
Friday night under the lights. First game of the season and the smell of freshly cut grass. “Sunny side up! Quick, hit the deck!”, someone calls. And suddenly we drop. Dew damp on our backs, legs above us now staring through our facemask bars at the stillness in the autumn sky. In the distance, the clang of bundled keys against a helmet rouse a drifting player alert. People are filing past the gates and pouring onto the bleachers; aromas wafting from the snack bar float onto the field; a sense of excitement drapes the stadium as we take-in the cool, crisp, air of fall. “Titan jumping jacks on 3! Ready?!” Then back to the locker room for a quick prep talk. Game faces on. Sounds from the band now fill our ears. An alternate pounding of snare and bass drums send rumbles through the field. Single file out the gates as we burst through the banner held by leaders of cheer. “It’s game time!” Coins are tossed and we take the field. It was a different era—another world. A time…WHEN WERE TITANS.
Published on May 12, 2014 15:43