As a freshman high school soccer player in Mesquite, he was already the varsity equivalent of his fellow Aquarian, Cristiano Ronaldo dos Santos Aveiro. Like Ronaldo, he scored at least one goal in every game he ever played. David Ermenegildo Indolor had become known as “Mr. Futbol” in his youth, playing the forward position and serving as team captain on every team, at every level. Opposing teams would double- and even triple-team him and somehow he still managed to either make an incredible assist to a teammate or break free and score. With his initials “DES” his close friends and teammates would tease him that it was his destiny that he would be a professional soccer player.

While he spent much of his free time following La Liga and his favorite players on the various Spanish clubs, he cherished the memories of those weekends watching the Portugal national team with his avô Antonio above all. David was involved in soccer in every part of his life and he couldn’t see a day without chatting about the game he loved or finding time to practice the dynamic moves like the greats.

The next spring, when he turned fifteen, a great tragedy struck the Indolor family. David’s mother, who thought she was simply having headaches and symptomatology associated with menopause was diagnosed with grade IV astrocytoma. This is the most common and most aggressive cancer that begins within the brain. Within a few short months, in June, Anabela Indolor had passed away. In an angry rage, David swore never to play soccer again.

As a local sports reporter, I had covered some of the stories of David’s early successes in high school and could validate firsthand of the now near mythical status of his “scorchers” with both feet. This terrible medical misfortune with his mother and his pledge not to play was something I thought about profiling but I had gotten distracted in some other work and didn’t get around to it. I thought it was quite admirable but hoped that after a season hiatus, family and friends would convince David to return to the pitch.

He did not return his sophomore year.

His junior year came and went and David was nowhere close to a soccer ball or a field.

Some point in his rising senior summer, I heard his name bandied about that he was contemplating a return but this was simply optimistic rumors from some very uninformed people in the community. The other rumor I heard nearly knocked me out of bed – it was today, literally just a few minutes ago, 9:40 on a Saturday morning in what is now late October.

I had slept in late and I was going to clearly miss an early local high school football team I had wanted to cover. It was then that I just received a text from a soccer referee that also officiated football that said simply stated, “”Mr. Futbol” is now playing football – call me later.” I checked my schedule for his undefeated high school football team and saw that today would be their last game before the playoffs started in their division. I knew I needed to get out of bed and would have to rush to get ready to be there across town.

I fumbled with my keys as I darted out the door to the house and hopped into my truck. The thought of David potential kicking a football and it literally exploding in mid-air made me smile. What were the circumstances that led him to play football? What happened to the team’s senior kicker that had signed early to play at a notable NCAA Division I program? My reporter instincts were on overload with questions as I arrived at the field. I pulled into my usual media parking spot and noticed that the visiting team were taking warm-ups but David’s team was not on the field as of yet. I stopped for a second and thought – did I really just label this undefeated team David’s team already? My heart was beating rapidly and my palms were sweaty – either I was having a heart attack at the ripe old age of 44 or the whole situation had me all worked up.

Instead of climbing to my usual early perch in the press box, I decided to hang out by the entrance to the field where the home team enters down from their locker room. It is a rather steep sloping grade and I have often wondered if the contractors were intoxicated that put down the asphalt there. Helmet after helmet descended onto the field, many of them cordially saying good morning and many giving me a high five – these were good boys and they had worked hard all season to be undefeated. I was able to grab the special teams coach and he blurted, “Yeah, it’s true” as he summarily dismissed me with a smirk and a quick fix to the brim of his cap.

I looked around the field at Memorial Stadium but there was no kicker warming up at all for the home team.

The clock was running down on the pre-game time and the home team made their way back up the hill for their typical grand entrance and senior day announcements. As they filed in one by one, David’s name wasn’t announced. There was some speculation from the people standing near to me of what injury had happened to the current senior kicker but I would hope to have that clarified in the game notes as I got to the press box.

The home team won the toss and deferred to receive in the second half. Where was this kid?

The coolness of the autumn breeze danced between the warmth of the partly sunny rays beaming down. I was now wiping my brow as in my haste I had put on far too many layers. The locker room door was already being held open by a large cobblestone that someone had dug out from the nearby curb. The scene was like something out of a dream sequence in a campy 80s film – it was literally like all time just stopped. David stepped out of the locker room appearing in what was clearly the cleanest uniform in the entire county. He was alone and slowly began to walk what appeared to be towards me but I knew was really the entrance to the field. We locked eyes for a moment and I heard him say through his mouthpiece “Hey Scoop, thanks for coming out this morning.”

My eyes could not believe what I was seeing, my ears heard what David had said but it was like everything was happening in slow motion. I’ve heard plenty of professional, college and high school athletes talk about how the game slows down but I had never heard or experienced it in journalism.

David was already past me and stepping towards the field as I parsed together some words and mumbled across some combination of “good morning” and “good luck”. I turned towards the press box but decided it may be best to experience this at ground level so I made my way behind the home team’s bench.

Without a single warm-up, David trotted towards the middle of the field and in a very business-like fashion gracefully adjust the football for the kickoff. With the speed of his mythical soccer scorchers but with the precision of a surgeon, he placed the opening kickoff at the one yard line where it appeared to be shot dead out of the sky and land in bounds. The opposing team’s kickoff returner fell on top of the ball like a small child making a belly flop into a pool. After a small pile on, the visiting team started to bring their offense onto the field in the end zone and David walked off the field as if he had done this a thousand times before.

