Forged on the Gridiron Anvil Mark Jon Zaharis Jr.

The night air is just cold enough to see my breath through my facemask as the familiar “clacking” of our cleats on the pavement continues to the luminescent stadium that is our haven. The once low rumble of the crowd becomes a roar as we draw near, like gladiators to the colosseum, the mob expects a show, one which we are happy to provide. I step on that field, that field which not only contains my sweat, my blood, but my heart and my soul, for it is on that field that I was forged into the person I am today.

The field is not my home: I cannot relax on the field, nor can I entertain myself with the menial tasks that others, who do not have the privilege of belonging to this brotherhood, are subject to. I cannot sit at my home for seven hours every day and rest my head from the school day that has recently been conquered, for after my time spent strengthening my mind, I must spend time strengthening my body. This, I do on the football field.

The football field not only creates a sound environment where I can stress my body, but where I can seek out the limits of my mind’s control over my body, how far I can push myself, how strong I really am. That is something I cannot test in school, and as intriguing as it is to learn about...