Gemotions

“You’re a natural passer, Ben,” Coach said, clapping him on the back. Ben wanted to recoil from the touch, a shiver running down his spine. The offensive line! After years of excelling as a running back, the glory of plowing through defenders, they wanted him to block? To be a sacrificial lamb.

The helmets, usually a symbol of warrior pride, now felt heavy and suffocating. The air inside the team room was thick with the smell of sweat and forced camaraderie, the sounds of shouting coaches grating on his ears. The thought of all that wasted time was even worse. Each practice felt like a humiliation, a slow dismantling of his carefully constructed ego. The thought of the season was a bitter pill to swallow.