If has been a long year and a half sine my lat post. Getting old is not for sissy's is all I can say about why I have not posted, so here goes.
Fear is a tool. It has many purposes and comes in many shapes. The shape it took today was in the form Wendell Jammeren, know un-affectionately to everyone on the team as the Windjammer because when you lined up against him you knew he was going to blow right though you and the only sound aside from the air rushing from your lungs would be your name being muttered slowly and repeatedly from his thick lipped mouth. I am not a small guy but the Windjammer is huge and like his namesake he is prone to move in only one very fast direction at a time. Over the hammering of my heart in my ears, I could barely hear the quarterback grunted out the count, when I saw the trickle of what I thought was blood begin to pour from the Windjammers nose . . . but it was not blood, unless blood comes
I like this quote. Having played American rules football before, I know exactly what your MC is feeling. Iíd kinda like to see it moved up closer to the first paragraph...if not one of the first few sentences.
A few sentences rambled, but in particular break up the second sentence; again, because of my direct involvement with the game, I know what itís like to get brutalized like this---and especially what itís like to know youíre gonna get brutalized before the play even starts, but the length of the sentence runs the risk of exhausting the reader before he/she even gets to that point.
BTW...I captured the longer version of this story before it was clipped, and I believe the last sentence of the original version needs broken down as well.
Iíd keep reading, just to see if I interpreted correctly the hint you made at the Windjammerís situation.