Page 28 of A Game as Old as Time

The whistle from the referee brought a roar from the crowd as the kickoff team ran onto the field. A hasty shift of his coach’s visor brought a boiling into Gunner’s stomach that he struggled to understand.

What’s wrong with me?

He tried to concentrate. The reflection of his face on the helmet at his feet was the last thing he saw before the whistle on the field blew again.

“Another great return for Tyquan Carter, who brings the ball to the Mountain Hawk thirty-five-yard line. It will be first down and ten as Gunner Weston brings the Pioneers onto the field. Weston will be looking to bounce back after a tough game last week.”

“Alright guys, let’s make this count,” Gunner said, scanning over the players in the huddle. “Forget about last week and do your job.”

He called out the play, sending Emilio to the line before repeating it one more time.

“Break!”

As the team moved toward the line of scrimmage, Gunner brought his hands up to his mouth, whispering into them.

This is your moment.

He tried to steady his vision, but the dull headache had gotten stronger. The red helmets of the other team were a blur as he settled in behind Emilio.

“Weston calls out the cadence and takes the snap. He hands it to Carter, who is immediately hit and stopped for only a few yards on the play. Coach Bianchi is going to have to trust Weston to throw the ball if they are going to have any chance of winning this game.

Gunner Weston brings the team back to the ball on second down. Weston takes the snap, and he is going to throw. He has time and he… WOW! What a bad pass by Weston as he threw the ball way out of bounds---not even close to his receiver, Andy Green. Gunner Weston just does not seem comfortable tonight.

OK folks, here we go. Weston gets his team back up to the ball. He calls out the cadence and takes the snap. He is going to throw again. He is looking to Jefferson Taylor on the right side, and the ball is...”

Jesus Christ!

He missed again, and this time he threw it right to the other team. He had JT wide open. As he stood in disbelief, throwing off his chin strap, he heard the home crowd explode in cheers.

What am I doing? What’s going on?

His helmet was beginning to suffocate him, and he quickly ripped it off.

I can’t do this.

His chest was getting tight, and his legs were losing strength as he darted by his teammates near the bench.

Dad, I can’t do this.

A voice was yelling at him, but he was struggling to focus. The lights from the field were penetrating, and the headache was pulsating so hard that he thought his temple might burst.

Life is about moments, Gunner.

His dad’s voice was now ringing in his head, making the headache almost unbearable as he buried his forehead in his hands and dropped to the cold metal bench.

It is what you do with those…

“Gunner!” The loud scream boomed right in front of his face. “Gunner, I need you to focus right now! You need to wake the hell up because your teammates need you!” He forced his head up from his hands to find a red-faced Coach Bianchi standing in front of him. “Gunner, you are the quarterback, the leader, and right now, I need you to lead your teammates!”

I can’t do this.

He stood up slowly, walking toward the end of the metal bench.

“Gunner, what are you doing? Get back over here.”

It all felt like a nightmare. Gunner’s stomach was heaving, forcing him to grab his midsection for support.

“Gunner, what are you doing?”

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