You did not know a lick of football.

You were never interested, you never cared. It just wasn't your cup of you, but your friend, Troy was a fanatic, apparently so good back in his highschool days. And now you stand on the field of Greendale's less then pleasing football field, tall grass tickled your thighs and the buzz and shouts of the fellow players off in the distance as you stared at Troy of the other side of the field waiting for you to kick it. You think, throw it? You weren't actually paying attention but now in your hands you flimsily hold the leather ball. It was worn and picked at by other people, and was that a bite mark..? You weren't too surprised.