An Andrew Mielke Original
Andrew Mielke's "Center"
Flags wave in the cool wind coming off the Atlantic Ocean. Two lines come up to the line of scrimmage. The quarter back yells, “HUT!” and the play begins. The center’s hand slips off of the ball as the blitz rushes in. A defensive man finds and sprawls on the fumbled ball.
The new offensive line lines up; the quarterback sends a man in motion... “HUT!”
The quarterback steps back and lobs the ball forward as a defenseman breaks through the line and puts him on his back. The corner looks over his shoulder in time to sink his cleats, throw his weight, and catch the wobbling football. He jukes, dodging a man rushing in on him. He then runs as if being chased by a cultivation of African mass suicide followers.
This was about the fourth time the center lost the game for his team, the Chargers.
Thursday, the day before the Chargers’s next game, a hurricane devastates hundreds of people, leaving many homeless and hungry. Fortunately, the game wasn't postponed as there wasn't significant no damage to the field.
Ben, the center that previously lost the game for the Chargers, was out with his girlfriend for their first anniversary the night that the hurricane hit. This feeling wasn't anything she's ever felt before. Of course, all she wanted was for Ben and her to live together and be happy. Ben's priorities were a little more focused on not becoming a disgrace to his football team, school, family, and friends.
The Friday night lights reflected lightly off the grass, still damp from the rain that had fallen so heavily just the night before. Ben begged with his coach about the previous game, trying to convince him it was a fluke, “Coach! Coach! I can--”
“BULLSHIT!” the coach interrupted.
“Coach! Give me one more shot, I can prove--”
“NO! What the hell didn't you understand?”
“I was under pressure! The game was--”
“-up to you! The game was up to you, and you let me down. I can't trust you not to fuck up!”
“I'm begging! Please! One chance!”
“ONE CHANCE! Fuck up, and you’ll be warming the bench for the season!”
Tension and silence were holding hands.
The coin was flipped, and the Chargers won the toss against The Voles; they picked to receive. Number thirty-five, Roy Clater, received the ball. Roy sprinted down the field for about ten yards before getting nudged and fumbling the ball. The ball was recovered by The Voles. The game was far from over.
This made Ben angrier than anyone, as the game has already started off bad. This is the game he has to win to prove himself. Without this win or at least his proof of potential, this would be the last game that he spent on the field.
Ben set up on defense, his heart beating with anger and nervousness, nervousness not to let his emotions get the best of him. “HUT!” He rushes through the line and sacks the quarterback, but this didn’t ease his pain. His anger continued to eat at his stomach like piranha.
A strong wind blew making a light pole bend slightly, but noticeably. The whistle blew, the second quarter ended, and the players, soaked in rigorous conditioning and practices, took it in for half time.
The coach entered the lockerroom, slamming the door behind him.
Once again, silence took over, but it was soon broken by the frustration of a nervous coach. “If you pussies don't want to play, go home! I don't have time for quitters.”
Everyone hung their head low; repeating the failed plays in their mind. After calming down, the coach continued. “Now, I don't want you to hurt them. No... don't hurt them. Kill them. These 'rats' don't have what it takes to bring down a Charger. Do they? No! Win the second half!”
Beginning of the third quarter, the Chargers exploded and soon scored a touchdown, but they unfortunately missed the extra point. The score was 8-6, Voles. “Why can’t we do better than this?” Ben yelled as he questioned all that he's worked for, “We need to do something drastic!”
The Chargers kicked off, and Ben dove after the ball carrier immediately and missed. He failed again. He turned around, and ran in pursuit once again. Ben chased him close to the sidelines closest to the bleachers and then out of bounds. Out of a fit of anger, he tackled the ball carrier far out of bounds, causing both of them to collide into the wodden light support, setting off a loud crack.
As there should’ve been, there was a flag on the play. Ben ripped his helmet off, furious at himself once more for hurting his team for such a bad decision. Still walking slowly away from the light pole, he only had enough consciousness left in his life to hear the sound of wood breaking off forcefully. CRACK!!!
Everyone heard the whiz of the broken piece of wood fly through the air and past Ben’s head and landing in the field behind him. He jumped ten feet in the air turning around very nervously just to look up and see the last few moments of his life crush him where he stood.
Panic. Confusion. Hearts racing. Ben’s girlfriend hopped the fence and found his body among probably six or seven others squirming, screaming, and some not moving at all.
Ambulances rush the field; patients were tagged and transported. Nature sought revenge that day through the hearts of those that underestimated its power. Ben’s girlfriend, or ex-girlfriend, slowly walked up to Ben's smashed, broken, bloody, flattened, and electrically burned body, sat down, and cried.