The center approached the line of scrimmage with a smirk. The opposing line shifted into position and began to taunt him. The center could smell the hot breath of the defensive tackle. A strong gust of steamed clams, the center thought. His eyes closed at the feeling of the cold, fresh air rising up from under his face mask. The air made him feel relaxed and reminded him of childhood. The center smiled, and remembered how his older brother would come home after football practice with Neapolitan ice cream. He exhaled slowly. Steam came out of his mouth and nostrils. The defensive tackle smiled and laughed at the center. Like fire, like fire, the defensive tackle thought.

The center smiled back at the defensive tackle. The defensive tackle was a veteran player, an important player, a player that everyone in the stadium knew. A willful man. The defensive tackle smiled at the center and the center saw him smile. It was the smile of a young boy, really. It was the kind of smile that a young boy makes when he has just won a game of checkers or when he knows he has just got his brother in trouble. The center wondered if the defensive tackle had ever played football without a helmet. There's a certain vulnerability in not wearing a helmet. It creates a feeling that no matter how hard you might run or how fast you might move, there is only a thin layer of protection between yourself and the physical world. It creates a feeling that all it would take is just one hit and everything you've ever done could be swept away and forever lost. This kind of vulnerability keeps the game honest. It reminds you that you're an athlete, not a machine. It keeps you human. The center smiled back at the defensive tackle. The center thought about his father. He could not help but be reminded of how his father used to cook hot, savory deep pit barbecue for everyone after the football games. How they sat around the picnic table in the backyard and ate that savory deep pit barbecue and joked and smiled in the cold, fresh autumn air.

The defensive tackle shifted over a little, daring the center to try to block him. The center shifted his hands a little. His hands were extremely steady. One second passed. He shifted again, and shifted once more. Suddenly, the middle linebacker and the defensive end moved together to the left, taking a fellow lineman with them. The center shifted his weight to his left foot, adjusting his hands in preparation to move to that side. The center shifted his weight and used his powerful hands and legs to lean over to the left, focusing his awareness on the defensive tackle. Before the game, the center had been studying a film of the opposing team and looking for a weakness. He was specifically focused on the defensive tackle. As he was running through the play in his head, he saw the middle linebacker and the defensive end shift, and he knew he had found a way to beat them. He had found a weakness. He knew exactly what he was going to do. He saw the middle linebacker and the defensive end shift over, and he knew he had found what he had been looking for. It was like finding an Easter egg. The egg was so beautiful that the thought of cracking it open and eating the hardboiled yolk never even entered his mind. He couldn't wait to find someone to share the Easter egg with.

The center smiled, and the defensive tackle smiled back. The center looked at the scoreboard. The play clock was winding down. The center looked at the grass on the football field. The grass was soft and fresh, and the sun was shining down on it, causing a glare that made the individual blades of grass look like swords, with their tips sparkling and shining. The center moved his hand to the left and pushed. "Down, down, down, down," he thought. Laughing, laughing, laughing. Laughter is important, the center thought. Laughter is the most important thing in the world. The opposing team has the worst sense of humor. It seems childish and petty, but also threatening. Like it is hiding a true rage and hatefulness underneath. Laugh it up, the center thought. I'll be laughing when I win this game.

The center looked at the scoreboard and smiled. The play clock continued to wind down. The center could smell the hot breath of the defensive tackle. A strong gust of steamed clams. He could hear the laughter of the opposing team. The laughter of hateful losers. He could hear the defensive players taunting him. The center shifted his awareness. He thought about the quarterback behind him, and his fellow linemen at either side. They were good players. They were good players and funny men. They would celebrate after the game. They would eat pepperoni pizza and drink Big Gulps filled with Pepsi or Mr. Pibb. But for now the opposing team was there, right in front of him. Taunting him. The opposing team had always been there. Always taunting, always laughing and smiling. What had started as an ember with a few friends and a whole lot of determination had turned into a wildfire of hatred and laughter. The defensive tackle shifted, and the middle linebacker shifted, and the defensive end shifted as well. The center shifted his weight to his right foot and put his hand on the football in anticipation of the snap. Everything was set. Everything was ready. There would be no more movement. There would be no more shifting.

The center closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. He thought of the defensive linemen. He was relaxed at the thought of the quarterback behind him, at the running backs and wide receivers, at all the members of his team, as well as the defensive players taunting him. The defensive tackle was strong, but he was smiling. That smile was a weakness. The center was relaxed. He let himself exhale. Breath is important. Breath helps you win games. Breath is the difference between winning and losing. The center was laughing, laughing, laughing. When the opposing team shifted, just moments ago, the center knew, he really knew, that he had finally caught them all right where he wanted them. The middle linebacker, the defensive tackle, and the defensive end were all just a yard away as they crouched and watched with hateful smiles; as they raised and lowered their hands in anticipation of the snap, their fingers brushed against each other and against the grass of the football field.

The center waited for the right moment. When it came, he moved his hands to the left and pushed. Down, down, down, down. Laughing, laughing, laughing. The ball was snapped and the center pushed. "Down, down, down, down," he laughed.

The other players moved on, knowing that the play was over. The defensive tackle continued to smile. It was the smile that a young boy makes when he has just won a game of checkers. The center laughed. And as the center laughed he breathed in air. It was cold, fresh air.