Personal Narrative: My First American Civil War

My heart pounds beneath the thick armor like plating that covers my chest. My shoes click and clack on the pavement like a metronome. My brothers are lined up in front and beside me, all wearing the same attire but thinking different thoughts. We march down the black road that seems to stretch for miles to the stadium, reminiscent of the gladiatorial colosseum in days of old. I can just make out our opponents, their white uniforms standing out from the green field like starlight. Our chanting rings out through the night “We are!” I bark, “United!” my brothers roar in reply. This war that we are about to wage, this battle we will fight, this is the glorious game of football.”We are!” I bellow, “United!” They wail. And this night is the very last night that I will don this blue and red armor, for this is my senior night. As we reach the field, the legion that forms our team disperses, forming five rows of ten men, we proceed to warm up in the normal fashion, jumping jacks, lunges, and other assorted stretches limber us up for the fight of our lives. My pads jostle about like gnashing teeth of a machine, ready to devour my foes. Once we are finished stretching, we disperse once again into our designated groups. I go with the linemen to practice
The coach huddles us together and fills us with courage and excitement with his words. Now five us us move to the middle of the field for the coin toss. The coin flies into the air, shimmering in the lights, and seems to hover forever, then falls back into the referees palm. The ball is ours! The kick off return forms on the field. The opposing team kicks the ball, and like a magnet, the ball plummets into my teammates hand. He reaches the fifty yard line with the help of the huge V that is formed by the line men. Now the battle back and forth for this small oval commences. The enemy fights hard, and we fight back, but they still manage to score many points on us. By half time they lead by