The sun was setting over Ben Griffith Stadium. Bedraggled fans streamed out. A crunching was heard as these sad specters absentmindedly stepped upon the countless peanut shells and other detritus littering the stadium. The structure itself groaned, as if physically taking on the weight of each successive loss. Rust was everywhere. Bleachers were warped, or in some cases missing.
The son turned to his father. There were tears in his eyes. “When daddy?”
“When what, son?” replied the child’s father. He looked at the scoreboard. Half functioning, it showed a 0-62 score.
“When will the Gators win?”
Tears welled up in the father’s eyes. Win? It had been many games since they last scored. To actually win a contest was something out of dreams. It had happened once, many years ago. He remembered his father taking him to a game, where he had heard fans complaining that the Gators would only win four games. Four games. That would seem unbelievable today. Unimaginable.
“Someday, my son. Someday.”
The father and son got up and headed for the exit, while the Savannah State team remained on the field, celebrating their victory.