Attack the Hill
Connor ran down the streets as fast as he could. No one chased him, but
he had to get home as soon as possible. He didn’t have much time. He climbed the
stairs and knocked on the door of his old, beaten-down house in the slums of
“School…working out,” Connor quickly panted without looking at his dad.
“Boy, with all this conditioning, you’ll be great this year,” Pa remarked
and his face lit up. Connor thought about what he had to do. He was nervous and
he only had a few minutes before he had to go. He still hadn’t told
“Pa, I gotta’ go back to school. I got a race,” Connor said trying to slip in that last word.
“A what? What type of race?”
“A cross country race,” Connor said as he grabbed his bag with his jersey
and racing shoes.
“Football’s where the money’s at. Should be playing football. It’s what you’ve always wanted to do! Get a scholarship and go pro. You can’t do that in cross country. We don’t run no cross country. I forbid you to run cross country!”
Connor was stunned. “But, but…I have to! This race is huge!” Before Pa could even respond, Connor yelled, “Sorry, I gotta’ go! You gonna’ come? It’s at the park near the golf course.” And he rushed out the door.
“Hell no I ain’t gonna’ be there! Pssssh, cross country,” Pa yelled and threw his Atlanta Falcons hat on the ground. Connor barely heard Pa as he sprinted away.
Connor knew that would be Pa’s answer. Pa’s dream was for Connor to get a
scholarship to the
“Sup, guys.”
“Hey, Connor. Big race huh?”
“Yeah…for some of us it is.”
They all jumped into cars and were on their way to the meet. All the way to the meet his teammates talked about the race. He listened, but didn’t contribute. Connor thought about what his father said. He thought about the past conversations he and Pa had had about football. He couldn’t play football again and Pa denied it every single time. Connor really wanted Pa to be there so he could prove Pa wrong about cross country. “Pa don’t know nothing about this,” Connor said in his head. But he knew there was no changing Pa’s mind to come in the first place. Finally, they arrived at the site of the race.
“Wow, so many people,” Connor marveled. He swiveled his head around and saw so many different colors, each representing a different school. He could see bunches of runners all throughout the course running their warm ups together. The one person he didn’t see was Pa. Connor wasn’t surprised, but he felt a little disappointed and a little guilty. A red and black blur whizzed by right in front of Connor and sort of gave him a push to the side.
“Get out of our way!” came out of the blur. Connor stared the runners in the blur down. Red and black, red and black; Connor kept those colors in mind.
“Alright, let’s go set up our place,” Coach said. They moved to a shady spot and put up their tarp and set down their bags. Everyone rested for a while until Coach yelled, “Time to walk the course!”
The team walked and jogged along the course to get a feel for the terrain they would encounter. There was one big hill that Connor knew was standing in his way. He just needed to get over it and the rest was easy. The team headed back to where their stuff was and stretched. Connor realized there was just twenty minutes before their race started.
“Hey, you guys! We gotta’ go now!” Connor yelled with panic.
“Nah, we got plenty of time still. Calm down,” the team captain said.
There was a lot riding on this race. “How can I be calm at a time like this?!” Connor exclaimed in his mind. The team ran back and forth on the open field to loosen up. Connor felt fine physically, but mentally he was jittery. Everyone was so focused, so no one was talking. The silence only added to Connor’s tension. They walked back to the start line and got in position. All the runners waited for the gun.
Boom! and the race began. Connor started conservatively to have enough energy for Killer Hill. He was so anxious for this race and he knew that would be his downfall if he didn’t calm down. Connor started to move up slowly. After one and a half miles, he found himself with the lead pack. He was exactly where he wanted to be.
A runner wearing a familiar red and black jersey was there with him and Connor pinpointed him as a target. Together, he and his newly appointed rival raced around the base of Killer Hill. They were in a heated battle. Connor would take the lead only to have it snatched by his rival. A faint sound came from up the hill. Someone kept on yelling, “Keep it up, boy!” Connor tried to look up to see who was making the noise, but only saw trees. When he focused on running again, he panicked to see that he lost ground to his nemesis. They bent around a corner and were now spiraling up Killer Hill.
“Come on! Get up there!” the same voice yelled. Connor glanced to where it came from and only saw a stranger.
“Move up! Quick strides now! Power up the hill!” the stranger yelled at his rival. “Go, Robby, go! Beat this kid! Just be smart here!”
Connor was only about two hundred meters from the top. He was so close. But his rival matched everything Connor could put out. The two ran with the same rhythm, same stride, and same breaths. They were in sync step for step. They reached the top and turned a corner, Connor with the inside track. Connor could see the runners behind the two of them still struggling up the hill. He couldn’t count them all, but there were quite a few red and black jerseys and none of his teammates. Connor got a little nervous because he had no help, no support.
Luckily, the hardest part was done and Connor was relieved for that. Connor was still uneasy though. He could see the finish just down the hill and across the field. “This is it!” Connor thought. He was so close to winning the biggest race of his life. However, he needed to lose his competition. He sped up and, as always, his foe sped up with him. However, this time was different. Connor kept this pace going for quite a long time. Pretty soon there was no one breathing down his neck. He looked back and saw his red and black opponent twenty meters behind.
Connor lost his focus and tripped on something. With all the momentum he had built up, he fell flat on his face. He was down on the ground and some runners pushed him back down. Others just ran around him. No one would help him because they didn’t want to lose ground. Connor tried to get up, but his right ankle screamed with pain. “It’s just a sprain. I can run through it,” Connor told himself. He struggled to get up. He tried to build up his confidence in his ankle by walking and then jogging. Connor got up to full speed again and felt really good, except for the ankle. He tried running as fast as he possible could. “I have to do this,” was all he thought as he pushed through the pain.
As he sprinted down the hill, Connor stepped down hard with his right foot. Connor felt a pop and a snap and his right foot gave out under him. He collapsed to the ground and screamed with sheer pain. The back of his right foot felt as if it was hit by a baseball bat. He couldn’t bear to look at it, but thought blood would be spewing out of his ankle. Yet no one seemed to hear him. Everyone was at the finish line. Connor was alone on the top of the hill writhing in pain. He saw nothing. He heard nothing. He said nothing. He blacked out.
Connor could suddenly see himself at eight years old on the football field he used to play on. Back then, he had a future in football. He could see the play that changed his life happening again. He had the ball and was running down the sideline. He had to stop to avoid a defender in front of him. He didn’t see another coming from the side. The side defender hit him low, with his helmet on Connor’s knee. The knee gave in and bent inward at an awkward angle. He felt a pop in his knee and then a flood of pain. The last thing he saw was everyone rushing towards him. The last thing he heard were screams.
After getting surgery for his knee, Connor could never play football again. He never wanted to. There was too much trauma to overcome. However, Pa kept on pushing Connor to try to play again. Pa said Connor should just get over it and stop being a baby. He pressured Connor into trying to play football each year. Connor just couldn’t bring himself to do it. Every time he tried to cut and change direction, he winced from the fear that it would happen again.
All of a sudden, Connor was conscious again and being lifted up by someone. “I gotcha’, boy,” a man with an Atlanta Falcons hat said. Connor was in too much pain to look up. The man started to walk forward without a word.
Who was he? Where did this man come from? Where were they going? There were so many questions to be asked, but there was even more pain. All Connor could think about was the pain in his leg. Nothing else mattered.
“Where we going?” was all Connor could say.
“We gonna’ finish this.”
And together, they walked down the hill and to the finish line.