Dwyer 1

Non-Fiction 3,429 Words Dream Come True In Middle School, I remember seeing poster with slogans telling me that if I believed in something I could achieve it. On the last day of eighth grade, I had a biology teacher prophesize to my teammates and I that we would win a State Football Championship. Four years later, I would gain some understanding towards the meanings behind those posters and my teachers inspiring words. My teachers name was David Schwab. He was the first person to bring solar power to a house in Milbank, SD. People in the community thought he was a genius and wanted him to run for mayor. Mr. Schwab was the type of guy that instead of raking up all the leaves on his lawn in the fall, he would just mulch them. His process never failed in making the grass on his lawn a little greener than his neighbors. I remember his words on that last day of class. He was all smiles when he said, I cannot wait see you guys in the dome. Mr. Schwab could have been more specific with the words he had chosen, but my teammates and I had understood. The dome was what people from Milbank called the State Football Championship that takes place in Vermillion, SD at the Dakota Dome every year. We also knew that if he did see us there it was going to be because we would have won the game. The summer after eighth grade ended and freshman year came. I had been working hard training with Mr. Schwabs words in my head. When football season arrived, I was ready to give anyone watching a glimpse of what was to come. The positions I played were linebacker and offensive lineman. In my mind, I was the perfect head hunter. When I was playing, I would get this hunger to collide with anyone wearing

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an ugly jersey that did not look like mine. Being that I was only 6ft tall and 175 pounds, I still had something to prove to my coaches and varsity teammates. I did not start varsity for the Bulldogs that year, but I did see a lot of playing time. The season ended with a 5-4 record and no state championship. I had not forgotten Mr. Schwabs words. Because of hard work and dedication, I had managed to secure my position on varsity for next year. My teammates and I would continue training throughout the winter and summer. We were hungry for our next chance at a championship. By the beginning of sophomore year, I had put on 10 pounds of muscle and was feeling explosive. I had become the starting left guard on the varsity offensive line and the extra linebacker that played when we switched defensive fronts from a 4-3 to a 3-4. I remember being excited about having to compete with kids that outweighed me by 50 pounds or more. I was not afraid of anyone who stepped onto the same football field as me. When I suited up with all my armor, I became a gladiator and the football field was my arena. My sophomore season ended with a 6-3 record and a district title, but still no state championship. It had been a growing year for the team. I still had Mr. Schwabs words stuck in my head. Next season, I would take over starting on both offense and defense. It was going to be another grueling offseason, but my teammates and I knew we had to improve our speed and strength if we hoped to make Mr. Schwabs prophecy come true. I was ready to give it everything I had in order to make a run at a state championship as a junior. Football season came and it was time to suit-up again and prepare for battle. I fought all season long leading the team in tackles. My hunger for a championship was driving me to transcend my gladiator mindset from the year before. I now imagined myself becoming like

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Achilles. I was determined upon entering Troy and returning home with Helen. Similar to Achilles death, my teammates and I would also fall before we made it inside the gates. Ending my junior season with a 5-4 record, I had seen another round of senior play their last game as Bulldogs. Our head coach gave the seniors the same speech every year. He would tell them things like, The sun will rise tomorrow, and, Time is the only thing that heals. I had heard his spiel more times than I cared. I was determined to never have to end my career as a Bulldog hearing that crap. I still had not lost faith in Mr. Schwabs words. I was going to have a happy ending. I spent winter and summer rallying my teammates to get into the weight room. There were 11 of us that would be seniors. We had become a brotherhood over the last three years. All of us bound by the same goal. Our minds focused on one common thing that we were going to make happen. Milbank had never won a state football championship in its history. The closest any team had made it was runner-up in 2005. The same year Mr. Schwab made his prophecy. My mouth could not stop watering at the possibility of being on the first team from Milbank High School to win a state football championship. Everything lined up perfectly for me my senior year. Everyone that had been in Mr. Schwabs classroom that day in eighth grade was now starting on varsity. All of us had been training hard and were in the best shape of our High School careers. I had gained 35 pounds in the three years I had been playing and now weighed around 215 pounds. My physical improvements combined with three years experience made me feel powerful. The cherry on top of it all was that my teammates had voted me a team captain.

