After walking hundreds (thousands?) of miles along the sidelines during hundreds of high school football games over three-plus decades, it finally happened.

I got run over.

I feel like the Warner Bros. cartoon character, Foghorn Leghorn, after he looks both ways before crossing the street and still gets flattened.

“Anybody, ah say, anybody get the number of that truck?’’

It was late in the third quarter of Friday night’s (Nov. 16) Division I semifinal game between Phoenix Mountain Pointe and Phoenix Brophy Prep at Tempe McClintock High.

Mountain Pointe had the ball deep in Brophy territory when Pride quarterback Antonio Hinojosa took the snap and took off toward the left sideline and toward me. A Mountain Pointe receiver, I think it was, must have kicked the defensive back out wide and Hinojosa cut underneath.

It wasn’t like I was standing right on the edge of the sideline. I was a couple of yards behind it.

I saw the Mountain Pointe blocker and the defender coming in my direction.

“Oh, they’ll stop,’’ I told myself.

But it quickly became, “Hey, why aren’t they stopping?!’’

It was too late. I couldn’t move to my left and I couldn’t move to my right.

I used to laugh at those fools who couldn’t get out of the way, and now I was going to be one of them.

Crash!!

Fortunately, I was not injured and did not hit my head when I flew backward. I landed on one of those plastic/foam-rubber-type signs touting this very same AIA365.com Web site. I knew they would be good for something. I also am fortunate that I have plenty of natural padding back there.

I got up quickly, hopeful that only a few among thousands in attendance had seen it.

Yeah, right.

After the game, as the teams exchanged handshakes, who should I see but my physician, who also happens to be one of the Mountain Pointe team doctors.

“I thought I was going to need you to come over, because I got run over,’’ I told him.

He winced momentarily and said, “You’ve gotta be careful.’’

Easy for him to say.

The way I figure it, I can cross this off by bucket list and have another 30 or so years to spare before my next sideline encounter.