It was a Saturday night, and at Del Campo High, the lights were on for the sporting event of the century. The crowd was raucous, a sea of red swaying to the pulse of its own excitement. Ah, the high school football game -- epicenter of teenage society and highlight of your uncle’s glory days. Usually a community event, to be sure. But this time, the hearts and minds of the McClatchy faithful belonged to one individual.
With regards to his legacy, Josh “Bosh” Edwards (‘18) called his bowl a “game-changer.” As the game opened, this certainly appeared to be the case. Never had one individual more completely dominated the narrative of a team contest. #Boshbowl was competitive with #Holybowl on Twitter. Josh’s name graced legion’s sole sign and earliest chant. A paramedic stood behind the end zone, ready to attend to his victims. Will he score? The real question is when? Many had their money on his game-opening kickoff return. As Rio’s kicker approached the ball, the energy was palpable.
But from this earliest of moments onward, things went wrong. Like a lame butterfly, the kick fluttered and dove after a measly 20 yards, well short of the waiting Bosh. The football bounced off a McClatchy blocker and was recovered by the Raiders, who promptly marched down the field and scored a touchdown. We conceded possession on the opening kickoff -- a procedure that exists for the sole purpose of giving us the ball. To draw a parallel, we lost a battle during the enemy’s surrender. It was the start of a long night, and in legion, anguish was everywhere.
Rio scored again and again, perforating our defense like swiss cheese. Each touchdown was a dagger to the heart.
After a while, though, the McClatchy diehards realized defensive stops were no longer desirable, for every opposing touchdown afforded #44 a chance to return a kickoff. That’s what we paid six dollars to see! But each opportunity disappointed bitterly. Not a single kickoff was in his vicinity, and the beast that is Josh Edwards was starved. Rio Americano, you are chicken-hearted cowards!
One punt was returnable, however. Bosh caught it and charged valiantly downfield. Legion found life; cameras were rolling. The run had all the makings of an iconic sports moment. But alas! Rio defenders swarmed our returner, and through sheer numbers, dragged him to the ground as a pack of wolves would a proud stag. A hero fell.
Legion was deflated. A Jacob Forget interception resuscitated us, but only as briefly as the wind carried our baby powder. The night was over, as far as football was concerned.
But as a community, all was far from lost. At a certain point in a losing effort, you see, the fans become self-conscious. While a game is close, spectators cheer with disregard for all else, immersed in the passion of the competition. When the contest is no longer a contest, however, a sudden dash of sobriety hits. The tempest calms and people look around as if for the first time, perhaps feeling foolish for their efforts. It’s like when the lights come on after a concert, and reality sets in. No, Mick Jagger won’t sing to you forever. Cease your fist-pumping.
It's at this time, though, that the fans are detached enough to have the perspective necessary for self-deprecation. Liberated from the intensity of a close game, we can finally see the humor in our predicament. “We still love you!” shouted one fan, after a particularly bad sequence. And it was true. Legion found kinship over the blowout, and everyone had a fun time.
So how will Bosh Bowl be remembered? Crushing defeat on the field, or resounding triumph of the spirit? There was pain to be sure, but the camaraderie we found was special. Josh himself was disappointed by the outcome, but noted that “fan support was great. Shoutout to Bosh.” Shoutout to Bosh indeed. The spectacle was, as Charles Dickens says, “the best of times, it was the worst of times ... it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair.” But mostly, it was a great day to be a Lion.
It's still SO GOOD
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