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Name: Michael Cahill
Teacher: Mrs. O’Keefe
Date: March 13, 2009
Period: 7
Game on the Gridiron
The only sound besides the cool autumn breeze was the breaths of the players. The stadium was silent. Deathly silent. “Wide Receiver Option, on one.” The unanimous clap rang throughout the field as the sweating players broke the huddle. The husky linemen jogged to and crouched in their positions and the center placed his burly hand on the football. Agile receivers took their own positions, waiting for the imminent snap of the ball. Finally, the quarterback crouched behind his center’s hefty frame. “Red five! Red five! Set… Hut!” As soon as that word filled the air, twenty-two men snapped into motion. The center flicked his wrist and snapped the cold ball to the quarterback. The quarterback’s legs carried him backwards through the short-cut grass. His trained eyes quickly scanned the field like an eagle, looking for any openings in the seemingly impenetrable defense. The smell of warm hot dogs and the cheering of the fans filled his ears, but years of experience pushed these distractions out of the way. He continued his quick but methodical search when a flicker of white flashed passed his peripheral vision. His veteran knowledge of the game told him to either find a receiver quick or to throw the ball out of bounds. He knew his only option was to find a receiver, since the clock was ticking down to the inevitable :00. Finally, his top receiver broke loose and he began the procedure of throwing the ball. But as his muscular arm came forward and started to let the ball go, he felt his feet leave the ground. The ball floated up in the air, shorter than he had wanted. As the quarterback hit the cold, hard ground, the stands erupted. Ten yards ahead, the tight end had a firm grip on the pigskin and was still on his feet. With an agile jump to the left and a stiff arm to the right, the tight end was free and sprinted the thirty yards to the blue and gold painted end zone. Meanwhile, the quarterback was still on the ground, grimacing as pain shot up his leg. The setting sun glared in his face as he lay flat on the ground. Trying to ignore the pain, he turned his head to the left. Fans were standing and yelling, trying to get a look at the injured quarterback. The scoreboard read HOME-26, VISITOR-27 and had :01 on the game clock. As the gray-jacketed trainers jogged onto the field, the quarterback knew he needed to continue to play. With a wave of his hand, he sent the trainers back to the sidelines and began the painful process of getting up. After a painful thirty-second trek down the field, he finally got into the huddle. “Alright. We need a two-point conversion. Quarterback Sneak on one.” Another simultaneous clap of the players broke the huddle, but this time, there were no agile receivers or quick tight ends. Only the quarterback, the running back, and nine linemen were on the field of play. The quarterback reminded himself as the players lined up, “This is the most important play of the game. Not the last touchdown pass. That doesn’t matter if we don’t convert. The whole game comes down to this play.” “Green 8! Green 8! Set...” The pressure was getting to him. The cheering of the fans filling his ears, the smells of hotdogs and popcorn wafting into his nose, and the vibe of the moment engulfing his inner self. He wanted to think it was all a dream, but the realism of this moment seemed to slap him. He knew the game depended on him. Even his six years of experience could not make these thoughts leave his mind. Suddenly, another thought came into his already overflowing mind. “On the touchdown pass before, I knew the game relied on me then, too. But I did it! I can do it again!” A little bit of confidence from that thought calmed down his fluttery stomach somewhat. Not enough to become the usual confident self he was, but still confident enough. “Hut!” Once again, the twenty-two players all snapped into motion. The burly halfback ran ahead of the quarterback, knocking over a defensive lineman. This cleared a hole just big enough for the quarterback, or was the hole too small? The quarterback decided to take the risk. He dodged one muscular lineman and scrambled to the hole. As he reached it, a linebacker appeared. He knew there was only one thing to do. The quarterback, sprained ankle and all, leapt into the air. Pain shot up his ankle into his leg, and all he could do was grimace and try to push the pain aside. Thoughts raced through his head: “Will I be able to play next season?,” “Is my ankle broken?” All of these ended, though, when he hit the ground on his shoulder. More pain than he thought possible engulfed him, as he lay stricken on the firm earth. As the trainers ran onto the field yet again, he remembered a saying: “Take on for the team.”
