“Why am I more nervous about tonight than region?” Senior Ethan Hughes said.

I could only smile and laugh nervously as I felt the exact same way. I was trembling inside that giant inflatable I’ve seen for the past four years. The loud cheers outside were nothing new for me. They could be heard bouncing off the concrete every Friday night in Memorial Stadium, except this time they would be for my family and I. 

Heart hammering, I awkwardly made movements towards the photographer. My hardworking parents, who never stayed for football games, came and joined me with my brother Brandon, who always stood in the same spot every home game. I was so nervous; my dad laughed at my shakiness when we joined arms. 

Going through that line was bittersweet. I remember the first time I walked down that field thinking how messy turf is. Now, my shoes are permanently filled with little chunks of the field. I reminisced about carrying sandbags and seeing a prop pictured with farmland fall apart in front of me. I remember being almost run over by my fellow classmates pushing a ramp down a ramp. I laughed thinking about at the very first time I saw our giant spider prop chilling next to the deflated opposing team’s inflatable. 

My feet felt light as I thought of all my past memories. When we reached our destination on the 40-yard line, I heard the normal comments from my mom wanting a photo. I only gave her a nod in return as my ears were filled with loud cheers from the band I spent four long years with. Four years of dark circle etched under my eyes from early morning zero-hours. Four years of arguments over how to pronounce Mazzio’s. Four years of suffocating uniforms, really ripped calves and permanent sock tan lines. Four wonderful years with the most entertaining group on campus.  

I was smiling, but I felt like crying too. I was so overwhelmed with gratitude for everyone in the stands. I wish I could individually thank everyone that night. From a person who gets almost no recognition, time in the limelight is rare. I realized that night that no matter how much I say, I don’t need a thank you, but it’s nice when I get one. To get kudos on this level makes me feel like I don’t deserve it. Thank you for all of the cheers from the tickled-pink seniors to the uncomfortable band and the annoyed audience that probably just wanted the game to start. Thank you for everything.