Standing At the Precipice
There is a distinct smell to the grass in this glorified arena. Soon, a hundred thousand people will fill this stadium and bask in the aroma. This smell will trigger the memories of battles past, both the glories of victories and the heartbreaks of defeats. The people and this stadium have been through a lot together.
A warrior stands at the precipice hours before the people will fill it. The fresh cut releases a pleasant aroma in the air, and the cause is fitting, at least to this warrior. You see, when grass is sliced to fractions of its original self mercilessly by a sharp blade whirring 300 times per second, it releases the aroma as a cry for help. Quite literally, it is the smell of defeat.
Just as my opponents will smell tonight.
This warrior enjoys the fresh corollary, taking several deep breaths with his eyes closed. The smell pleases him as it reminds him of home, one of the few things in this realm that does so. He pictures home, and let’s his mind drift thinking of all the people and places he misses.
As he opens his eyes, he becomes focused, his mind visualizing the battle ahead, and how the heads of his victims will roll. Not quite literally, of course, despite how a helmet looks bouncing across the grass after being dislodged from its owner. For this warrior’s battle is football. His name, Alex Anzalone.
His name in this realm, that is.
You see Alex Anzalone is the earthly alter ego for Thor of Asgard. The last few years this realm we call earth has needed special attention from the gods. For what, we’ll get to later. For now, Anzalone has a football game to attend to. Mortals in need of gridiron defeat.
These mortals come way of Kentucky, a place which neither Alex nor Thor has never graced his presence with.
Surely an insignificant place, then, Thor thinks.
Two groups of mortals take to the aromatic field. There is now a deafening roar to go along with the smell. Flashing orange and white jerseys whip around the field while Alex watches, for it is not yet his turn to participate in the battle. His allies are successful in their first march, getting to scoring territory, only for Pineiro the Kicker to push the oblong away from the uprights.
Fucking kickers, Alex thinks, but then catches a glimpse of something peculiar about Pineiro the Kicker as he comes off the field. He was there and then he wasn’t. A shape shift of some sort.
Loki! The trickster! How dare he interfere with this righteous battle?! This is my conquest!
Alex wanders over to Pineiro and checks him out. He looks confused, and has no idea what happened. This is the real Kicker. Loki has already receded. A confrontation between Loki and Thor has been postponed.
This is the best part of Earth.
Alex takes to the field, adrenaline coursing through his veins like Mjolnir responding to Thor’s call. All fired up with otherworldly excitement, Anzalone flies around the field in a white rage.
As he comes off the field, he realizes what he has done.
I think I might have overdone that one.
Alex promises to himself to be a bit more earthly throughout the rest of the game.
His fellow warriors made no such promise. Quincy Wilson, son of warrior Chad Wilson, acrobatically snagged an imprudently confident pass down the field. In Asgard, Q would have ripped the head off of the pass thrower and put it on a stick for all future pass throwers to be warned of any repeated attempts with such imprudence.
Pineiro the Kicker proves Loki-free on his second attempt, transferring all frustration from his mind to his foot to the upright oblong in front of him that sails half the field. The success brings the Orange and Blue three points, to total 17, while the Wildcats of Kentucky are stuck with zero.
They are stuck there for a while, all the while the Gators of Florida score many a points, effectively ending this battle earlier than expected. Much to the chagrin of Anzalone, he is removed from the game early only to see the Wildcats (what a stuuuupid name) score a meaningless touchdown to evade a zero point performance.
Alex’s goal is to never let that zero change. From start to finish of each contest, the opposing team deserves no points, no first downs, no yards, no celebrations, no joy, no happiness, no life. At the same time, he cannot reveal his true self to this realm quite yet. There is a great evil that sleeps close to here. When that evil awakens, Thor will emerge from Alex and triumphantly pummel it deep into the ground to never be heard of again.
Until then, these 90,000 orange and blue clad humans will cheer with great exuberance of his and his fellow warriors smaller triumphs, such as this one.
