I Used Math To Make the Highschool Football Team

The title probably has you thinking about the movie Moneyball. Or maybe you thought about the girl who used math to win a figure skating competition. She was so smart, she could calculate trajectories and figure out the best angles and timing or something.

I assure you, this is quite unlike that story. I’m not that kind of smart. This is the story of how I used my basic understanding of a single mathematical formula to make the highschool football team. In short, I knew a single fact that escaped the other players.

That fact is the formula for kinetic energy, pictured below.

There are actually a bunch of different formulas for kinetic energy, but this is the one for rigid, non-rotating bodies. Humans are usually rigid non-rotating bodies… even when they’re playing football.

To put that formula into words, kinetic energy (Ek) is equal to HALF (0.5) of a body’s mass (m) multiplied by THE SQUARE of its speed (v2).

In case you forgot even more from math class than me, a number’s square is the product of a number multiplied by itself.

In other words… you know what? I’ll finish explaining later on.

Let Me Set the Stage

I switched to a new highschool for my final year. I was obsessed with the performing arts, and the school I switched to had a much better theatre program than my previous school. But I’ve always been something of a jack-of-all trades. At my previous school I had run cross country and played soccer.

My new school didn’t have a boys’ soccer team, and I didn’t really like running cross country. What they did have was one of the best football teams in the area.

I had never played football before - at least, not beyond a game of pickup at recess. I didn’t really know the rules, or even what the different positions were called. But when I arrived at the school I got labelled as a “drama nerd” because of my passion for theatre. The fact that I was skinny and wore glasses probably didn’t help.

But I took that as a personal challenge. I decided that I would earn myself a spot on their prestigious football team.

The Education Began

I already knew how kinetic energy worked at that point. I think I learned about it from one of Lee Child’s Jack Reacher books, where the title character talks about different sized bullets moving at different speeds. But I didn’t really know a damn thing about football.

As it happened, my music teacher was a big fan of football. He had played in highschool, and his son (who graduated the previous year) was an excellent player as well. I went to his classroom at lunch one day and explained my problem.

“I want to make the football team, but I don’t even know what the different positions are called. Which one would be easiest for me?”

He laughed, not at me, but at the question.

“Well,” he mused, “do you mind hitting people?”

I shook my head. I’d always liked martial arts. I liked hitting people.

“You should be a cornerback, then,” he decided.

He explained that a cornerback is a defensive position responsible for disrupting the opposing team’s receivers. Receivers are typically some of the smallest and fastest players on the field. That sounded good to me; I was small and fast, too. But as a cornerback I wouldn’t need to worry about catching the ball, which can be difficult. All I really had to do was stop my opponents from getting the ball. Or I could wait until they got it, and hit them.

This is where my understanding of kinetic energy became important. Remember; kinetic energy is equal to HALF of a body’s mass multiplied by THE SQUARE of its speed. I’m sure I’m getting this at least a little wrong, but the way I understand it, that means speed is often more important than size when you try to tackle someone.

My First Football Tryout

I felt surprisingly confident walking out to the football field in my cleats and pads, despite the fact that some girls I knew pointed and laughed at me. I’m not joking. After all, what’s a drama nerd doing in football gear? Silly thespian.

Once we hit the field and went through a few warmups, I wasn’t feeling so confident. I was easily the lightest kid on the field, one of the shortest, and probably the worst athlete. There was a reason that the team was one of the best in our district.

But I made it through the exercises, and we moved on to the first hitting drill. The defense and offense lined up in two opposing groups next to a gauntlet formed by pylons. The goal of the drill was simple; the offensive player tried to carry the ball through the gauntlet, and the defensive player tried to tackle them.

The kid I lined up against was bigger than me, but not by much. When our turn came, the coach blew the whistle and we raced toward each other. The guy didn’t seem to have much respect for me; he was planning to run through me rather than around.

I got a decent angle on him and turned on my jets, drawing on years of sprinting around the soccer field. I focused on two things; moving my feet faster than his, and sticking to him once we collided.

I barely felt the impact of my shoulder pads against his midsection. The tackle didn’t topple him immediately, but I managed to grab a hold of him and used my momentum to carry us both to the ground.

Score one for the drama nerd.

The tryouts lasted a week, and we did a variety of hitting drills and scrimmage/game scenarios. Every time I needed to hit someone, I focused on the same two things. Faster feet, sticky hands. Faster feet, sticky hands. Faster feet, sticky hands.

I never missed a hit in five days of tryouts, and when the lineup got posted a week later, I was listed as a cornerback.

The Aftermath

Ironically, successfully trying out for the school football team made me realize I didn’t want to play football. It’s a fun sport, but I didn’t get along with most of the guys and it took up way too much of my time. Time which I felt would be better spent singing songs and reciting Shakespeare. But I’ll never forget that I used a simple mathematical fact to make the highschool football team.