Week 1.
DSFL kick off.
A packed out arena.
The tailgate is in full swing. Fans from both sides are getting to know each other before the big game, drinking and playing games. BBQ's are firing and every kind of music imaginable is playing. Security is at a minimum as it's all super amicable outside the stadium, before they enter the theater of conflict.
In the locker room, the Dallas Birddogs are getting ready. There are players jamming out to inspirational music. There's others in quiet contemplation, going through breathing exercises. There are players over at the buffet table, taking on some last minute carbohydrates. There's some throwing up in the toilets. And then there's the players listening to death metal in the corner, headbutting the walls. No matter what player you look at, you know that they all know one thing: The season opener is a must win. This is no joke to these guys. The off season training camps. The weekly preparation in the weights room, the film room, the practice field. Players are going over each practice snap in their head and recanting every bit of coaching they have received so far.
Everything in their lives so far, has led to this moment. High school football, having to play both ways just to get noticed by a division one college. Getting cramps every night due to exhaustion, then having to get up at 8am the next day to head to class. Then college ball. Your entire life under a microscope from ISFL and DSFL scouts. The press conferences before games, preparing you for the big leagues. Walking on eggshells, making sure you say the right thing.
It has all led to this.
A member of the arena staff knocks three times on the door, and Coach tells you to get to your feet, it's go time. The butterflies hit your stomach with the gust of a thousand wing beats. It feels like you are in a dream, floating towards the door and entering the tunnel out to the field. You can hear the distant cries of the crowd and the snare drum of the hip hop music playing at top volume. It vibrates your bones, and almost wakes you.
The rest of your team leave and head towards the noise, while you and two of your team mates head through another door to an alternative tunnel. For some reason it feels calmer in here. The noise is still the same, but you feel at peace. A massive structure in front of you starts to creep forward towards the field one millimetre at a time, and a woman with a headset and a clip board throws a t -shirt and helmet at you and tells you to get ready. Your brain starts to catch up with your thoughts. The cheers erupt out on the field as your comrades take the field as their names are announced.
You put the t-shirt on over your pads and it's pulled tight, squeezing on your chest. You look at the two guys with you and you recognize their faces as old friends, you trained together the entire summer at the DGX Academy in Florida. Every waking minute, getting your collective bodies and minds in peak condition. At this point, the bond you have built is unbreakable, however one of your number is missing. There is meant to be four of you. It matters naught, as you know somewhere else in the country, the person who is missing is getting ready for his grand entrance into the DSFL, and is going to create as much havoc as you three are.
You mount the massive moving structure and climb to the top, your friends either side of you, and the lights in the arena go off and plunge the stadium into darkness. A low rumbling begins to thunder. As you reach the precipice of the field, the smoke and fog machines kick into high gear, covering the grass like nimbostratus clouds over the top of a mountain. Strobe lights start to go off like flashes of lightning. A veritable storm has been created for your entry into the league. Punk rock music begins to play at a deafening volume and the tank that was moving slowly forward starts to race out onto the field. Fireworks erupt out the cannon on the front, in blue and gold flashes.
Raylan Crowder, Lionel Rumper and Sheed Thebaw enter the stadium, holding on as they zoom onto the field, and the lights come up with a dazzle.
The home crowd goes apoplectic with excitement, while the away fans boo just as loud, and the Horsemen ride in on their dark green tank with the Birddog logo emblazoned on either side. They soak it all up as the bright lights hit their faces. They thrive on the boos, and excel in the cheers. Crowder has a megaphone and starts chanting "WOOF WOOF". Rumper is waxing lyrical and throwing up various expletives to the crowd. And you, Thebaw, legs akimbo on the cannon, cracks open three tins of Pabst Blue Ribbon, feigns drinking one and pouring it all over himself, and throws the other two into the crowd, spraying them with beer.
All three take it in turns to backflip off the side of the tank, as the fireworks and strobe lights continue to go crazy. Their t-shirts and army helmets are emblazoned with “Rucker - 53”. Rumper grabs a microphone to address the crowd, and they fall silent at a moment's notice...
“I got two words for ya…..”
DSFL kick off.