Teacher: Mrs. O’Keefe
Date: March 13, 2009
Period: 7
Game on the Gridiron
The only sound besides the cool autumn breeze was the breaths of the players. The stadium was silent. Deathly silent. “Wide Receiver Option, on one.” The unanimous clap rang throughout the field as the sweating players broke the huddle. The husky linemen jogged to and crouched in their positions and the center placed his burly hand on the football. Agile receivers took their own positions, waiting for the imminent snap of the ball. Finally, the quarterback crouched behind his center’s hefty frame. “Red five! Red five! Set… Hut!” As soon as that word filled the air, twenty-two men snapped into motion. The center flicked his wrist and snapped the cold ball to the quarterback. The quarterback’s legs carried him backwards through the short-cut grass. His trained eyes quickly scanned the field like an eagle, looking for any openings in the seemingly impenetrable defense. The smell of warm hot dogs and the cheering of the fans filled his ears, but years of experience pushed these distractions out of the way. He continued his quick but methodical search when a flicker of white flashed passed his peripheral vision. His veteran knowledge of the game told him to either find a receiver quick or to throw the ball out of bounds. He knew his only option was to find a receiver, since the clock was ticking down to the inevitable :00. Finally, his top receiver broke loose and he began the procedure of throwing the ball. But as his muscular arm came forward and started to let the ball go, he felt his feet leave the ground. The ball floated up in the air, shorter than he had wanted. As the quarterback hit the cold, hard ground, the stands erupted. Ten yards ahead, the tight end had a firm grip on the pigskin and was still on his feet. With an agile jump to the left and a stiff arm to the right, the tight end was free and sprinted the thirty yards to the blue and gold painted end zone. Meanwhile, the quarterback was still on the ground, grimacing as pain shot up his leg. The setting sun glared in his face as he lay flat on the ground. Trying to ignore the pain, he turned his head to the left. Fans were standing and yelling, trying to get a look at the injured quarterback. The scoreboard read HOME-26, VISITOR-27 and had :01 on the game clock. As the gray-jacketed trainers jogged onto the field, the quarterback knew he needed to continue to play. With a wave of his hand, he sent the trainers back to the sidelines and began the painful process of getting up. After a painful thirty-second trek down the field, he finally got into the huddle. “Alright. We need a two-point conversion. Quarterback Sneak on one.” Another simultaneous clap of the players broke the huddle, but this time, there were no agile receivers or quick tight ends. Only the quarterback, the running back, and nine linemen were on the field of play. The quarterback reminded himself as the players lined up, “This is the most important play of the game. Not the last touchdown pass. That doesn’t matter if we don’t convert. The whole game comes down to this play.” “Green 8! Green 8! Set...” The pressure was getting to him. The cheering of the fans filling his ears, the smells of hotdogs and popcorn wafting into his nose, and the vibe of the moment engulfing his inner self. He wanted to think it was all a dream, but the realism of this moment seemed to slap him. He knew the game depended on him. Even his six years of experience could not make these thoughts leave his mind. Suddenly, another thought came into his already overflowing mind. “On the touchdown pass before, I knew the game relied on me then, too. But I did it! I can do it again!” A little bit of confidence from that thought calmed down his fluttery stomach somewhat. Not enough to become the usual confident self he was, but still confident enough. “Hut!” Once again, the twenty-two players all snapped into motion. The burly halfback ran ahead of the quarterback, knocking over a defensive lineman. This cleared a hole just big enough for the quarterback, or was the hole too small? The quarterback decided to take the risk. He dodged one muscular lineman and scrambled to the hole. As he reached it, a linebacker appeared. He knew there was only one thing to do. The quarterback, sprained ankle and all, leapt into the air. Pain shot up his ankle into his leg, and all he could do was grimace and try to push the pain aside. Thoughts raced through his head: “Will I be able to play next season?,” “Is my ankle broken?” All of these ended, though, when he hit the ground on his shoulder. More pain than he thought possible engulfed him, as he lay stricken on the firm earth. As the trainers ran onto the field yet again, he remembered a saying: “Take on for the team.”
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