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Football Town
The following account is my retelling of the highlights of my brother
Sammy's senior high school football season:
August came quickly that year to herald not only the end of my last
summer in high school but also the arrival of football season and the
torturous round of two-a-days that kick it off.
I was eighteen, reckless, and ready to go. This was going to be our
season. We were going to win state. We had planned it that way six years
ago, my teamates and I. I rolled into town, briefly stopping at the one
red light before taking a left and roaring on down Pirate Drive. The
Texas sun beat down hot and strong on the signs already posted that
lined the road. The state fever in the air clinging to the inevitable
August humidity was almost palpable. I looked up and saw "Crawford
Pirates are number one" painted clearly across the old water tower that
stood head and shoulders above the little farming community I called
home. As I pulled into the dusty parking area designated for football
players, I saw several of my teamates already clustered around the
vending machine in the back of the field house.
I swear I almost cried, the sense of history covering me was so strong.
I rolled up the window and turned off the engine, then with all my hopes
and dreams shining in my blue eyes I stepped out of my low-slung sports
car. The moment my booted feet hit the dirt a shot of pure joy and
longing burst in my chest and hung in the back of my throat. By God,
this was our season; we were going to win state. For a moment I felt
invincible, on top of the world, unstoppable.
Then we started practice and I remembered all the sweat that came before
glory on the field. I ran, threw up, coughed, and choked on the dust and
heat that seemed to beat incessantly upon my wide shoulders. Then came
the doubt that always accompanies great suffering. The questions just
seemed to pop up, rushing to my mind like a geyser: how bad do I want
this? Can we really do this? I suppose the answer to both was yes
because I continued on, day after long day. The sun beat down, the dust
floated up, and somewhere in the middle we got better.
Nothing prepared me for the first game of my senior season. Just like
every year before, it was the moment when all the suffering I had
endured made sense. However, something was different this time. It
seemed as though my destiny was staring me in the face, and for a
fanciful moment or two I believed that I had been born for this moment.
This was our season. We were going to win state. It was a mantra that I
played over and over in my head throughout the season. I remembered it
in the blowouts when I was trying to keep my focus. And further along in
the playoffs when I helplessly watched our season sliding down the
drain, I remembered the mantra once more and with the help of my
teammates we regained our destiny and snatched the game back from the
jaws of defeat.
You see, the year before I had watched the other team steal away our
destiny and I knew in my heart the sure agony of losing to an
undeserving foe. This year I would not let it happen without going down
fighting. Fate it seemed was on our side and our dreams of glory rose
phoenix-like from the ashes.
It was a great night for Texas football and I was a part of it. We were
down in the fourth quarter, less than eight minutes to go and losing by
two touchdowns. I and some others had been here before; we knew the
sinking feeling of defeat well. It boiled in my stomach like bile. I
looked at my friend and fellow lineman Aaron and I said, "Not like this."
We rushed onto the field and like ancient warriors we fought to turn the
tide. As it happens, the very next offensive play we ran went sixty
yards for a touchdown and their lead was cut in half. I ran through
every obstacle and cut a swathe through the defense allowing the running
back to sprint through and go the distance. Victory seemed possible once
again. I went back onto the field to play some defense; it was my duty
to disrupt and dismantle. I fulfilled that requirement with relish. When
I got tired, all I needed to do was look to the stadium where our loyal
fans and fellow believers stood and cheered, and my second wind would
hit me.
Then it happened. We forced the quarterback from the pocket and under
pressure he made a poor decision. As if in slow motion I watched the
ball come out of his hand and simply hang in the air, then I saw two
hands reach out and pluck it from its motionless state. The hands
belonged to my teammate Derrick. Then, as if to make up for time
standing still, it now seemed to move doubly fast. I turned and
immediately began to block (my bread and butter as an offensive
lineman). Derrick went seventy yards for the tying score. The game would
go into double overtime but the camel's back had already been broken;
victory was ours.
The rest of the season played out like a movie full of ups and downs,
heartbreak, and ultimately triumph. Perhaps I should now be on the
lookout for a new dream, a new destiny. Some may say that all I did was
win a football game, but the truth is much deeper. I had a dream and I
set a goal for myself. Very few people in this life can say truthfully
that once upon a time they turned their dream into a reality. I made
history, because, you see, it was my season, and we did win state.
Tamra Fisher
Crawford, Texas
Published:
November 14,
2005
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