Game Day

Game Day

Andrew Heisler



Sunday, Game day, I step onto the grass field, smelling the freshly mowed grass and fresh paint as I put my helmet on. I look up toward the flag and finish suiting up. I walk over to my coach and nod my head, he just points me towards the practice. All the practice blurs together, the drills, sprints, and plays. It’s all pre-game practicing, the last few things we need to do before we run out on to the field; and start playing. As practice ends, we all huddle around the coach. The coach starts off “You’ve all worked hard all week, and that’s why your here. Your here to win, not to walk off and lose because thats not the team you are. Your a team of champions, a team of friends and winners. A team that will win because you can and want too. Can we win?”



“Yes coach,” the entire team shouts in unison. We sprint over, grab our waters and jog over to the field. Touching the rock, a home game tradition, we all feel like we will win. We know all as a team that this is our house, not there’s.



As the coin toss gets called, we receive the ball. We all run toward our teammates meeting in a huddle. Jack gets down and we all start our pre-game huddle chant. The national anthem plays, we all honor the flag and the lives lost to protect it. Though the minute it ends it’s back to football. The kickoff and offense fly by with an amazing sweep but gets ended there. The defense is sent out. Now as I run out, I’m high-fiving everyone as they run out, and I run in. “Huddle up,” I yell, as the team gathers around me waiting for a play to be called. The play is called, slant strong is all I think as I line up on the line of scrimmage. “Down, set,” yells the quarterback, as I tense up, waiting for the ball to be snapped. “Hut, Hut, Hut,” The quarterback yells as the ball is snapped. The instance it’s snapped I dash in, ripping through the center straight to the quarterback. Now anyone will tell you that those half seconds between passing the line of scrimmage, getting closer to the quarterback, you can see the fear from him. The fear you see is pure fear, not fear over a lost pencil, it’s fear like failing a test. He tenses up, preparing for the hit, and your suppose to deliver that right to him. Like a mailman delivering a package, quick and fluid. The sack just happens, nothing intended. This keeps up for the game but really the game starts before any player step on the field, it starts in practice, but it all ends on game day.