Tuesday, May 12, 2009

The Rusher

He finds his line and takes his place

He takes his ready stance

He crouches down like a sprinter getting ready to dart from the line

His strong arms reaching slightly

His hands opening and closing as if preparing themselves for the work

His long legs seem to go on for miles

His chiseled leg muscles are tight in anticipation of the work ahead

His face, serious and eyes fixed on the prize

The ball snaps as if in slow motion

He immediately darts from his line

His hair violently blowing in the gentle breeze

In only a second, certainly no more, he is upon the quarterback

The quarterback swerves left and swerves right

Trying to find some way out, but alas, he is no match

He matches his footsteps and his outstretched arm reaches

His eyes still fixed on the prize

His hand firmly grasps the flag and pulls it free

The quarterback is sacked

He is a rusher

And he is my son

No comments: