Chubby out of bounds at the one yard line to win the game

The following was written during the 2020 NFL Season:

The very idea of being a writer, as far as I see it, is that you see things, question things and often make much more of something than anyone else would want to. That’s what sports writers often do. It’s actually easier to do that, to wax lyrical about a game or a particular play, than to write a descriptive report of what actually happened. Here’s a report of what happened in the final moments of the Cleveland Browns Week ten 10-7 win against the Houston Texans

In possession at their own 40 yards line the Browns needed three yards on third and three to ice the game. They ran the ball with Nick Chubb. He broke down the left side line and kept going, untouched for about the last thirty yards. But when he got to the goal line he slowed down and trotted out of bounds at the one yard line. He got the first down they needed to run out the clock. They didn’t need to score. The next two plays were kneel downs to end the game.

At the time I was busy listing all the ways this was brilliant. Much of the press would focus on how if you were a betting man this would be a real downer. One last touchdown would have covered the point spread. People lost money on that play. I always love the clever ways that Football can surprise me. I’ve been told recently that some of the shenanigans that go on are likely drawn up by a team’s legal department, who have spotted a loophole in a rule. It was even suggested that “That’s not sport.” But it is to me. Football is a mix of brawn, brains, strategy and individual brilliance. There are acceptable ways to bend some rules. Much of sport is deception. Football doubly so and some of the trickery that goes on is borderline cheating. But we all understand what is acceptable. Pass interference on a receiver who would score if not for the Cornerback illegally grabbing them is smart play and even the Receiver knows it. In contrast, something as cynical as a professional foul in regular football is seen as almost insidious or devious. Some might shout from the stands that it is disgusting.

Chubb running out of bounds at the one yard line is one of those strategic moves that needs to happen every once in a while. It’s hard to stop yourself scoring when your instinct is to score and keep scoring. In week seven Atlanta’s Todd Gurley had failed to stop himself from scoring and in doing so gave the ball back to the Lions with enough time left for last minute Matt Stafford heroics.

Here’s where it becomes all about me. Me the writer. Me the overthinker. The Me that can’t see anything as simple as a man running out of bounds to win the game as wholly one dimensional. Everything’s got layers if you’re me. I thought of all the attributes you would need to possess to do what Nick Chubb did there.

It was a smart move but the first thing that comes to mind is how unselfish it was. There’s a man thinking about the team and fighting his natural urge to score. Sure, if he scores they probably win anyway but this way you make sure. It showed great awareness of the situation and the ability to be cool and calm when it matters. Can I add “quick thinking” to the list? It must be hard when caught in the rush of the game to get your shit together enough to be able to make that split second decision at the one yard line. Classy? Sure. He did it with class. He just won the game for his team and he didn’t show boat. He didn’t taunt anyone or high step his way off the field. There was something dignified about the way he did it. It would have looked clumsy and awkward to fall down just before the goal line. Not to mention he might have accidentally scored or even fumbled. Sensible. Let’s put that on the list too. It was stylish to duck out of bounds like it’s no big deal, that it’s just the thing to do.  Is that what happened? Or is all of the above in my own head? Is all the above more about what I wanted it to be? Like all art, it is open to interpretation.  I read somewhere that Nick Chubb had been told not to score and he only remembered at the ten yard line. He said, if he’d thought about it he’d have gone down earlier in bounds. That’s what happened.

You would go crazy if you thought like that on every play. Sometimes a play is just a play. Odell Beckham Jr’s famous one handed catch needs little said about it. It’s a work of art. There is joy in seeing it from all the different angles and there can be many poetic musings in describing the physical action of making that catch. NFL Films could probably put together hours of footage of players and commentators talking about Lyn Swann’s improbable side line catch in Superbowl ten. And people will talk about it as though it were ballet, art, grace and beauty. What does anyone see? Just a catch? Just a run that ends at the one yard line that enables your team to wrap up the game?  

I have a bizarre scene in my head of being at that game, alongside excited Browns fans and as they celebrate the win instead of jumping up and down with them I ask, “What was that? What was it to you? What is anything?” At which point the stadium empties out as Browns fans nervously think I’m a nutter and shuffle away from me. Someone somewhere wants to boil this down to “Everything is subjective.” That subjectivity often only exists through your understanding of what you’re seeing. I like the idea of “the more you understand something the more amazing it can seem.” If you don’t know what you’re looking at then it becomes meaningless. One person watches Nick Chubb run out of bounds to win the game and sees nothing extraordinary. They might not even see what was so great about the play. They may not have a clue what is going on. Someone else may look at an ultrasound image of a baby in a womb and see only shapes of dark and light.  Somewhere else a philosophy student asks, “How do I know that what you think is blue is the same as what I think is blue?”

Do we choose what we see? I have chosen to understand the game of American football as well as I have for many years and I know what I see and what’s so good about any given play.  I’ve never even thought until a moment ago that my recognition of a good play needs the disclaimer of “in my opinion.”  It’s recognition and not judgment. That’s how I see it. I take it for granted that I know what a good play looks like. I don’t know what a good wine tastes like and would never pretend to. And it doesn’t all come down to subjectivity. Some wines must be better than others, even if they aren’t to me. I’d just drink it and go “Hhhhhmmm, Red.” I have no idea how you train your brain to know what tastes like a really good expensive wine and what tastes like something you’d buy in a cheap off-licence.  Perhaps there is an idea of what something is and an idea of what that same thing is to any individual. 

It would be bonkers to say that anything is what you want it to be. But you can definitely say that you can choose what you see in any one thing. Art and artistry, whether on the wall of a gallery or performed on a football field, has the chance to be so much more if you want it to be. The possibilities of what something could be are numerous.  It’s the elements of the object, action, or performance that you can’t ignore that shapes what you see. Whether or not you choose to ignore all the possibilities of what any one thing is will shape your world. And I would have to admit that it might just be possible that in week ten of the 2020 NFL season in the Cleveland Browns 10-7 win against the Houston Texans the game was won in no small part to Running back Nick Chubb remembering not to score, so as to let time expire. I don’t know anyone who could