The Football FieldI crouch down and cup my hands under my bent body. I observe the battlefield and recognize the position of my eleven enemies. A million thoughts race through my mind as I decide which area to attack. My warrior paint is smearing my cheeks and my cleats sink into the frozen tundra of the battlefield. I feel like all eyes in the arena are on me as I scream my cadence. I shout the final "GO" and the warriors clash with intent to wound. Bodies fly around me, but I don't notice them, because I'm focused on one thing, marching my comrades across hostile territory and through the barricades of bitter enemies. After each of these affairs, and the traditional small talk, I go aside to ask the general about the next battle strategy. Sometimes disagreeing, but always sticking to the strategy outlined for me. I return to the group of good guys, each with a violent expression on their face, preparing for the next battle. Let's break the adrenaline-filled crowd and all trot to the front. The air is crisp and the night is outside. The lights pour onto the green playing field like spotlights on a stage. The crowd expects an exciting play from the home team and is full of confusion. The children are at the top of the hill playing soccer, imagining they are playing in front of that same rowdy crowd. Only an hour earlier I had arrived on this battlefield, stepping off the bus with my teammates. We all feel the same nervousness in the pit of our stomachs right there in the arena, infested with filthy rats in different colored shirts. Anticipating the events to come, I run up and down that magical field, gathering everything I can use to my advantage..