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| Perfect night for football. |
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| Sweat and contemplation. #9 Joe Smith |
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| The home crowd. |
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| Taking the field. # 36 Ben Smith |
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| Interception. Jeremiah Smith #45 |
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| 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.
