Before the pass, football was a battlefield of trenches and brute force. Running attacks dominated, often leaving players mangled and crowds bored. But Robinson, quarterback for Saint Louis University, saw a future painted in the sky. He saw the potential for aerial ballet, for strategy soaring beyond the scrum.

His first attempt, sailing incomplete, was a whisper amidst the rumble, but it carried the weight of change. His second, a 20-yard touchdown to Jack Schneider, echoed across the gridiron like a sonic boom. It was a turning point, a declaration that the air itself could be conquered, that touchdowns could be painted on the canvas of the sky.

The pass faced resistance. Purists cried sacrilege, clinging to the game's ground-bound traditions. But the genie was out of the bottle. The forward pass spread like wildfire, transforming the game into a three-dimensional chess match. Quarterbacks became generals, receivers their agile pawns, and the vertical threat altered defensive landscapes forever.