Gemotions

The weight of the helmet felt heavier than usual, pressing down on his temples. The coach’s words, "We need your speed at corner," echoed in his ears. He was accustomed to the calm of the middle, the safety net of the backfield. Now, he’d be exposed, vulnerable.

He tugged at the straps, his fingers fumbling with the unfamiliar adjustments. The familiar camaraderie of the huddle seemed distant now, the cheers of the crowd a distant hum. His throat felt dry, his voice a whisper when he finally spoke.

The snap of the ball, the roar of the crowd, the charging players – it all felt overwhelming. He tried to focus, but his vision blurred, the green field swimming before him. He kept his eyes on the oncoming player, but he couldn't stop the tremors that wracked his arms.