Not today…not on Friday. I thought that feeling would go away…boy was I wrong.
The crowd walking out of the stadium keeps getting smaller. Quite a few of them look in my direction with that "Hey, I remember you" look. No wonder, it's only been a year since I set foot in that stadium, all suited up and ready to play my fucking heart out. Hell, it's been a year since I've been in that stadium period. I couldn't force myself to watch someone else play…not this season. Just didn't seem right. Almost like I would fall into that god-awful group of glory-day has-beens…a group I despised for so long.
My legs feel heavy as I approach the entrance. The lights almost blind me. I stare across the rows of empty chairs, inhaling the familiar scent of sweat and dirt. I try to step onto the field, but my stomach twists. The lump in my throat is harder to swallow. It's really over. 17 is really gone…and I can't get it back.
Just step onto the field, I tell myself. The grass blades crunch beneath my feet. It's quiet…so different from the games. This just isn't right…I should be playing, those stands should be filled, that scoreboard should be counting down the remaining seconds…and Mike should be standing next to me.
My stomach twists again and I suddenly feel weak. Why does it all have to end? I fall to my knees in utter defeat. We lost the state championship…and just like that, we were done.
Everyone kept telling me that it wasn't the end, that my life was only beginning. Everyone except Dad. He said I have one year to do something, to make it all matter. One final year. After that, nothing gets better…nothing becomes spectacular.
"I'll be damned if you don't miss it."
Tears well up in my eyes as I stare out towards the open field. I lift my head to look at the lights against the dark sky. Stars cease to exist here…the lights are all you need.
Yeah, I do miss it. Maybe tomorrow I won't, maybe I'll start forgetting what it's like to carry that ball into the end zone. Maybe I'll start forgetting what it's like to hold Mike's hand in the huddles…what it's like to bleed black and white. Maybe tomorrow my heart won't beat mojo anymore.