[HAIL PIKEVILLE!]

After I read the first post above, I wanted to share this with you guys. I am an old Cumberland Redskin and I wrote this last August when I knew that the Maroon and White would never take the field again. I live close to the high school and one August morning I was getting ready to cut the grass and heard the HS band practicing and I went inside the house and wrote this little story. I hope you guys like it.


The Drums of Autumn
You feel it don’t you? That little twinge on the back of your neck, telling you that the first autumn chill isn’t far off. Or was it that distant drum beat that let the memories come flooding back. As sure as the dog days of August return, the hopes and dreams of another season comes with them, the hope that one more time we will play for more than pride; this is the season that we will play for a shot at a championship. The dream that once again we will call down the thunder, and our name will be feared and respected, that the ghosts of past players and coaches will linger for one more magical moment in the cool night air and tip the scales in our favor.
You begin to smell that familiar aroma of the grass in those hot summer mornings and it takes you back to another time, many, many years ago. Sweating in the heat of a July morning, listening as the quarterback calls the play in the huddle, waiting for the linebacker to make a defensive call moments before the ball is snapped, trying your best to make it through one more wind sprint without stopping. Then as summer turns to fall you can remember pep rallies on Fridays, those nerve racking final moments before the opening kickoff, the butterflies in your stomach almost coming up before the first snap, then everything falling into place after the first good hit. You will always remember that feeling of the block that sprung a long TD run, delivering a crushing tackle behind the line of scrimmage, the stinging of a bitter loss or the unspeakable joy of a come from behind win. Those long, hot summer practices and cool Friday nights all seem to run together now, the drums of autumn gone before you could really enjoy them.
Years later as you walk through the parking lot, you hear the reminiscing of old teammates, your old heroes talking of glory years long gone. You remember watching them as you grew up, dreaming of becoming like them when it was your turn. Familiar faces greet you and ask if you remember a certain game or play from years ago, you smile because you do; they still haunt your dreams and thoughts even though many Friday nights have passed since. The sounds and smells of the walk to the stadium fill you up as you breathe it all in, and let it out. Arriving early, you get to experience the tried and true traditions of the team drills and warm ups, the same ones you went through to long ago. Another chill runs down your spine when the hated rival of many years takes the field, and in your mind you know it was no different from when the armor clad Knights of old marched onto the field of battle and sized up their opponents. In the distance you hear that drum beat again, as the band makes it way to the stadium, and for a moment you know what it felt like to hear the ancient war drums, and the anxiousness that dwelt within each warrior as they prepared for the fight. As the drums draw closer you can feel the tension rise in the air, as one by one they file into the stadium in their beloved school colors to play the fight song and the National Anthem. The captains meet at midfield and the coin toss only delays what has been days and months of anticipation, you hope to win the toss so your vaunted defense can take the field and quickly squash any dreams or notions the opponent has of winning this game. As the defense is introduced you swear that you can almost hear names of long ago heroes being called, and for a moment you strain to hear your name called as well. You remember the faces in the huddle, the unity, the same willingness to get the job done no matter what and smile, hoping that they share the same desire and drive to win at all costs. The chill in the air means the season is finally here and you hope that they realize that those hot summer practices and cool Friday nights won’t last forever, and that before to long those drums of autumn will only be a memory for them as well.
By:Brandon Howard

That was AWESOME!