and you sit and sit in the cold shuddering air and then you are in the end zone , its the practice field and its fall and the air snaps in your chest and the leaves are thick on the ground , thick and wet and sticking together as you swing your legs into them and they fly up for just a few seconds and then back into the mass of leaves and dirt and a football slaps into the leaves and skids past the end line past the goal posts and toward the snow fence on the edge of the gorge and you jog over and pick it up , all slick leather and stitches , and you feel the little bumps all over it as you turn it over and over in your hands and then someone slaps your shoulder pads and you wake up in a helo shuddering over the mountains with mr. holden staring at you .