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The first game that year was against our conference rivals the Sisseton Redmen. They hated us and we hated them. Over the past three years of playing them, I noticed that things always got a little too intense. Usually, somebody would end up hurt and miss the rest of the season. This would be one of those games where you did not want to be on the bottom of the pile for fear of what could happen when the refs did not see you. The game went back and forth. We were bruised and battered by the end of the third quarter. In the fourth quarter, we managed to score two unanswered touchdowns and conquered our rivals 37 -23. There was no better way to start out our dream season than winning the first game and beating our rival on their own field. The celebration would not last long. Our next opponents on the schedule were the West Central Trojans. They had been the team that ended Milbanks perfect season and left the town with a runner-up trophy in 2005. West Central was consistently a contender for the championship trophy year after year. The game was brutal. I was flying all over the field chasing down ball carriers and blocking assignments. They punished us for being overconfident in our abilities and unsound in our technique. We lost the game 55 -20. One senior ended up getting hurt and now we were down a kicker and wide receiver. The Trojans had dominated us and it had hurt more than just our bodies. Our confidence was shook and Mr. Schwabs words seemed out of reach. Next on the schedule were the Roncalli Cavilers. They were a private Catholic school from Aberdeen, SD. I still had a bad taste stuck in my mouth from the week before, but I tried to forget about what happened and prepare for the game ahead. Roncalli was another team that was good every year. If we were going to beat them and get back on the right track, we would have to overcome adversity and rise above our last defeat.

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The game was neck and neck until the final moments. We lost another wide receiver and safety to injury midway through the game. My teammates and I fought with all the remaining willpower we had trying to avenge our fallen brother. We were winning 21-20 with around two minutes left in the game. Then everything fell apart. Roncalli marched down field and got into field goal range with less than a minute on the clock. They lined up and kicked the ball over the corner of the goal post. It looked like the kick had missed its target and went too far to the right. The referee that was supposed to make the call looked around for reassurance before he signaled the kick was good. We had lost the game 23-21and I felt robbed. I have gone back and watched the game several times trying to analyze that field goal. As far as I can tell, the kick missed the post. Not that it matters now, but it certainly mattered at the time. Our dream season was crumbling and we were starting a downward spiral that was threatening to tear the team apart. The Groton Tigers would be the next opponents we would face. They had a punishing quarterback and linebacker named Sam Thorson. After losing two games, I wanted to beat Groton and make Sam Thorson hate playing against me. This game would be a slug fest and I was ready for a fight. My wounds still stung from the salt that had been poured into them the week before. The game was indeed a street fight. They injured our running back in the second quarter. Poor kid hyperextend his wrist and went into shock. I was making life hell for Thorson, but, consequently, he was doing the same for me. I respected the guy. He was a warrior spirit like I was. We were the same except on different sides and that had made all the difference. It was 14 14 going into the fourth quarter. Groton ran a trick play near the end of the game and had a wide receiver throw a pass to Thorson in the end zone. It was hard to tell if Thorson had actually

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caught the ball or if it had bounced off the ground. After a few moments of deliberation, the referees called it a touchdown. We had lost again 21 14. What hurt the most was that after watching the tape it was easy to see the pass had bounced off the ground and into Thorsons hands. We were devastated. One more loss meant that our hopes of a playoff game were gone. We were on the brink of collapse and needed to have faith now more than ever. We needed to believe we could still make Mr. Schwabs prophecy come true. With an unsatisfying record of 1-3, we prepared for our homecoming game against the Redfield Pheasants. We had to win to save our season. It was time to find out what we were made of and if we were the champions we thought we could be. Before the game, I told my teammate that Redfield would not win because we would not lose. I had hoped to light a fire in my teammates hearts that could only be quenched by a victory. The biggest obstacle in our way was that Redfield had a bruiser of a running back named Cameron Pudwill. He was a big boy built like Marvels Juggernaut from the X-Men series. You could tell he wanted to win by looking at him. The game was close for the first quarter. We were doing so well the Redfield players were starting to get angry and play dirty. Pudwill and I clashed all game trading blow for blow. He hit me so hard one time my left arm from my shoulder to hand went completely number for a couple of plays. We won the game 29 -7 and suddenly every bruise and injury we had suffered was worth it. I would go out that homecoming night and dance knowing we were just getting started with winning. We had a date with destiny and we were not going to miss it for the world.

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The next challengers on the schedule were the Britton-Hecla Braves. The Braves had been playing well all season and we were lucky enough to play them on their homecoming night. It was ironic, but I figured we would be the ones dancing at the end of the night. The game took place on a field of mud covered in snow and ice during a blizzard. It was sloppy and reminded me of a game of backyard football. I felt like we were playing against two opponents. On one hand we had the Britton-Hecla Braves and on the other hand there was Mother Nature. I did my best to channel my inner Viking an overcome both the Braves and the cold. Rising to the occasion, my teammates and I won the game 22 -14. The victory was sweet. We were turning around our dream season and pulling ourselves out of the downward spiral we had been sinking into. Our record may have been 3-3, but we had all the confidence of a 6-0 team. Driven by Mr. Schwabs words now more than ever, we marched on ready for whoever was unlucky enough to have to face us next. Our next victims were the Duel Cardinals. They did not stand a chance against the maroon and gold wave coming their way with all the momentum of Tsunami. We pummeled them 35-0 and it felt good. With another victory under our belts we were beginning to pick up speed. The team started giving off the vibe that we were too strong to fall apart now. With our relatively unimpressive record of 4 -3, we prepared for our last game of the regular season against the Webster Bearcats. Webster had not beaten us in the last three years, and I did not see any reason to let them start now. They only had one really good player named Logan Storley. He was a wrestler by nature, but he was not a bad quarterback or linebacker either. As much as I respected Storley for his athletic abilities, He might as well have put a price on his head. If you were good enough for me to know your name, I was determined to make your day hell. From the first quarter to the fourth, Storley and I clashed like titans.

