It was the last football game that I ever played in.
We had a chance to make the playoffs for the first time in a decade.
It was raining fiercely;
and our quarterback
couldn’t hold onto the ball.
He had two fumbles,
and four interceptions.
One of the worst games
a person could play.
I remember after the game was over–
after we lost by one touchdown–
the team circled in the end-zone,
to reflect on the game,
And this time,
the season.
He was on a knee,
this quarterback;
with his head as far down as it could get,
and his hands covering his eyes.
Tears squirted out between his fingers.
He was a mess.
He tried to hide it.
He tried not to make noise.
But he was gasping for breath,
like only the truly hurt do.
He had dreamt of being a pro football player,
but now,
His senior season,
and his football career,
had gone up in flames.
He had his senior pictures the next day,
and he couldn’t manage a smile.
Yes,
I remember him,
and that game,
with an incredible amount of clarity.
I can still feel it deep into my soul.
Because he was me,
And a part of him died that day.
It got buried underneath the grass,
in the south end-zone.
-C.H.
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