if I was the crying type

The grass was just turning green. I sat on the cold bench, while the sun set behind the majestic rocky mountains. I looked up, then down at my helmet loosley gripped in my hands, then back up at the mountains. I slipped the hard plastic over my head, fixed the straps, and threw on my gloves.

My head raced. I struggled to focus my mind on one single thought, let alone the right one. How was I going to remember this moment? What should I do, think, say? It's my last game, God damn it, I didn't want to regret anything.

I ran, got hit and put the ball in the net, as usual. I said some encouraging words and convinced not only my team, but myself that we had a chance to win. But, in the end we lost. And that was the last time I wore the Dawson name across my chest.

I realize that's it was just another game. That the one thing that will define my time at Dawson, playing lacrosse, are the people who I've laughed with, bled with and played with. Those I lost with, those I won with. Those I looked up to, and those who looked up to me.

So here's to them; My teammates. Here's to being a part of something bigger than myself. Here's to being apart of my team.


In stretching lines before the game, because men stretch in lines.


That's our goalie, nick-o


Sam, taking someone's cockies. "Damn it feels good to be a ganster"


That's Robert...he's, well, pretty dominate when he wants to be

.
Barney ripping a shot. You're still a freshman to me.


Andrew, aka Cranky Cat. Stay on his good side.


Another epic shot of Rob.


Stevy. Run seabiscuit, run!


The seniors; Coach Aldrich, Micheal, Robert, Sam Z., Kevin, Sam C., Jared, Andrew and me.


Don't we look sharp in our new black jerseys?


My team.

I'm going to miss everything about playing lacrosse with you guys. Thanks for that. Best of luck.