Thank you Grant for getting me started again! It may take some time to brush the rust off but it feels good to write again!!!
My first time on a Football Field.
I was 13 years old the first time I strapped on that gear. The bulky shoulder pads, the menacing helmet, and the jersey. Many people who watch professional sports don’t realize what that jersey means to the player. It means you belong to something bigger than just yourself. That no matter the outcome you fought your hardest for yourself and fellow team mates.
Stepping onto the field for the first time was a day I will never forget. Game day, lights on, people in the stands. You can smell the sweet green grass as it gives way under your cleats. The roar of the crowd all but drowned out by the heart beating your chest and in the chests of the men around you. All beating as one as you rush the field prepared for battle. You feel your pulse rate climb and synchronize with 30 other people. You aren’t just teammates, you are family. One entity working together to destroy an opponent.
Coaches lead their teams in pregame warmups and prayers. Asking God for strength, and forgiveness. Strength to overcome this adversary and forgiveness for what we are about to do to them. Last minute stretches, preparing your body for war. Final preparations made, plays adjusted, equipment checked. You scan the crowd and see hundreds of eager faces willing you to perform, to fight your hardest. Your heartbeat fills your throat.
Kick off. The ball booms through the air and you can hear it slam into a receiver. A small ball made of leather, filled with air, cracks through the air like a bolt of lightning. Pads strike pads as warriors collide. There is no sound like it. The straining and sound of forceful impact. The thunder of footsteps resounds in your core. Shaking your very being down to every fiber. This is it, this is your time. Whistles blow. The Play ends, time to breathe.