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The Football Game


by Matt Rowan


We got off the bus at the entrance to the other team's stadium. I remembered I didn't want to play football anymore and wondered why I was there.

The grass on the field was that burnt amber color it gets when it dries out and seems to be dying.

It started raining and the rain eventually turned to snow and created a slurry of gray that began covering the football field and everything else. The snow slurry soon covered the grass, and everyone felt a little bit better.

The players took the field, both sides didn't warm up. They didn't get loose. There was nothing but stiff muscles, cold bodies. One player stubbed his toe on a football, trying to kick it. He was our kicker, but he left after that. He'd had enough. We didn't have a kicker anymore. It was a big disadvantage not to have a kicker. Think about all the times you'd need to punt in a given game. Our punter had left, too, for different reasons.

One of the team's running backs began shattering records in terms of rushing and points scored. He was politely asked to stop.

He politely stopped.

The game resumed as normal and as nothing extraordinary.

It had been a good game, by the end.
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