The bells clanged seven times Tuesday night, signalling that the moment of truth had arrived for Gary Higbie, retired golf-course superintendent who still dabbles in growing grass as part of the Lawrence Country Club grounds crew.

Watching a punt, pass and kick competition at halftime of a football game “three or four years ago,” Higbie had made an innocent remark about how “pathetic” it was that a contestant’s throw traveled just 20 yards and boasted: “I can throw it 40 yards.”

Well, one witness to that remark told a friend, who told another of their friends, and pretty soon it had reached the ears of Robbie Vannaman. Every group of friends has a Robbie Vannaman. He’s the friend who forever has the needle at the ready and never stops using it, via email, text, the spoken word, whatever means possible.

Told to prove it one too many times, Higbie headed out to the Lawrence High football field Tuesday, and he and friends claimed the northeast corner of the field, so that a wayward throw wouldn’t hurt any of the practicing Lions band members.

Vannaman, wearing a court jester’s hat with Green Bay Packers colors, played the role of receiver. His wife, Madi Vannaman, dressed in a referee’s jersey, served as judge and jury as to whether each pass traveled 40 yards. Bill Schinstock acted as center and did a fine job at that, firing one accurate snap after another.

Higbie’s gal pal, Diane McAllister, and other friends cheered from the sidelines.

The rules allowed for Higbie to attempt as many throws as he wanted, which meant until his arm grew too sore to continue.

Warming up, Higbie, 65, had launched one 35 yards, a nice confidence boost for him and the beginning of a shift among many, including Rick Heere, father of former Lions quarterback Brian Heere. They went from doubting Higbie to doubting their original predictions. I was a doubting Thomas even after the throw that fell five yards short.

Imagine what was at stake for Higbie, who had downed two beers during the loosening-up process.

If he hit the 40-yard target, he would forever be known as the George Blanda of Lawrence. The late Blanda, for the uninformed, won games in dramatic fashion in five consecutive weeks for the 1970 Oakland Raiders, mixing game-winning field goals and touchdown passes at the age of 43.

If Higbie failed, he would join the ranks of cinematic loser Uncle Rico of “Napolean Dynamite” fame. (Except for the hair. Higbie’s white, wavy locks are authentic. Uncle Rico wore some variation of road kill on his head in the form of a bargain toupee.)

“How much you wanna make a bet I can throw a football over them mountains?” Uncle Rico boasted. To say that Uncle Rico short-armed his throws would be an insult to every short-arming thrower in the history of mankind. He was awful.

The line between hero and bum in sports can be that thin. Sometimes, there is no middle ground.

After three tosses that traveled 35 or fewer yards, Higbie put his lower body into one, just as his nephew Brian Heere had advised, and the buzz from the crowd built. It fell a yard short. But unlike Seattle Seahawks running back Marshawn Lynch in the Super Bowl, Higbie was calling the plays and would get more attempts. Could he do it? Was he just warming up, or would the near miss take too much out of him physically, emotionally, psychologically? Tough call at that point.

After several more throws, Higbie took a break and declared it halftime.

Upon resuming, none of his tries matched that fourth, the near miss that, I feared at that point, would haunt him for the rest of his days on God’s green earth and man’s artificial turf.

Then, just as the crowd grew restless, Higbie launched a high-and-mighty beauty. Robbie Vannaman caught it. Madi Vannaman’s arms went up, signalling he had surpassed the 40-yard mark.

Bedlam.

The Dustin Johnson-like pressure Higbie had been carrying was swallowed up by a smile of victory. The old Wellsville High two-way lineman had nailed his 15th throw of fame, and nobody will ever be able to take that away from him.

Just as important, a group of friends had rightly calculated that finding an excuse to get together for a good time on a hot summer night beat watching TV in the comfort of air conditioning. Higbie threw a football he said he had purchased at Target for $9.99 slightly more than 40 yards in the air, and they all threw another log on the fire of good times that with seasoning will become good memories. They proved that children on hiatus from school don’t have a monopoly on summer fun.