The ball is in motion in the backfield
the line holds, holds, holds,
a man breaks through and rushes forward
the ball flies into the air.
The passer goes down in a tackle
the yellow flag hits the ground,
before the receiver drifts across the boundary.
The clock stops to move the chains
the ball replaced by the whistle men
the teams huddle and make their plans
their fingers touch the ground
they are pinned now, unable to move.
The air snaps around them waiting,
waiting, waiting, waiting, snap!
Head cracks against head
shoulder braces against shoulder
the arms have to stay inside but they never do.
Holding! Holding! Holding Dammit!
Can’t you see you blind bastard!
The defender goes down and there is a break in the line.
The ball is knocked from the air.
Another down and another go
the yards stretch out before them
a start, a fake, a pass, a catch.
He spins around one tackle
and bounces off another
one finally gets his legs
and he falls down, down, down.
Move it forward again
down to the ball
up again, the ball in the air
the fingers clutch, it bounces.
From finger to finger it bounces
Out of one arm and into the next
Finally landing, bouncing, out of bounds.
Stop the clock, start the countdown
huddle and yell, yell and huddle
break, hut, hike, go!
Fake, fake, fake, break away
a hole opens and he sprints through the middle
Slam! Down to the ground.
Move the chains but call the stretcher.
Silence descends like a heavy blanket.
Talking, movement, he’s on the stretcher,
his thumb is up. The crowd claps.
Just the claps. No yells, no jeers, just the claps.
The clock restarts,
the battle lines reform,
they break and clash and fight and run.
The game goes on,
and on and on and on.
The time runs down, the whistles blow.
One team slowly slinks away, their coach asked “What happened?”
One team streams onto the field, their coach asked “How do you feel?”
The players, happy or sad, shower and dress and leave.
Another day, another game awaits.
