So, this is where it ends

ROANOKE

So this is where it happens. This is where it hits you in the face like a cast-iron frying pan. Under the dim glow of the Mill Mountain Star and the take-off path for Roanoke Airport.

This is where you see it, a coach, calling his players together and giving a few parting words after a playoff loss.

“Go up to the seniors,” he tells the underclassmen, “and shake their hands.”

Promise them, Stuarts Draft coach Rod Bowers says, that you’ll keep the tradition going.

“Seniors,” he says, standing amid a down-on-one-knee group of football players, “you had an amazing ride.”

A few Cougars look up; Jeremy Fitzgerald – one of those seniors — begins to wipe away tears.

“You got us to the playoffs two years in a row,” coach says.

Another senior, Travis Shifflett, looks up at his coach, his eyes turning red before he quickly looks back toward the ground

“You have nothing to be ashamed of,” Bowers says.

The Stuarts Draft fans move from the bleachers to the field, standing along the sideline, anxious and holding back tears themselves, and waiting for Bowers to release the boys.

Not so fast. Not just yet.

It’s time to say goodbye.

And they break up, the parents stay away, looking overhead as a plane takes off from the nearby airport, then dodging a wayward sparrow that flies into the crowd at hip level before darting back into the night sky. Everybody watches as those who will be with Draft next season hunt out those seven seniors.

The first hug is Cole Beyler who grabs Shifflett and pats his back while in an embrace. Then the fans collapse inward, searching out anybody with shoulder pads on to hug. And the tears flow. Parents, coaches, teammates — they all search out the players.

They look for Cody Bridge, grab him and hold him close.

They hunt for Fitzgerald, whose lips quiver with each hug and who slowly walks away, head held in his hands.

They search for Tyler Young. They seek out Ryan Moore. They grab David Gauldin and John Stickley.

And, finally, one by one, they hold Shifflett, the oak-hard, in-your-face, tattooed fullback.

“This is the worst feeling in the world,” he says.

Losing the friends. Losing the family. Losing the ballgame. Losing the sport. All of it.

“It’s everything,” Shifflett says. “The game in general, playing and hanging around with all these friends and playing the game you love. You don’t get to do that anymore.

“It’s awful.”

Forget the scoreboard, forget the end of the season, forget another trip to the playoffs ending in heartbreak. The heartbreak would have come at one point or another for the Cougars. The season never goes on forever. The end game would have come. Never an if, but always a when.

“People who don’t play football don’t understand,” Bowers says. “They really have no clue the emotions involved in the game. You realize how painful it is to go through all you do as a player. And you leave a brother behind as you graduate.

“If you don’t become a coach, it’s over and all you have are memories.”

The embraces are over. The team trudges off the field, moms, dads, cousins, girlfriends in tow.

It’s a painful walk, you learn.

And here in the Star City, after the end game, is where you truly see what it’s all about. Here is where the memories begin as your high school career fades away.