Stanislaus District football teams out to prove who runs this town

Everything comes together in the final moments before kickoff. The uniform. The body. The mind.

His cleats have been laced up, his ankles spatted. He slips into his shoulder pads, snapping them into place. Then comes the hard part. With the help of a few teammates, he squeezes into a jersey two sizes too small. The tighter the better, though. “It’s hard to tackle what you can’t grab,” he says.

He’s hard to tackle, period.

Now it’s time to get his mind right. He reaches into his locker and grabs an iPod, spinning the wheel with his thumb. Scrolling. Searching. Scrolling. Searching. Until finally…

The Blueprint 3.

Track 4.

Jay Z.

Rihanna.

Kanye West.

A Roc Nation classic.

“Feel it comin' in the air

Hear the screams from everywhere

I'm addicted to the thrill

It's a dangerous love affair

Can't be scared when it goes down

Got a problem, tell me now

Only thing that’s on my mind

Is who’s gonna run this town tonight ...

Is who’s gonna run this town tonight ...

We gonna run this town”

The music courses through the headset, exploding through the earbuds. The song has become an anthem for his season. For all seasons. Inspiring his spring workouts. Holding him accountable through the summer months. Setting the bar for the fall, which begins with a date circled in red Sharpie: Friday, Aug. 26.

Who’s going to run this town? This league? This district? This division? This state?

Each autumn, the question hangs over football stadiums across the Stanislaus District, like tule fog on the Westside or the honey-sweet haze of a barbecue in Oakdale or Escalon. The answer is forged on the field, between those white lines where warriors live out teen-aged fantasies.

Who runs this town?

He does. Good luck telling him any different. In the moments before kickoff, his anticipation bubbles to the surface, leaving him jittery and restless. He isn’t necessarily nervous, but poised and programmed like a rocket pointed toward the moon.

The locker room is filled with determined souls just like him, their bravado encased in pads and helmets. They collect in stalls and on benches, wrapping their wrists and fingers in athletic tape. A few lay sprawled out on the floor, eyes shut and fists clenched. There’s a hammer, a flag and a sword – instruments of war meant to excite the crowd. Those whose passion burns the hottest stalk the room, filling the damp and musky air with a similar sermon. Our house. Our field. Our time. Our night.

The coaches line the walls of this space, play sheets folded into the waist of their pants, lips sealed. They understand there is nothing more they can do. Their work ended with Thursday’s walk-through, and so they surrender this moment to the players. Time to see if these birdies can fly.

He bobs his head to an all-star collaboration that captures and connects, transporting him to a place of supreme confidence. The lyrics are met with visions. A zig-zagging touchdown run, shedding tacklers like a bull loose in the streets of Pamplona. An out-of-nowhere interception, changing the momentum of the game. Victory formation – the only time he’ll show his opponent mercy.

“Life’s a game but it’s not fair

I break the rules so I don’t care

So I keep doin’ my own thang

Walkin’ tall against the rain

Victory’s within the mile

Almost there, don’t give up now

Only thing that’s on my mind

Is who’s gonna run this town tonight?”

In the distance, beyond the walls, a horn sounds, signaling the end of the junior varsity game and the start of the main event. The click-clack of cleats clashing against the cement walk-up announces their presence. He and his teammates emerge from the darkness, two by two, some holding hands, some with interlocking pinky fingers. The boys playing in the grass near the fence are the first to spot them, and soon they’re running alongside their heroes. The stadium cranes its neck toward the inflatable tunnel for a first look at its football team.

It’s almost time now. Time to answer the question. Time to fulfill a prophecy. Time to show and prove, convincing the thousands that have assembled here that, indeed ...

You run this town.

This story was originally published August 25, 2016 at 4:22 PM with the headline "Stanislaus District football teams out to prove who runs this town."