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Ahh Football Season...


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This is that time of year, oh that magical time of year. Summer romance turns into Fall love. The trees glisten with the morning dew on crisp autumn leaves. All is quiet in the Saturday morning, the mist on the field curls in the gentle breeze. But out of nowhere comes the sound of whistles, of the crack of colliding plastic and metal, of the tired grunts of those rushing to make it through suicides. This is our time. This is football season.

Practice is grueling; it drives every man to his limit. But there is no need for water here; water makes you weak. The Line endlessly toils in their blocking routines; the backs take hit after hit after hit. Some get tired, but no man is left behind, the team is only as good as its weakest player. So on the preparations go. This is our time. This is football season.

The click click click of the film projector fills the halls in between two-a-days. Students of the game watch closely, not missing a beat. Each play is analyzed with the strictest of scrutiny, no detail is missed. Everyone is absorbed by the most boring of all tasks, but no one dares look away should they miss what they were all looking for. This is our time. This is football season.

And so the Friday night lights crack on one by one, as if it were a picture perfect moment from the greatest of movies. People are arriving early, everyone finds their seat. Everyone is joined in song, a song of praise to our glorious past, a song of National pride. And then, the kick. This is our time. This is football season.

The glory of victory is on everyone’s lips around town, and everyone reminisces of the great win well into Saturday as they gather around the TV to watch their favorite Colleges fight the same fight. it is a social occasion, with good company and a great feast. On into Sunday as the Redskins take the field for their home opener. Every store in town is closed for the Sabbath, but also for the game. This is our time. This is football season.

It was not to last. "So you think you're good do you? Well I say you're not until you've made it to the top." victory is erased from their minds; there was a new opponent to focus on. The practice wears on. Each mans sweat is trickling down in the cool autumn breeze. It brings enormous comfort. And so the cycle goes on. This is our time. This is football season.

And so the day came when their cross-town rivals came into their house, their house, to take away their chance at glory! For whoever won this game would go on to the state playoffs. The loser would not. The stakes were high, the tension was in the cold wind of November, and it could have been cut with a knife. The home team started their stretches. Then they all turned as they heard the boos erupt from the crowd. This is our time. This is football season.

The kickoff was a battle in itself; each player doing all that he could to gain that last extra yard; to push them back to their own end zone. As the home team came out onto the field to start their first drive the cheers from the crowd were overwhelming. No one knew that a crowd from a small town could be so audible. Then a hush. a hut-hut. A three step drop and then...

No one could believe it! Touchdown! On the first play as the Wingback took it to the house. There are no celebrations as the player hands the football to the official and gets a round of high-fives from his teammates. Their rivals sat there stunned. Maybe this wouldn’t be the game they all thought it would be. But how they were all wrong.

Defensive stop after grueling defensive stop. The few rare scores came on field goals and a solitary fumble recovery for six. The score was tied 16-16 in the 4th quarter. The hated rivals were slowly marching up the field, eating the clock as the fatigued defense struggled to keep up. The 45 yard line. The 50, down to the home 45. then to the 30. It seemed like the game would end in defeat. Time-out, the final one for the hometown heroes.

"Dig deep within yourselves boys, we need a stop here, its 3rd and 2. I'm positive that if we stop them they'll try and kick for the game winning field goal." The defense huddled and prepared for the next snap, one that could determine their entire season. Handoff, no play fake! The QB dropped, almost as if he was in slow-motion, with time suspended for an instant. The ball let loose...

Incomplete! The crowd roared with their approval as the field goal unit came on. Routine play, they miss, run out the clock, overtime. Simple. The kick never happened. As the ball was snapped, the kicker ran out and away from the ball! It’s a fake! The defensive end didn't even register what had happened, all he knew was that this guy in front of him was blocking his way to the ball...those extra suicides paid off. He broke free from his block and sacked the place holder! 'FUMBLE!" coach shouted from the sideline.

Everyone scrambled to get it. The defensive end didn't think, he just reacted. As he scooped up the ball and began to run the crowd went wild with frenzied joy. "He’s off to the races!" the announcer screamed over the aging sound system. 10...5...TOUCHDOWN! And the home team claimed their glory as time expired. The crowd rushed the field and their new hero was hoisted up onto their shoulders. They were going to states. This is our time. This is football season

And so it passed that the team lost to their superior neighbors farther south in the state championships. The bus ride home was melancholy, not a person uttered a cheerful word. Business resumed as usual, but throughout the town, whispers were heard. Rumors were passed of next year’s glory to be had. Even though they lost, the home town heroes were greeted with enthusiasm as they got off the bus. And so winter came and plans were drawn up for next season. What to do with the line up, what the homecoming jerseys should look like, and who would take over as the new D-backs coach.

So you see good friends, it is quite true: there is no off-season. They train in the weight room, they run on the tracks. For the player, there is no rest. And before you know it, summer will give way into fall and you just might hear the sound of a whistle on a crisp September morning as players start the first practice of two-a-days. This is their time. This is football season.

This is their time. This is football season.

that's a poem I wrote for English class. what do you guys think?

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