The roars of the crowd drowned out his own heartbeat; a murderous mob held at bay with only a thin chain fence. He wiped the sweat from his eyes and glanced at the guys around him. The same wild fear shone from their eyes that he knew was hiding in his own.

He glanced at the clock – :45. He looked at the score – Visitors: 7, Home: 6. His tongue flicked over his lips nervously. Forty-five seconds to move ten yards. The distance seemed to be endless.

Breathing deeply, he settled his helmet on his head and broke the huddle, trying to reassure each of his players even though he felt none himself.

His guards formed a wall of flesh between himself and the opponent – the technical opponent anyway. His real enemy – and the enemy of every player on this field – sat all around them, cheering and yelling and threatening. His eyes flickered over the tightly packed bleachers and, with his stomach clenching in terror, he saw the bloodthirsty looks on every face.

Swallowing hard, he called off the count and the center snapped the ball back to him. He rubbed the textured leather and instinctively shifted the ball until he felt the tight laces beneath his fingers. Within a breath’s time, he was pedaling backward and away from the rushing linesmen, trying to find his open receiver. A flash of yellow jersey appeared in his peripheral vision and he dodged to the side... At least he tried to. Another yellow jersey surged up beside him and he felt his legs pushed out from underneath him even while his midsection went the opposite direction. As he hit the ground, the breath whooshed from his lungs and stars flashed before his eyes. And then he felt his stomach clench when the football flew from his hand.

The crowd stood and the air reverberated with their animalistic cries. A scramble ensued and when the refs cleared away the players, a yellow jersey came up with the ball. His life flashed before his eyes; he hadn’t even the strength to stand. Finally one of his wide receivers gave him a hand up; the player’s face was resigned and nearly grey with terror.

The clock now read :33. And the technical opponents had the ball. The game was over. He knew it, the wide receiver knew it, the whole team knew it. They blocked and rushed and tackled but within two more plays, the horn sounded signaling the end of the game. The other team rushed off the field, not wanting to get caught out on the field unprotected... although what they feared he did not know; they had not lost.

A dead silence settled over the stadium: no footsteps, no whistles, no jeering, nothing. Slowly, a buzzing rose from filled bleachers - angry bees disturbed and out for vengeance. The buzzing swelled to a deafening roar and then beyond that. He and his players huddled on the fifty-yard line, guarding each other’s backs, facing the advancing mob even as every instinct told them to at least try to run. But each player knew it was futile to struggle. They would be Punished for their failure as the others before them.

One of the newer players stuttered a desperate plea but when his words were met with only ominous glares, he fell silent. When the indignantly irate mob drew within a mere three yards of them, he felt his back straighten and his shoulders draw back proudly and in that moment he could feel every other player doing the same thing. They had played well and to the best of their ability. The Fans had no cause to com-

Then they were pulled down by the Fans and the Punishment began. Each player prayed in earnest for the first time in his life even as that life was stripped away from him. Tomorrow morning twelve boys would conspicuously be missing from their classes and twelve bare mounds of dirt would be added to the dozens of others behind the football field.