Tyler Horstman

Professor Cassel

English 1201

13 February 2019

Friday Night Beats

The ritual was always the same from the start of Monday to end first step on the field that

Friday night. Nothing changed even in the slightest, nothing could change. See for you to

understand the madness of the ritual you would need to be a part of it. Some called us crazy,

some called us obsessed, others called us stupid, but we knew what they really wanted to say.

We knew what they meant because we knew what it meant to us. We were dedicated, we were

disciplined. To really understand why football meant so much to us you need to go back to pee

wee football, back to the days were our 3rd, 4th and 5th grade football practices were harder than

anything we ever had in high school. Along with that came the music; whether you hear it off in

the distance at practice or you have it blazing through your headphones like you’re trying to let

the whole room know what you’re listening to.

We have been playing football together since we were in the 3rd grade and 90% of us had

stuck with it all throughout the years making it to our senior year playoff run. It really was like a

brotherhood for us. We may have not all been the best of friend’s, but we knew that no matter

what if anyone ever needed anything then we would be there for them. The blood, sweat, tears

and music were always there like that annoying fly you never seemed to get rid of.

One memory will always stick out in my mind, the preparation for away games my senior

year of high school. I will never forget those memories for as long as I live. The rituals were

there like clockwork, from the time the bell rang to let us out of school to the time we got on the
bus. As soon as that bell rang, we know we had to be back at school by 5:15 no matter where the

game was. Once that bell rang at 2:28 we jolted to our cars to prepare for the battel ahead. My

Friday ritual was the same all four years of high school, and when I say they didn’t change at all

I mean that with 100% accuracy.

First thing’s first, drive to the local subway and order a footlong on white bread with;

ham, turkey, pepper jack cheese, lettuce, tomato, onion with chipotle sauce. Then I would drive

over to my grandfather’s house to split the sub with him as I drank a Dr. Pepper “straight from

the can” as my grandpa liked to say. He always preferred his in a tall glass filled to the top with

ice. After I was done eating with my grandfather, I would be on my way to pick up my either

girlfriend or ex-girlfriend, depending on the year, and we would head back to my place to hang

out for a bit until it was time for me to head back to school. On my way back to school I would

drop her back off at her place and then I’d be on my way back to school to get ready for the

game. When I get back to school is when the magic really started to happen.

As soon as you step out of your car and grab your bag it was go time. You plug your

headphones in, and you zone the rest of the world out. You didn’t talk to anyone as you walk

into the school and they didn’t talk to you. The only communication you had was through eye

contact. It was the weirdest thing to because even though no one said a word we knew exactly

what each other was say just by the looks we gave.

Preparing for the game had a special feeling to it, it was as if each step was amplified

tenfold because of the beat of the music flowing through your body. It was as if the mixture of

pure excitement, adrenaline and testosterone mixed with the right playlist was the ultimate high.

Every little step you took was like a little dance just going with the beat as it coarse through your

veins. After you get your treatment from the trainer you walk into the locker room that has a very
distinct smell to it, the mixture of subway and male body odor is a smell that never leaves you

for your entire life. The underclassmen/ people who knew they weren’t playing that day knew to

hurry and get their stuff out of their lockers as fast as possible and go out in the hallway, so they

didn’t get in our way. Once you got your equipment out of your locker and your bag packed you

just sat there on the bench in front of your locker and just took this time to be in a room full of

your brother that you are about to go to war with. Still no one says anything, you just look

around the room with your headphones in just nodding your head in agreement with your brother

as if you both know what is about to happen and what needs to be done. In these moments it’s if

the music that is blaring in your head fades into the distance and you are left alone with your

thoughts and that little voice in your head. In this very moment that voice in your head is no

longer quiet, it turns into a coach yelling at the top of his lungs tell you “this is it” “this is what

we work for” “this is what it all comes down to” “let’s go” “let’s go” over and over again until

it’s no longer a voice in your head but you yelling out loud for everyone to hear. The best part

about it is that no one thinks twice about it they just join in and at that moment you know without

a doubt that these are the brothers you would go to war with every Friday night and come out

victorious every single time.

After it’s all calm down it’s time to load up the bus and hit the road. Once again to the

naked ear it’s dead silent but to the player about to play forty-eight minutes it’s nothing but song

after song after song carefully chosen the day before for this very bus ride. No matter if the bus

ride is twenty minutes or an hour long all you see as you look around are the players heads down

just staring at the seat in front of them. Nobody moves for the entire ride, everyone in the same

position. Finally, as we reach the school it’s time to grab your stuff and head to the locker room.
 As warm-ups start music comes over those gigantic speakers looking down at the field.

You would think with how big the speakers are that they would be amazing, but they aren’t. You

can hear the static with every note playing. That didn’t matter though, it was still music and it

was just enough to keep the blood racing through our veins. As kickoff time neared the music

intensified and as did we. Your chest beating faster and faster as the seconds ticked away on the

warm-up clock. Almost as if it was beating fast enough to jump out of your chest. As the clock

hit zero your heart dropped, this is it. Even the national anthem made the hair on your arms stand

up. All this anticipation, all the preparation and all of the music contributing to what you are

about to do are about to pay off in 3…2…1.