The nerves are raging, mainly in my stomach as the butterflies fluttered till no end. "Is everything ok? Will everything go as planned?" I couldn't stop thinking about what would happen. Images were racing wild as I thought about my teammates going to battle without me. I couldn't comprehend why I had to let them handle it on their own. I had played with them since we were in the eighth grade, and when they needed me the most, all I could do was sit and cheer. I hated this feeling of helplessness, but at the same time, I knew I had to do what little I could-well.
It was two days until the first game of my last high school football season. My team and I were going to play Palatine, a battle we had persistently prepared for since the last game of our junior year. The sun was beating on my pads, radiating the heat to make practice seem even worse.
I was exhausted and looking forward to the end of my last sweat pouring practice for the week. Our team was repetitively executing plays to make sure they were like second nature to us on Friday. Then, creating an unknown silence, Coach Pendergast yells, "Last Play!"
The play was "Red 334" which is a run to our halfback, me, out of our dive series. I crouched over the ball as I jetted past the quarterback and ran the play so we could observe the changes we needed to make. I let out a sigh of relief because we were finished with the most dreaded part of practice; well, only until someone complained about not knowing their job on one of our pass plays. Coach Pendergast undoubtedly decided we needed to run through the final pass play before...