Dakota v. Reds–Quick Overview

  1. Friday- October 8th 2017

I bought the ticket, I took the ticket, and it’s safe to say the ride was definitely worth the price of admission. Having entered the game late into its running time, I could tell by the look on ticket woman’s face she knew more about the outcome of this event than I, certainly. This fact didn’t discouraged me, however, there’s no going back once the ticket is torn and your money is already tucked into a small register just waiting to be buried beneath the lose bills of the twenty some people waiting patiently behind you. So my associates and I no longer willing to hold the line in a passive aggressive halt, marched on to the beat of band. To the stadium, we traveled, paved in silver and discarded trash; coated down its back, a sea of the black and screaming. This was to be Dakota High school’s final home game, that night’s theme: Blackout!

“The crowd is already going wild!” some faceless, black donned, student yelled, and he was right, I could see why as well.

“We’re already neck and neck with Chip!” I told the nearest ear, “This certainly is one of the biggest rivalries around here!”

Neck and neck—7 to 7 and two hours until it was over. The crowd, as expected, was riled up–there’s a reason we’re called “the Cougars.”

We made our way from the bottom to the student section of the bleachers, to get a better view of the catalyst of the carnage.

Time bleed on, soon the clouds did too, and with the rain only came more madness as the opposing side scored on and on; leaving us in the dust as they doubled, then tripled their points. The student section, all the while, growing more and more enthusiastic, cheering on their peers alongside the rain drenched cheerleaders, rallying to the songs of the band and the girls dressed in black, glittered with stars and diamonds, some with fire arms in hand, others with flags painted with the blood of america and cascading around, slitting the cool air.

27-CV

7-DHS

30-CV

7-DHS

It was a marvel to behold and it stayed like that until we laid at the point of no return: 37-Chip 7-DHS

The rain began to lift a bit from a ferocious thrashing, to a gentle rapping.

The game was over, Dakota had lost, the bleachers no longer alive with the sounds of 1,000 beating toes; it no longer had a pulse, I exited the stadium, shook Ron Roberts hand, and my associates and I made our way back into the night.