Friday, August 1, 2014
In the center of Sentinel Stadium, Coach Carriel strides among rows of fully suited players. "Today..." he has his pure white visor on, along with a pair of aviators, "...is the first day of pre-season conditioning. Stretch it out, boys!" His skin is tan, and a bit wrinkled. For a 50-something year old grouch, he wasn't looking too old, even after spending the last 11 years out in the sun in what seemed like constant anger and passion. These years were definitely stressful for him, but no doubt they were fulfilling. After serving on the coaching staff for the Broncos, he was glad to be head coach at his alma mater.
Why does he need both? Rafa was at the head of the pack with couple other seniors on either side of him, leading stretches. He was still in awe at the freshmen. They were the top recruits across the nation, and definitely had some size on the graduates. He spotted Bustamante, the supposed defensive prodigy from Houston. Right behind him was McKenna, a sizable guy he'd be watching hard throughout the preseason. I guess all these motherfuckers have some fantastic high school story.
Rafa leaned a bit right towards Adam, his choice running back. They both locked down their starting positions Sophomore year, and shared a love-hate relationship ever since. In fact, they've become fairly friendly, even if it was just a superficial friendship based of their commonalities as jock douche bags. "Yo, Adam. It's preseason. Ready to lay out some freshmen?" He had a tone of cockiness, with an undertone of curiosity. Drills were always a great way for Rafa to start off a season. It was the only time he could actually deliver some hits, even if it was just during practice.
The sun stood directly overhead, and the heat beat down on them. The bleachers seemed like mountains surrounding them, but not even they could provide the slightest bit of shade. Today's the day. We'll see what these bitches are made of.
In the center of Sentinel Stadium, Coach Carriel strides among rows of fully suited players. "Today..." he has his pure white visor on, along with a pair of aviators, "...is the first day of pre-season conditioning. Stretch it out, boys!" His skin is tan, and a bit wrinkled. For a 50-something year old grouch, he wasn't looking too old, even after spending the last 11 years out in the sun in what seemed like constant anger and passion. These years were definitely stressful for him, but no doubt they were fulfilling. After serving on the coaching staff for the Broncos, he was glad to be head coach at his alma mater.
Why does he need both? Rafa was at the head of the pack with couple other seniors on either side of him, leading stretches. He was still in awe at the freshmen. They were the top recruits across the nation, and definitely had some size on the graduates. He spotted Bustamante, the supposed defensive prodigy from Houston. Right behind him was McKenna, a sizable guy he'd be watching hard throughout the preseason. I guess all these motherfuckers have some fantastic high school story.
Rafa leaned a bit right towards Adam, his choice running back. They both locked down their starting positions Sophomore year, and shared a love-hate relationship ever since. In fact, they've become fairly friendly, even if it was just a superficial friendship based of their commonalities as jock douche bags. "Yo, Adam. It's preseason. Ready to lay out some freshmen?" He had a tone of cockiness, with an undertone of curiosity. Drills were always a great way for Rafa to start off a season. It was the only time he could actually deliver some hits, even if it was just during practice.
The sun stood directly overhead, and the heat beat down on them. The bleachers seemed like mountains surrounding them, but not even they could provide the slightest bit of shade. Today's the day. We'll see what these bitches are made of.