Letters

The Game

The rest of the week and next began to fly on at the speed of light. I had football practice everyday and the coach began to drill us harder than ever for the homecoming game. Thankfully I didn't have any more terrible mess ups; there was one play I wasn't quite sure I could reliably execute, but otherwise I was okay.

Things with Mia also started to get better. We still had to force conversation when we were around each other, but it was getting easier. Or at least that's what I would have liked to think. She seemed to like me though and we talked whenever we got the chance while we were at school, sometimes when we were with other people sometimes alone.

Then dawned the day of the homecoming game. The junior varsity game, the one I was playing in, was at 4:30 and the varsity game, the one most people wanted to see was at 6:30. Then the homecoming dance was the next day, Saturday, at 7:00 p.m. The junior varsity team was all gathered in the locker room and nerves were about to cause me to have a panic attack.

"Old Mill is a difficult team to beat, and they had the reputation for being one of the best JV teams in the county. But so do we," the coach said. He was trying to keep us all from having a nervous breakdown. Even the team captain who was usually very cool and collected was pacing back and forth and whispering to himself. "We can do this.You guys have trained really hard this season and I believe that you beat Old Mill." There were a couple of head nods and grunts. The coach sighed. "I know you guys are nervous. I'm not sure what to tell you to make you feel better."

I looked down at my shoes not meeting his eyes. The truth was there really was nothing he could say to make me feel better. This was our homecoming game. Most of the school would be here to support us. Hundreds of people were counting on us to beat a team that so far has been almost unbeatable. On top of that, Mia was going to be here watching me. It wasn't going to look very impressive, if I failed after she had just agreed to go to homecoming with me a little over a week ago.

"I don't think there is anything you can say coach," the team captain, Patrick, said echoing my thoughts. "Unless you can tell us we don't have to play Old Mill." The coach chuckled and a couple of the other team mates joined in. I couldn't find the humor in that.

He slapped Patrick on the back. "I have faith in you, don't worry." He turned to the rest of us. "Well, you guys have about 10 minutes until the game starts. Don't worry so much. Cheer up. This is the last game of the season." With that happy note, he left the locker room.

There wasn't much talking even after he left. The team mates kind of shuffled around adjusting things that didn't need to be adjusted, tying shoes that were already tied. Bryce sat next to me in silence. I wished I could at least talk to someone. That would make the time go by faster.

Finally time was up. The coach came back. I put my helmet on and my mouth guard in.

"On the count of three you are going to run out of here onto the field. You know the drill! Three, two, one, go!" We took off running out of the locker room and down to the field.

As I ran to the field I began to gain confidence. This was our homecoming game. If the coach thought we could beat Old Mill we could beat them. He was supposed to pick a team that we could easily beat, and if this was the team he chose, we were going to beat them.

Once we got to the field I immediately heard the cheers of all the students that had come to see us. It felt nice to be cheered on, and they increased as we all ran onto the field.

"And introducing your home coming junior varsity team, Wicomico High School!" I turned toward the crowd as I was supposed to do and waved along with the rest of the team, trying to pick out familiar faces in the crowd. I knew a lot of the kids in the crowd, most of the freshman had come because there were quite a few of us on the team this year, but none on varsity. After a minute I caught sight of Nathan standing with a couple other of his friends holding a finger pointer. He waved at me from a couple rows, somewhat close to the front, and I waved back.