It was mostly adults on the cold aluminum stands, their hot chocolates and coffees in hand. Some stood, shivering, their hands buried in their pockets. The students fought for standing room along the fence that separated the fans from the cheerleaders and football players. The students rarely watched the games; they were usually blowouts. It was more of a social event for them. With the cheerleaders covered up in their winter gear and the scoreboard tight, the focus was on the game. Coach Ware shook his head, his hands on his hips, as he watched the third down pass to Dwayne fall incomplete. He was decked out in a Marauders track suit and a knit cap. Condensation spilled out of his mouth as he said, “Punt team.” He tossed his clipboard toward the bench. Carter lined up on the punt team, split out like a wide receiver. He signaled to the referee that he was on the line. He turned his head to the left, concentrating on the football in the long snapper’s hands. A Washington Heights defender stood in front of Carter, his hands at chest height.
