My feet swim in the lagoon of rainwater in my cleats. The sweat beads on my forehead, rolling down my nose and dripping off the end. I crouch ready to explode off the line. The crowd soars, the ball snaps. I spring forward, instinctively, my eyes turn toward the ball. Flow away, I stay. Here it comes, counter. I lower my shoulder and drive my body through the ball carrier causing him to grunt loudly. As I breathe again, my body lays on top of the running back. I look into his eyes. I see his pain. I feel no sorrow. Bouncing up, I pull a large clump of grass and mud from my face mask. I stand in awe at the body on the ground, fumbling to get up. I love this game! l
This piece has been published in Teen Ink’s monthly print magazine.