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The game was fast and brutal. We destroyed them 47 13, but no matter how hard we hit them they hit us right back. I admired Websters heart. No matter how bad things looked, they continued to fight on as hard as they could. It was like they had seen the movie 300 too many times and refused to ever really accept defeat. With the end of the fourth quarter, we had managed to win our last game of the season and were now hosting a first round playoff game at home. Milbank had never lost a home playoff game under Coach Jeremy Tostenson. It was now that we could feel Mr. Schwabs words coursing through our veins and into our hearts. All things were lining up again and destiny was pulling us along for the ride. We had dedicated our entire high school careers to making a state championship happen and now we were four games away. For our first playoff match-up, the Dell Rapids Quarriers would be our opponents. During my high school career, we had lost to the Quarriers in the first rounds of the playoffs two times. I had seen many of my friends end their football careers in Dell Rapids. I had decided that it was time for some of the Quarriers to end theirs in Milbank. The game was a beat down. Whatever expectations Dell Rapids had of winning were shattered soon after we scored three unanswered touchdowns in the first quarter. They had walked into a nightmare they were not ready to handle. We smashed and charged our way to victory 35 -6. The game was a testament to how far we had come since our 1-3 start. Instead of falling apart we had become a force to be reckoned with. After the game, we waited to hear who had won the game between West Central and Sisseton. If the Trojans had won, we would have to go to West Central for our next game. If the Redman won, Sisseton would have to come to Milbank. It was tough to decide which one was

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the better option. I wanted revenge against West Central for earlier in the season, but playing our rivals Sisseton in Milbank would also make for an interesting game. Fate made the decision that we should face Sisseton in the second round of the playoffs. They would be out for more blood this time and still soaring high off taking out West Central. This game was more intense than its counterpart had been at the beginning of the season. We had both drawn lines in the sand and neither of us was giving any ground. After four of the most intense quarters of football, we defeated the Redmen 21 -14. We had made it to the semi-finales. The Todd County Falcons were the only team standing in the way of our dream game. From what I had heard, their football division was not as competitive as the rest of the ones in the state. It looked like we were going to have a cake walk into the championship game. The day of the game arrived and the stadium was packed. Almost everyone who lived in Milbank must have been there to cheer us on. It was the last game I would ever play at A. B. Campbell Stadium. I played less than five minutes of the whole game. Wanting to prevent me from getting injured before the championship game, they pulled me in the first quarter and brought in my back-up. We ended up beating the Falcons 63 12 in the third quarter because of a mercy rule. We had finally made it to the only game that mattered; the one that everybody played to win. We were set to play the St. Thomas More Cavaliers from Rapid City, SD for the championship. They had not been defeated all season and were the favorite to win the game. With a big quarterback, fast wide receivers, and a powerful running back on the roaster, the Cavaliers were looking to score a lot and often. After watching game tapes of St. Thomas Mores offense at work, I was reminded of the Germans Blitzkrieg technique during World War II.

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Ever since that day in eighth grade, I had been preparing for this game. Mr. Schwabs words had inspired me. He had been the apple and I was Newton understanding gravity for the first time. My very belief in what Mr. Schwab had told my class that day set in motion a series of thoughts that became the events unfolding before my very eyes. Faith and dedication to the process of hard work were the keys that had unlocked my destiny to play and win this championship game. I stepped onto the field that day possessed. I could smell St. Thomas Mores fear from the first snap of the ball. At that moment, I exploded and pancaked my first Cavalier of the game. Every loss, every injury, every doubt, and every fear I had known in the last four years was brought out and destroyed in the form of St. Thomas More football players. For four quarters, I let go to my animal nature. We were savages and relentless in our destruction of the hopes and dreams of the Cavaliers. They had come up against an unnatural force that had been inspired to believe in itself and stood in control of its own destiny. We had given every fiber of our existences and we had won 34-20. Time stopped for us as we hoisted our trophy high for all to see. Maroon and gold flooded onto the field all around us. It was in the sea of people that I saw him. Mr. Schwab was standing there smiling. The circle had been completed. Mr. Schwab had inspired us by believing that we would do something great and in return we did do something great.