|Perfect night for football.|
|Sweat and contemplation. #9 Joe Smith|
|The home crowd.|
|Taking the field. # 36 Ben Smith|
|Even the moon came to play. Jeremiah Smith #45|
There is something about a cool shiver in the evening air and lights coming on as the sun sets.
The barky smell of fallen leaves on damp, chalked grass, pumpkin spiced latte, sweat and the satisfying thwurack of a really great hit.
Players, coaches and referees silhouetted against aluminum bleachers and autumn blue sky, bigger then life in colors they'll always be loyal too.
The mutual risings and shared groans of the blanketed crowd, the rushed cadence of something like music from a band and hearing your kids name from the announcer, especially the other teams.
And always a non-supportive sibling from the three and younger gang wailing with the cheers, the noise-maker group enthusiastically embarrassing themselves.
Pizza cold as cardboard or over priced hot dogs and popcorn. A hooded sweatshirt is fashion haute couture.
That one mom just off work in high heels and a short black skirt...where does she work again? And, the dad's who played, who really know, their butts firmly planted on cold metal their souls wearing a helmet and cleats.
There it is, that glance from the sideline, the slight lift of a face-masked chin, acknowledgement that all this matters, and that in a few short years when Fall means extra yard work and changing out the anti-freeze there'll be a warm gathering in the heart, a whoop of triumph in the soul, and lights coming on as the sun sets.