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Johnson stood in the rain. It was raining so hard, he couldn't see. But he had ran this play hundreds of times, he didn't need to see. He knew where everyone was, when they were there, and when to pass it. 74, that was the man he needed. The huddle was like an eternity. He wasn't gonna listen to coach, what did coach know. Coach was just a fat, rich, stuckup white guy sitting on his own ass, watching us sweat and get beat up. As far as Johnson was concerned, he himself was the one calling the shots, no one else. The whistle went off. Finally. The teams walked onto the field. It was dark now, and the rain was pouring so heavily, one couldn't see their own hands in front of their own helmet.
Approximate Word count = 530 Approximate Pages = 2.1 (250 words per page double spaced)
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