Personal Narrative: My First High School Football

I still remember the first high school football game I ever attended. I stood in the first row next to my best friends, Jordan and Nick. It was the fall of our first year in junior high; the leaves just had begun to turn, there was the soft burnt autumn smell in the air, and it was just cool enough that we brought our matching Machebeuf hoodies. As the home team sprinted onto the field, the student section erupted, posters shot up into the air, the cheerleaders began their chants, and the whole stadium radiated with excitement. The players, however, weren’t fazed by the commotion in the stands. Their passion for the sport was nearly visible, and I looked up to them. From that day on, I knew I wanted to one day be a part of the brotherhood …show more content…
From all conference senior captain, Aaron Beckman to little freshman like myself, everybody was nonetheless excited. Along with all the high energy in the air, the first day of practice began a new era, the Brother Peter Era. It was the first season for our new head coach Brother Peter, who had recently coached in Texas, one of the best and toughest football states in America. Each day of practice brought a new level of excitement. We were inching closer and closer to our first battle against the Manual high school. I could already taste victory as sweat was dripping into my mouth. But I was fine with that; that meant I was pushing myself as hard as I could in hopes it would reimburse as we …show more content…
Throughout the day, I couldn't focus on anything but football. My classes were a blur. With my jersey on, I felt an overwhelming sense of honor and accomplishment: a feeling that was foreign to me. I had done it. I accomplished my dream. In a few short hours, I would be able to sprint onto the football field, under the Friday night lights, wearing the name “Bishop Machebeuf” across my chest and hearing people yell and chant for us. I had finally crossed the threshold between the sixth grader in the stands to who he wanted to become. A starting varsity player. But little did I know, it was only the first step into my high school career. Entering into the game, reality hit me; I had never been more nervous in my life. Every time I looked up I glanced at the famed Friday night-lights that every player wishes he could play beneath. I heard our growing and hyped student section cheering us on. I heard my family and, of course, my mother shouting my name and number from the top of her lungs. I smelled popcorn being tossed around and burgers and hot dogs being flipped on the