line up in the slot on the right, then I would go left for a reverse and throw a pass to the tight end on a drag route.
“But, Coach,” I raised my hand, “I’m a linebacker.”
“Exactly!” He clapped excitedly. “They’ll think you’re a blocker! They’ll never know what hit
‘Em!”
We charged out of the locker room ready to unleash our new, never-before-seen, completely
unstoppable play. I brought up the rear, since my huge 1980’s linebacker shoulder pads forced
me to turn sideways to get through the door.
The first time we tried it was against the varsity defense. I got the ball and ran hard left, my giant
shoulder pads flapping wildly. Pulling up near the sideline, I threw a beautiful spiral - right to the
Linebacker.
“Don’t worry,” Coach told me. “That’s varsity. You keep throwing it like that, and we’ll figure it out.”
And throw it like that I did. Over four days of practice, we ran that play nine times, and I tossed
nine interceptions. I threw it to cornerbacks, safeties, linebackers, and even the nose tackle. I
threw it versus the varsity, the junior varsity, and once against the freshmen team. The only squad that had not picked off one of my passes was the cheer squad.
In our first regular-season contest, we went with The Georgia Peach twice, both yielding
interceptions. The next game, we tried it on the opening play to “get the jump” on our opponent,
and they jumped on it for a touchdown. After a few weeks, pretty much every coach in a fourcounty radius knew what was happening when number fifty-five came in. Even the name of our secret play had leaked out.
Once, when I was running out to the huddle, the defense started yelling “Georgia Peach! Shift!”
as they all pointed to the area where, twenty seconds later, I would toss another gift to the enemy. One team’s cheerleaders even painted a sign with a drawing of me throwing a peach to the
Defense.
In our last game of the season, as I trotted out with the offense, the entire stadium erupted in a
chorus of booing that shook the place like thunder – and we were the home team! In the huddle,
our quarterback motioned for everyone to lean in close. “OK, we’re changing the recipe and
serving up a little peach cobbler.” Everyone started getting excited and pumping their fists.
As we broke the huddle I asked Buck, “What’s going on? What do I do?” He just mouthed what
looked like SORRY and said to line up like always - me in slot right, Buck at right tackle, and the tight end between us. When the ball was snapped, I turned left toward the QB and then
everything went pitch black. I heard a huge roar, followed by a whistle and an even bigger roar.
My next memory was lying on the training table with my dad, Bigg Redd, standing over me.
“What a play son!” he smiled bigger than I thought possible. “Buck pulled to block for you on
the reverse, but y’all smacked right into each other and ended up in a pile. Good thing that tight
end realized what happened and veered out wide right. Not a defender in sight!”
Buck snapped me back from my reminiscing with a loud whoop as the good guys in maroon
scored. He was grinning from ear to ear, because he knew what I was thinking about. I just shook my head and let him have his fun, because pretty soon I’ll be telling y’all the real peach cobbler
story!
Until next time…
Redd
reddherring.com
reddherring.author@gmail.com