I had a great internal battle when I learned my son’s team had made the regional high school football playoffs. The game was scheduled for Halloween evening which meant choosing between the game and taking the girls trick-or-treating. This was to be the first Halloween where they would both be fully engaged in the moment and I wanted to be part of that experience with them. In the end I chose the game because it could well be the last of his high school career. The girls have many more Halloweens ahead of them.

Our team, the Vikings, were facing the Trojans on the Trojans home field. We had lost to them the first game of the season but we were not the same team that started the season. We had picked up solid momentum as the season progressed and had done a good job of identifying our strengths on the ground.  We were ready to fight and the seniors, my son among them, had no intention of ending their season here. This year marked the 10th straight year the Vikings had made it into the Regional playoffs. One milestone achieved.

Upon arriving I walked around the playing field to the visitors side and thought to myself, this field looks like crap. Turf was missing in many places and the middle of the field, marking the 50 yard line, was more mud and dirt than grass. This was going to be a dirty game. The field seemed to invite battle. I thought my son would appreciate this as he has a romance and passion for the game that is difficult to reckon with.

I brought my camera to the game. I always bring it, weather willing. This game I was invited onto the field to take my shots and happily accepted. I’ve shot too many photos from rickety visitors bleachers to know the outcome is often less than desirable. I took several shots as the boys warmed up for the game. The testosterone and trash talk gaining momentum as each team shot glances and occasional words back and forth. I don’t know that anything rivals the invincibility associated with a winning high school football team.

The game began and the Trojans quickly drew first blood by scoring a touchdown within the first few minutes. We answered as best we could by blocking the extra point and succeeded in sending a clear message that we were here to play. The game marched on and my son played almost every offensive and defensive play. The Vikings white colors quickly faded to a dull grey as more and more turf was unearthed in the battle.

My son and I talked on the phone a few times in the days leading up to the game. He commented that he felt like he was fighting for his life with each game, his football life. He talked of the reality that surrounds those last games of a high school seniors career. The fact that many of those on the team would not be suiting up again once this season ended. So many of these boys have been battling shoulder to shoulder since middle school. Team is too light a word to give justice to the bond many of them have created. They have grown into a family.

The battle continued through the first quarter and found the Trojans scoring again leaving the Vikings scoreless as they marched into the second quarter. The clock was winding towards halftime when the Viking found their momentum and moved the ball into Trojan territory. With a final push they rushed toward the goal marker and closed the quarter with seven points. The teams gathered themselves and filed into their locker rooms. Trojans 13 Vikings 7.

The Vikings have community support the likes of which I have not seen, at least not among any of the teams we have played over the years. Home games are as crowded as they can be and more than once there has been standing room only. Away games are almost as crowded and the visitors bleachers often feel too small. We seem to consistently outnumber the fans of any opposing team. I’ve always thought our kids were very fortunate to know what this kind of support feels like it. The roots in their community run deep.

The third quarter began and the tension was certainly high. Each team struggled with penalties and the offenses could find no victory as the lines fought. Punt after punt found the third quarter closing without any additional points on the board. Trojans 13 Viking 7.

At this point I imagine will trumps endurance. Thus far the battle had been grueling with each yard gained fully earned and each possession lost fully sought after. Neither side was showing a clear sign of weakness though the result of the last three quarters could be seen clearly  on their faces and heard in their breath.

The fourth quarter began with the Trojans working earnestly to maintain their lead. The blocked extra point must have been looming heavy in their minds and constantly considered as they strategized. The Vikings put everything they had left into each play and moved the ball into Trojan territory several times. The clock was rapidly winding down and the Vikings had possession. It’s 4th down and a first down is needed to continue the charge. The ball is snapped. The pass is thrown. The receiver leaps. The defender leaps, nudging the receiver. The ball is briefly touched and falls to the ground. The officials call the pass incomplete and the Vikings sideline and stands come unglued. The call should have been pass interference. The decision stands. Hearts collectively sank.

The Trojans regained possession and let the clock run down to win the game. Trojans 13 Viking 7.

Just like they did when they were eleven and twelve years old they lined up and each Viking met the Trojans as they marched single file up the middle of the field. The boys came back around and met in front of their student section. The cheers of victory were sadly absent as they shared in the loss of the game and the end of the season.

I met my son on the field, with a hug,  and he simply said, “It’s over Dad” while wiping away tears. I told him he had every reason to be proud and they’ve ended the season with their heads held high. All around me parents and coaches were having a similar conversation with other players. One person came up to my son and told him he would be playing on Saturdays soon enough and those games were more fun anyway, speaking of college. The emotion was intense.

The players filed off the field and my son and a few other stayed behind seeming to absorb as much of the last game as they possibly could.

Standing on a field that was not their own.

Fade to black.