I saw the most amazing football game of my life on Saturday. The funny thing is that I watched the game in such awe that I don’t even remember who played.

I just remember a few details. I’m pretty sure the halftime score was 63-7. And I think the first quarter score was 35-7. I heard something about a few records set as well.

Friday night I was talking to an alumnus of the school (who scored the seven points while giving up 63), and he asked me if I was going to watch the game on Saturday.

I told him I was, but probably only for the first six minutes, until the score was 21-0. I was partially joking, but somehow I managed to underestimate the team’s futility and unpreparedness. It only took four minutes and 51 seconds for the scoreboard to flash 21-0.

I also recall that the game could have and should have been worse. The one team’s third-string put up a good fight in the second half, still outscoring the other team’s starters 14-7 to close the game at 77-14.

I remember one team giving up at half, while both might as well have. One team called off the dogs because the hunt was over. The other team just had dogs who couldn’t hunt.

I vaguely remember the television announcers talking about suiting up, a coach apologizing for his team scoring its ninth touchdown before halftime and the sounds of laughter emanating from various rooms in my apartment building.

I remember a coach (of the team who gave up the 11 touchdowns) saying last week that he was happy to see the game would be televised because it helps national exposure, especially in recruiting.

Hmmm. Hell of a recruiting tool.

Picture this. I’m a great high school football player and I’m laying on the couch watching a major conference’s (so-called) game of the week. The whole time I’m thinking, “I would love to play for a school that scores seven points in a half while only giving up 63. That’s the program for me.”

I am interested in tuning into the coach’s radio show tonight to find out the positives gained from such an amazing game. I’m sure there are some. Probably as many as the number of fans still behind the program, but fewer than the supporters who will show up to the team’s final hurrah on Saturday.

Once again I saw quite a few positives on special teams: only three interference penalties and one punt return for a touchdown this game.

This team is truly “special.” If I were the coach of that particular unit, I wouldn’t be looking to do any remodeling to my house any time soon. I’d be more interested in organizing the Ryder truck parked in my driveway.

And if I coached any other part of (or the whole) team, I would be ready to help. Many hands make light work, and when everyone’s going the same place anyway…

I swore I wasn’t going to do it again, but this was just too much. I did it even though someone pointed out to me once that people actually read this column. Man, am I stupid. People read this? Some people might be offended? I thought journalists did it for the money and the high public opinion rating.

All this time I’ve been thinking, “Wow. I’m a good writer. I’m so glad I can put this down on paper so that I can enjoy it myself.”

Face it. The truth hurts.

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Drew Harris is a senior in journalism and mass communication and political science from Peosta.