Descriptive Side of You

Views are seen in different spectrums by many observers.

By isaiah cruzPublished 6 years ago • 5 min read

I've been on many fields in different States and Countries because of this Leather Oval Sphere. 

The Leather Sphere

It had been traveling as if it was on a set course passing by like an out-of-state family member visiting. The body weirdly was shaped in an oval type of look, its skin coat brown like wet dirt freshly mixed with a white rigid lace exerting down the spine with gap sizes like SpongeBob’s teeth that fingers are placed in for grip. It is stitched in to help hold and accurately place the ball. The shape looked like the head of Hey Arnold from Cartoon Network. The feel of the brown leather oval shape instrument hones like a missile chasing its target. The force could be heard coming at the rip of a whip. If you were to hear the cut of the air, it was literally too late.

It looks this way for no reason other than one purpose, which is to be carried, thrown, or caught. It's a brown bullet that’s launched into various hands to be handled correctly. The smell of the oval leather brown ball is an old memory that never left. The beginning, as it’s called when choosing the road of a football player. The smell was of the new leather interior of a car, freshly stitched with no defects or misplaced errors. Leather looked for blood and made football bloody. The combined materials that give it its durability as it leaves your hands leave you with a smooth, soft, bumpy texture that feels as if the ball has goosebumps that layer the whole ball.

This leather oval ball known as “Pigskin” created feuds amongst family and friends. These feuds—"Them Vs Us”—that are created over a Pigskin cause different outcomes as well as feuds. New friendships occur from skills being displayed, the way the mud-colored Pigskin is caught, handled, carried, and the way it's used at the highest efforts because eyes are watching. The taste is not highly recommended to anyone—as is the smell, a leather potent smell that stings your buds as well as your skin if your attention is limited and not aware of its direction.

As most things with air, over time and use, air leaves the Pigskin as a person exhales. Now Pigskins do not take long to inflate, taking in air like an overweight man with a limit overreached, even though the leather ball's aerodynamic angle is perfect. An over-pumped Pigskin is a ticking time bomb, ready to explode, as the stitching gives the ball leeway. Air bubbles get caught, making the football a dangerous projectile with a Russian Roulette theme following its path.

It’s never a good day when a pumped leather Pigskin has your name on it. Seeking an unalert contender like a sniper that’s been potentially waiting for his initial target to walk across the crosshairs to complete his day or mission, it is never a good day to be on the Pigskin's list. It creates a target—as a rich man that walks through the crowd of thieves that plot on taking your gold or lavish thing or like a human that walks through a city of walkers (flesh-eating zombies), your warm life-like smell encrypting their senses to attack and eat. The Pigskin is the gold on the field that’s plotted on, and the craved-for, fresh, warm skin which zombies want. Pain and glory are awarded to the warrior or warriors that carry this ego-driven escape amongst a brotherhood of un-familiars. You want its presence in an ironic twist, to have this oval-shaped smooth brown leather skin in your possession. The strategic battle and levels that rush at you from all directions is an exhilarating boost.

As you feel the smooth leather skin, it grips back at you like an unaware baby reaching out to feel for support. Rain is its arch-enemy, making it act and feel like a live, scale-less fish that’s been coated in a slime or soap, making it almost impossible to hold but even more satisfying when crossing the trenches into the safe zone (end zone). The stitching is methodical; precise from end to end, a cross-hatch presence in an oval that is shaped like the end of a spear. It glides through the air, skipping across the sky like a smooth rock running above the lake as if gravity had no place. In the blink of an eye, the distance it can travel tricks your mind. One moment it is slicing through the air, and with a blink, it is falling into your hands, or worse, your face.

From hand to hand, this leather oval skin has origins from different areas of the world, causing the same thing everywhere: a love-hate bond, as if it was on a set course passing by like an out-of-state family member visiting, just to see you and others for a specific reason on an unexpected day. The links and ties the sphere holds is of a willing surrender, clashing against strangers and loved ones. Time only enhances you; time only advances you. Time isn't against you, but with you, as future passionate warriors invoke your presence unconsciously.

Footsteps running to you from every angle in any season, leaving one and falling into another, are never forgotten. New pledges, who come in all shades and sizes, come to you showing you willingness, discipline, passion, resilience, strength, and sportsmanship, but most of all heart. You never keep the weak for long; like an injured deer that's been maneuvering through the night from a stalking, hungry wolf. The wolf doesn't rush but will walk you down until the perfect timing like you, peeling away the weak from the herd and you choose only the strong.

A chain's link is only as strong as the link it's connected to.

-The Guamanian Archangel