"Red. Set."
Otto looked left down the offensive line one last time, checking that everyone was in place, ready to block for him. He had called a fairly straight forward run, one of his personal favorites. He knew the Francis Frog Legs had a new linebacker, Napoleon Jr. His father, Napoleon Sr. had been a legendary quarterback at Francis High and coached the team currently, but unfortunately his son was not nearly as talented as his father. He lacked the mental and physical strength you needed for football in Otto's opinion, but he still maintained the arrogance of a talented player. Back when his father was playing, the game would have been much tougher. Otto would have been concerned. A play this simple would not have gained him any yardage against Napoleon the Great. However, Napoleon Sr.'s reign was over, and Otto knew Junior was not going to be the next legend. That title belonged to him.
"Hut."
The two lines of young men sprung into action, the sound of colliding, padded bodies filling the air as Otto's call left his mouth. His center faked the hike back to him, and Otto dutifully pretended to run the ball to the right. The Frog Legs were completely duped, and a hefty linebacker charged forward to tackle the red herring. As he landed heavily on the ground beneath the hulk-sized boy, he heard elated screams erupt from the crowd. The linebacker rolled off of him, and Otto stood, looking down the field just in time to see his center complete the 40 yard touchdown. Otto chuckled to himself. If games were going to be this easy, he could take the G. Ermany Rhinos all the way to States this year.
"63-0."
Otto stood on a bench in the locker room, addressing his team post-game. This was generally the captains job, but Wilhelm usually just let Otto do it. He was better at it anyway. The rest of the team stood in a circle around their quarterback, some with their uniforms half off, and most looking pretty energized. It had not been a physically taxing game for the hardened athletes of G. Ermany Lutheran Prep.
"We crushed them 63-0 on their own field. You men should be incredibly proud of yourselves. Not only did we prove to them that their past success is not indicative of their current talent, we showed them that the Rhinos mean business." Cheers echoed throughout the tiny locker room. Otto continued, getting more animated with every word.
"If we continue to dominate our league like this, the administration at G. Ermany will be practically throwing money at us. In order to make it to the State Championships, we have to want it. We can't be timid on the field and we can't be timid in practice. We can't even be timid off the field if we want to be champions. We have to be aggressive in every aspect of our lives, and only then will our collective aggression make us undefeatable. You should all leave the field with the other teams blood smeared on your uniforms." Otto gestured to his own uniform, which was in fact marked with several red smears. "Let the gray in your jerseys represent your iron-hard will to win, to incinerate the competition. And let our enemies blood be shed during each game we play." Otto was full on shouting at this point, and his teammates, feeding off of his vibe, were practically bouncing in excitement. "It is by this philosophy of blood and iron that the Rhinos will be the state champions this year, and every year after!"
At this point, the boys went wild. Somebody started a chant of "blood and iron" and Otto was affectionately buried under a pile of grimy, padded bodies. Eventually, the cheering lost its momentum, and someone grabbed Otto's hand to help him up. The grip was firm, but gentle.