The Hit MAG

By Unknown, Unknown, Unknown

   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



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