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On a cool, brisk day in November, the air surrounding Dickinson Field was charged with energy and anticipation. This was it. This was what the fans, the players, and the coaches had been waiting for all year, waiting for for? all four years of high school. This was the Illinois state high school football semifinals. Hinsdale Central had only made it this far once in the past fifty years.
The day began at eleven in the morning. The high school parking lots began overflowing with the most dedicated and spirited fans. Trunks opened and people started to light their small grills and pop open Cokes. The air smelled of charcoal and burnt burgers, and gradually the parking lot began to fill up more and more. My friends and I, the high school students, stood around talking, laughing, and arguing about the chances of winning. The small children ran around the parking lot, and were yelled at frequently by their parents to stay away from cars. There was still an hour until the gates would open and people would rush into the stands to claim their seats. The time passed quickly, and by 110 P.M. the neighborhood surrounding the school was overcrowded with cars, and cars slowly driving down the streets hoping to find a parking spot.
It was an overcast day as my friends and I walked past our school's two football practice fields and the tennis courts. I had spent many hours on the tennis courts closest to the practice fields during my time on the team, listening to the whistles of the football coaches, drills being called, and the thumps and grunts of bodies hitting each other. As I remembered all the good times I had spent watching practice through the fence, my stomach tightened with the nervousness and anxiety as I realized this could be my last high school football game.
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My friends and I had to wait in line to pay the three dollars to enter the field. We rushed to the bleachers, hoping no one would dare try and take the front row. It was assumed that we would get the best seats. After all, we were the most committed fans and those were our friends out on the field. During the past three years of high school football, I had not missed a game. Fall passed quickly at my school because everyone looked forward to the upcoming Friday night game. When I was standing in the heat of August or the freezing air of early November with traces of snowflakes in the air, I never wanted to be anywhere else. Looking out on the field that day, I felt an overwhelming sense of pride for the players, coaches, and our school. Over the four years of high school,I had become close with many of the players, I knew most of the plays, and most of all, I knew how hard they worked to win.
My friends, who were not players on the team, were all in the stands with me that chilly November day. At first we sat all squished together in the first two rows of the student section. We were freezing and the cold metal bleachers made us even colder. Everyone's cheeks were red from the wind, but there was no complaining. I brought extra red, wool blankets and passed them around to friends that wrapped them around as many people as could fit between them. We were excited and nervous, but we knew we had to save our energy for the upcoming three hours of play. We watched patiently as the fans streamed through the gate and began to make their way up into our stands. A half hour before the game started the stands were already completely full. Police stood every fifty feet forcing people to keep walking along the aisles. I remember being in awe of all the fans that showed up to support the team. Looking around the crowded bleachers, I was startled to see the amount of fans supporting our team by wearing our colors of red and white. Spectators began to fill in all the empty grass area surrounding the field. Hundreds of people did not even make it through the gates, but had to watch from outside the fence behind the end zone, because it was the only place that they would be able to have a clear view of the actual game. There are over 15,000 people living in the town of Hinsdale, and on that fall day in November, 7,000 people showed up to watch the best high school football game in the school's history.
As the team rushed the field at precisely 100 P.M., the crowd rose to applaud. The band began playing our school's alma mater, and the crowd went wild. The cheerleaders performed in front of the student section, all the students rose and began chanting a popular cheer. "Stand up all you devil fans, stand up and clap your hands…" The bleachers shook as the fans yelled out the familiar words and clapped and stomped their feet to the rhythm. Soon, the players completed their warm-up routine on the meticulously manicured field, and the fans yelled and waved hundreds of red and white pompoms in the air in hopes of distracting our rival.
