Under amber skies filled with the scent of red hot dogs and steaming popcorn the crowd files into their seats with bottled anticipation just waiting to explode
Amidst the sound pads cracking with lights gleaming off of helmets whistles can be heard as the gladiators line up again, digging in for the battle ahead
On natures carpet of green and brown players battle with sweat and scar laden bodies. Inch by painful bloody inch they move as one down the field
Running to daylight and the ultimate glory that awaits them crossing into the end zone the cannon sounds and the crowd cheers, another victory
As the cannon smokes fades into the nights sky and the crowd files out into the night the heavens open up a bolt of lightning, natures flashlight can be seen off in the darkness
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