1WN 083

Black 83 bounced from foot to foot, feeling the ache in his left knee. He closed his eyes and took inventory: his left hand pounded, his back was beginning to spasm, and his right arm wouldn’t lift above his head. It was the end of the game. It was the end of the season. It was the end of high school.

He felt defeated.

“This one’s ours, QB! Our one win,” he heard Coach Gladstone yell. 83 breathed deeply, pulling in as much air from the field as he could, imagining the particles of football mixing with his blood. He imagined his arms repairing, his back calming, his hand healing.

His knee still ached.

The team setup and tensed in position. “This is it,” he thought, before calling the play to his teammates. The crowd hushed. Then, “Hut!”

He simply watched his body execute, like a dance. As 22 sprinted across the field, 83 let loose and counted: 6, 5, 4…

Red 49 broke the block on the right.


Red 12 broke the block on the left.


They didn’t see the pass.


Red 12 dove for the knees.


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