Sophomore Slump

It came straight off the silver screen. Friday Night Lights, Metro Conference style. The preparation, the hype, the adrenaline; The game, the fight, the heart. The pride, the championship, the season; gone. Somehow the proud tenor of the Mustangs chorus of the Common Doxology rang empty Friday Night. No perfect game, no threepeat, just anguish.

Walking off the field, nothing left to give; there was no reason to hide your tears. Everyone knew. The fraternity of high school football bridges the gap between generations. Coaches, referees, teachers, they all know what it feels like. Our pain was felt by everyone. Even the waiter at Ram's Horn cried a tear for the Mustags Friday night.

The muffled sound of tears was unmistakable on the otherwise silent bus pulling out of the parking lot. Harper Woods hooligans taunted, jeered, and jabbed. The bus remained silent, nothing left to fight back with, the Mustangs rode away dejected.

It is impossible to capture the essence of sports. If you haven't played high school football, it is difficult to grasp a handful of seventeen year old athletes in tears, hugging one another, muttering soft "I love yous," after a loss like this. It is a unique love, those who walk past unnoticed in the hallways, are your brothers on the field. The world of sports are filled with cliches,"it isn't whether you win or lose it's how you play the game". The emotion speaks for itself. I know how we played the game.

Leave nothing.