Life’s game had been hard fought.
The first half was all him. He had run up and down the field, scoring at will. By the end of the second quarter, he was sitting on a comfortable lead. He was in control, cruising on his talent alone. But something happened at halftime.
He got complacent.
The third quarter turned into a rout. Instead of sticking to his winning game plan, he began to play it safe and hold onto the ball. First, a few calls went against him. Then the opposition starting taking cheap shots. They got inside his helmet. He fumbled and began to make dumb mental mistakes. Suddenly with five minutes remaining in the third quarter, he fell behind.
He was tired. He was bloody. He was broken.
But he was still in the game.
He hastily revised his game plan and managed to score one more time before the third quarter ran out. Out there on the field, he looked into the stands at all who believed in him. He then swiveled his head and looked at those who didn’t. At that moment, he held up his hand, raising four fingers.
It was the fourth quarter. His quarter.
He ran to the sideline and huddled with his coach. There they developed a new game plan. It was time to go back on the offensive. The first three quarters were history. This was about now. He reached down deep into his heart and re-lit the desire that had gotten him to this game in the first place. He knew that those who played hardest then they were tired won the game. Victory would not just be had by what happened on the field. No, victory would also happen because of what went on inside his helmet.
During the Fourth Quarter. His quarter. His game.