A packed out arena.
The tailgate is in full swing. Fans from both sides are getting to know each other before the big game, drinking and playing games. BBQ's are firing and every kind of music imaginable is playing. Security is at a minimum as it's all super amicable outside the stadium, before they enter the theater of conflict.
In the locker room, the Dallas Birddogs are getting ready. There are players jamming out to inspirational music. There's others in quiet contemplation, going through breathing exercises. There are players over at the buffet table, taking on some last minute carbohydrates. There's some throwing up in the toilets. And then there's the players listening to death metal in the corner, headbutting the walls. No matter what player you look at, you know that they all know one thing: The season opener is a must win. This is no joke to these guys. The off season training camps. The weekly preparation in the weights room, the film room, the practice field. Players are going over each practice snap in their head and recanting every bit of coaching they have received so far.
Everything in their lives so far, has led to this moment. High school football, having to play both ways just to get noticed by a division one college. Getting cramps every night due to exhaustion, then having to get up at 8am the next day to head to class. Then college ball. Your entire life under a microscope from ISFL and DSFL scouts. The press conferences before games, preparing you for the big leagues. Walking on eggshells, making sure you say the right thing.
It has all led to this.
A member of the arena staff knocks three times on the door, and Coach tells you to get to your feet, it's go time. The butterflies hit your stomach with the gust of a thousand wing beats. It feels like you are in a dream, floating towards the door and entering the tunnel out to the field. You can hear the distant cries of the crowd and the snare drum of the hip hop music playing at top volume. It vibrates your bones, and almost wakes you.
The rest of your team leave and head towards the noise, while you and two of your team mates head through another door to an alternative tunnel. For some reason it feels calmer in here. The noise is still the same, but you feel at peace. A massive structure in front of you starts to creep forward towards the field one millimetre at a time, and a woman with a headset and a clip board throws a t -shirt and helmet at you and tells you to get ready. Your brain starts to catch up with your thoughts. The cheers erupt out on the field as your comrades take the field as their names are announced.
You put the t-shirt on over your pads and it's pulled tight, squeezing on your chest. You look at the two guys with you and you recognize their faces as old friends, you trained together the entire summer at the DGX Academy in Florida. Every waking minute, getting your collective bodies and minds in peak condition. At this point, the bond you have built is unbreakable, however one of your number is missing. There is meant to be four of you. It matters naught, as you know somewhere else in the country, the person who is missing is getting ready for his grand entrance into the DSFL, and is going to create as much havoc as you three are.
You mount the massive moving structure and climb to the top, your friends either side of you, and the lights in the arena go off and plunge the stadium into darkness. A low rumbling begins to thunder. As you reach the precipice of the field, the smoke and fog machines kick into high gear, covering the grass like nimbostratus clouds over the top of a mountain. Strobe lights start to go off like flashes of lightning. A veritable storm has been created for your entry into the league. Punk rock music begins to play at a deafening volume and the tank that was moving slowly forward starts to race out onto the field. Fireworks erupt out the cannon on the front, in blue and gold flashes.
Raylan Crowder, Lionel Rumper and Sheed Thebaw enter the stadium, holding on as they zoom onto the field, and the lights come up with a dazzle.
The home crowd goes apoplectic with excitement, while the away fans boo just as loud, and the Horsemen ride in on their dark green tank with the Birddog logo emblazoned on either side. They soak it all up as the bright lights hit their faces. They thrive on the boos, and excel in the cheers. Crowder has a megaphone and starts chanting "WOOF WOOF". Rumper is waxing lyrical and throwing up various expletives to the crowd. And you, Thebaw, legs akimbo on the cannon, cracks open three tins of Pabst Blue Ribbon, feigns drinking one and pouring it all over himself, and throws the other two into the crowd, spraying them with beer.
All three take it in turns to backflip off the side of the tank, as the fireworks and strobe lights continue to go crazy. Their t-shirts and army helmets are emblazoned with “Rucker - 53”. Rumper grabs a microphone to address the crowd, and they fall silent at a moment's notice...
“I got two words for ya…..”
"Sheed Thebaw - The Unblockable Situation"