Son of Blanda

by Jon Friedman

Son of Blanda

A big man was Blanda Jr, Like his father. He could throw the football and whistle it through the air like his father and grandpappy before him. As yet unknown to him or others whether he could play at the pro level or not.

It was Cleveland in the Winter. The Snow pelted through the wind harshly through the thick lake air. The young gun was but in a preseason game, but he continued to throw bombs through the gale with all his strength before the game.

The crowd gawked at him, and hoped he could be a gladiator like his father before him in his hey day. The young man knew he could or risk feeling inferior for, well ever. And this to him was the worst feeling in the world.

The coach of the Browns was a big man with brown hair, brown eyes and wore a brown shirt with white stripes. The coach looked at the kid and couldn't help thinking what great things he would bring to the team, and he had never even played in a real game yet. " All he has to be is like his father, " the coach kept thinking to himself. "The pressure's off said the kid, and I will make it one day, " said the kid to himself.

The announcer continued to run his mouth as the Browns played the first game of the season. The young Blanda's ran, scrambled, threw far, threw short, threw wide, got tackled, dived and won. The cold and the pelting snow and wind from the Erie made it a unique wonder of a game.

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