Anticipation of a new season builds,

A fresh start.

Fighting for one of eleven spots on the field.

Coach pats my shoulder in the crowded hallways of the highschool,

We need you kid.

Excitement bubbles within the chest,

years of past disappointment dissolve.

Words of encouragement and praise of the ongoing improvement 

keep the muscles moving.

Harder the legs work at the long conditionings and practices,

Refuse to give up.

Must defy the odds.

Constantly running,

If you stop

It's all over.

Game day,

Eyes sparkling with burning desire.

Be ready we are going to need you,

Another pat on the shoulder.

I am ready.

Ninety minutes,

five thousand and four hundred seconds tick away.

Players running back and forth,

complaining of tired legs.

I am ready.

Final whistle is called,

Heart finally sinks.

Tears threathen to spill over,

A sense of envy sparks as sweat soaked players jog off.

Tugging at the bone dry jersey upon the chest,

My coach is a liar.

Final speech arrives,

speaks of a good game.

That we fought hard,

Cannot relate.

Thoughts of running up the bleachers

and out of the stadium to scream sound off within the head.

Shamefully walk the steps back to my parents.

Clad in blue for pride of the school,

One look and they already know.

Straight to the car,

I am a benchwarmer.