I made notes about the thoughts I was feeling and little non-game details I was observing. This would be a very different football story today. This was well beyond passing and rushing yards and scores. David sat on the bench for the half, looking as unimpressed as the rest of us at what was transpiring on the field. The first half was uneventful as the teams battled between the forty yard lines and neither coach was moved to have their kickers attempt a field goal from that distance. They trotted into their respective locker rooms at halftime with no points being recorded for either side.

As the teams departed the field, I saw my good friend Ron who was officiating, walking off. I stopped to ask him for some details. He said he had just a second to chat – “Eddie, the senior kicker, was doing some parkour moves at practice on Thursday and broke his ankle. That’s all I know. Not a smart move for this kid.” He didn’t mention how David emerged into this situation and I grew even more curious as how to all these events had unfolded so quickly.

The halftime evaporated and the teams were back on the turf with the home team now receiving. As David continued to sit on the bench, I wondered how a kid who wasn’t on the roster all season was eligible to play in their final game. I was able to chat with the defense line coach while the offense was on the field and he shared that, “David has been on the roster all season. He came out for summer practice and made the team but he didn’t want to bump Eddie off in his senior season so he hasn’t been with us. We need him now though with Eddie’s accident.” Talk about a good friend and a team player!

The game clock appeared to be moving expeditiously as each minute whisked by these evenly matched gridiron combatants. The punters at this point must have been exhausted as they were on the field as much as the regulars it seemed. The seconds went down to zero and we were headed for overtime.

The visiting team won the coin flip and chose to start on offense. The rules here are all about a balanced approach in high school football. This isn’t a sudden death situation as each team plays both offense and defense. It is at that point that the possession is over. After one possession, the teams were still all tied up with donuts on the board. The visiting team quickly finished up their next four downs in the second possession and unceremoniously marched back off the field. The blue boys of fall headed to their opponents 25-yard line to begin their next set of downs in this possession. They fumble and quickly recover on their first down. For their second down, the home team makes a breakaway running play that brings them all the way to midfield.

Building on some momentum, it is first and ten once again and after faking a passing block, the Tight End pushes off his back foot and then takes a couple steps forward. He heads out on a drag route, going about 4-5 yards past the line of scrimmage, then cuts inside to run parallel to the line of scrimmage. He receives the ball around the 46 yard line and with the secondary covering some deep routes from the receivers, he turns to head up the field where he’s tackled around the 34 yard line. The crowd responds with absolute frenzy. After three failed running attempts to move the ball closer to the goal, it is fourth and ten from the 34 yard line and decision time for the head coach. Do you go for it from here or head into yet a third possession?

At this point, I’m happy I just have to write about these scenarios as the crowd begins to cheer, “Go, go, go…” I reminisce back to my childhood and my mother reading me “The Little Engine That Could” and their repetitive chants of “go” begin to rhythmically sound like its motto: “I-think-I-can” to me. As I’m having flashbacks down next to the field, the coach calls a timeout and huddles with his team. The crowd begins to elevate their cheers and I could only imagine the echo effect occurring within the ear holes of the players’ helmets.

In the huddle, the coach immediately taps his quarterback on the helmet and he runs off the field. He heads in the direction of the bench and takes a quick knee in front of David. David, wearing Ronaldo’s famous number 7 on his jersey grabs his helmet and returns to the field for the first time since the kickoff. He keeps stride with the QB as they head back into the huddle. The coach and one of his receivers now head to the sidelines and the offense sets up for what is surely going to be a long field goal – the first ever FG attempt by David.

As if scripted in a storybook, the crowd goes completely silent. David’s father was the lone voice that rises above the solitude, “Você pode fazê-lo!” he shouts out to his son “You can do it” in Portuguese.

The center snaps the ball.

The QB acting as the holder receives it, places it down and David connects with the ball sending it clear through the field goal post into the parking lot and crashing through the windshield of the opposing team’s bus. If there was a radar gun on the kick it would have measured in excess of 80 miles per hour easily.

For a moment the solitude remains as if the entire crowd was frozen in what they just witnessed.

The boys in blue storm the field along with their parents and families – they won. They had maintained their unblemished record in spite of losing their star kicker. While I wasn’t interested in reporting the stats on this from the beginning of this game, I did have a burning question that I needed answered.

The team and the crowd begins to chant “Mr. Football” and indeed “Mr. Futbol” had a bit of a name change that moment. I made my way through the crowd and reached David in the end zone where he was with his Dad and his head coach. With one of the most genuine and sincere expressions, David turns to me and says, “Hey Scoop, thanks again for coming to see me play.” I get a bit choked up thinking about this kid and all that he has just gone through and all that he went through losing his mother just a couple of years back. I reply, “David, what gave you the confidence to come back to the field?” It was almost as if he expected me to ask this exact question. He smiled innocently at me, looked around as if completely detached by the event that had just unfolded around him and the celebrations that were happening, and shared “It isn’t soccer, Scoop, and the team really needed me. My Mom would have thought I could, and just like that story about that little engine, I thought I could.”

That’s clearly all the confidence he need – he thought he could.