The first quarter started perfectly. After a 65-yard run, Bower, our quarterback, passed the ball to Arquilla who jumped to catch the pass in the end zone to score the first touchdown of the game with 114 remaining on the clock in the first quarter. The receiver threw the ball down and threw his arms in the air as the quarterback ran to hug him. The crowd erupted into applause and the student section began the cheer "Devils,Devils!" It was hard to remain standing because of all the wound up fans jumping up and down, causing the bleachers to shake. Although some of the nervousness faded as both the team and the fans gained confidence, everyone knew anything could still happen. Then, with 845 left in the first quarter our star running back Brian Grzelakowski ran an astonishing sixty yards to score the second touchdown. On the sidelines the players slapped him on the back as he tried to catch his breath and get back on the field. From the stands, the community of Hinsdale looked on proudly as their team took a solid advantage. Unfortunately, in the second quarter, our nervousness returned as Lockport quickly tied up the score. Our team stayed focused and soon retaliated with another touchdown. For most of the game we could not hear the announcers bold, deep voice giving a commentary of the game, but right before half time, as the players jogged off the field, I heard him announce, "And that's the end of the first half. Hinsdale has the lead, but it looks as though we are in for a tight game…"
During half time the crowds rushed to the bathrooms and concessions. I didn't risk leaving my seat in the front row, for fear of losing it and having a blocked view for the duration of the game. My dad walked past with a shopping bag full of hot dogs wrapped in foil, bags of M&Ms, bottles of water, and cans of Coke. The bag quickly ripped as my friends gladly grabbed the food and fought over who got what.
The band marched out onto the field with the color guard. We were all too anxious to pay much attention, but they succeeded in getting the crowd even more excited for the upcoming half. Then the pommers took the field and did a dance to a popular Brittney Spear's song that blasted over the speakers so loud, mostly all we could hear was static. After a twenty-minute half time, the team jogged back onto the field, looking up into the stands in awe of the crowd they had drawn. More than ever, they were determined to make it to the state finals.
The special teams took the field for the second half kickoff. Our kickoff receiver caught the ball and dodged the other players and returned the ball up to the 5-yard line. Hinsdale Central continued gaining up to the four yard line, where Bower caught the ball and ran with force and determination into the end zone. The bleachers erupted into cheering and clapping. All sound of the announcer's deep voice was drowned out by the excited screaming and jumping around in the student section.
At the end of the third quarter the tension was high. Lockport had quickly matched our touchdown by scoring one of their own.It was our ball again and we started to breathe easier, but our rivals intercepted a pass on the offensive 0-yard line, and they quickly scored another six points. By now I can remember my stomach tightening with nervousness and the realization that this game could still go either way.
For the entire fourth quarter I held hands with my two best friends, squeezing as tight as I could when the other team had the ball, or when our team was throwing a pass. These two friends had driven with me to every away game, stayed until the end of each game regardless of the score, and were as aware of all plays as any guy. Although I have never been at a game were the fans have been so focused, the fourth quarter is still a blur to me.Even the young children that usually came to the game to play under the bleachers had inched their way up between people's legs to watch the final plays. On the first-and-goal at the 4 withseconds to go, one of our star players broke up a pass in the end zone intended for Lockport's top receiver. After a second pass to a Lockport receiver was incomplete, a penalty on Hinsdale Central for an illegal substitution moved the ball to the two yard line. On the third down, Bower broke up a slant pass to the Lockport receiver in the middle of the end zone. During all of these plays, we would all hold our breath. On Lockport's last chance their star receiver made a great inside fake on our defense and cut sharply to the left side of the end zone and was able to extend his arms for the perfectly-placed pass. With three seconds on the clock, we all knew it was over. The visitors' fans rushed the field, and all we saw was a sea of people, all dressed in black and gold, the colors of the Lockport team. Our dreams were shattered.
On the sidelines our players fell to their knees and dropped their heads into their hands. Our side of the stands were strangely quiet, and when I listened closely I could hear the sobs of some of the toughest people I know. They hugged each other, but there were no words of consolation. As I looked around at my friends' faces in the stands, I saw tears in the eyes of many. Football was such a huge part of our life as Hinsdale Central Red Devils, and we all understood that this was no longer our team and our field, but now belonged to the younger players to carry on the tradition of Devil football. The realization hit us hard.
After ten minutes, the field was finally cleared of Lockport fans so the final three seconds could be played. We could tell our team was devastated, but they finished the game with good sportsmanship. Our spirits were low until we listened to all the fans leaving saying they had just witnessed the best high school football game ever. At that time, I felt better and prepared myself to console my friends on the team. They had provided me and my classmates with four years of pure fun.
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