up-downs

So the other night i opened my window and it smelled like Camp Marist New Hampshire. It is a little hell hole 2 and a half hours away from boston. It was where we went for football camp. We went there because it is illegal to do 3 practices a day in Massachusetts , but not up there. The entire week long ordeal is something you can't really describe to someone. No one knows how tough it is to do football practice for 6 hours a day plus sessions of learning plays. There are also the intangibles of you strapping on wet pads to play in a mudbowl while your friends are daydrinking. No one knows coach Lozzi (ever see the movie Rudy? in order to get Rudy this smaller kid playing time the whole team turns in thier uniforms and won't play until he does. It is the true story of a Notre Dame football team which Lozzi played for, he was one of three guys to not turn in thier jersey. ) No one knows besides your teamates what Marist really means. It is like describing colors to the blind.