When I was thirteen, I was still playing Peewee Football for the Elmhurst Eagles. At the same size I am today (yes, I was the exact same size and weight in 8th grade as I am now), I was probably the biggest defensive end this goofy league had ever seen. As such, two things occurred: I was always clad in the older, beat up loose jerseys, since the only ones that fit me were made for much fatter linemen, and secondly I had a pretty good reputation for getting to the Quarterback on sacks. On one particular Saturday morning, playing against the team from Robbins, I was having a good game (two sacks already). On one play in the third quarter, I blew by the linemen and had a free look at the QB who was dropping back to pass. With his arm out, I took a swipe at the ball, attempting to cause a fumble. Um, I failed, but in typical Tim Geigner fashion, I failed spectacularly. My momentum caused me to tip forward, fall over, and do the most uncoordinated somersault of all time. As chance would have it, my upturned legs manage to do what my arm couldn't and kicked the ball loose, which bonked off of my helmet and landed in front of me. I promptly dove on the football, adding a fumble recovery to my stats, and marched off the field victorious.