Middle Linebacker

A smattering of autumn yellow
in the trees lining the quad
banners waving gaily above the stadium
framed by clear blue sky
the marching band plays the fight song
team colors, a new school year
university motto, vincit omnia veritas
what classes do you have?
does she like me?
old men talking about the rookie quarterback
and the option offense
prayer
national anthem
oath of allegiance
a century of unbroken tradition
the neat white lines of the gridiron
laid over dazzling green
where troubling scars of history
cannot haunt
celebration and hope
fueling the joy
preordained promise of a bright life
self-identity carved in stone.

Beneath the grandstands
pre-game jitters
tapping cleats, low murmurs
tape jobs by silent trainers
ankles, wrists, fingers, shoulders, and knees
–doubt–
will i let down the team?
will i be hurt?
why do i play this game?
stealing a look to the man in the middle
steadfast gaze into empty space
focused energy that does
not permit pain, nor understand doubt
incarnated iron age power in the locker room
born from a time before
opinion polls and fads
before the questioning of existence
and the blurring of virtue
no backing down now.

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