I believe in blood. The red stuff inside, everyone’s true color, everything on the inside; what keeps a person going. Blood keeps me going.
It seems after every football game, I’m bleeding somewhere on my body. There has been blood on my big toe, blood coming from my chin, a fingernail, or even eternally from my heart. A few occasions I’ve lied to myself and even referee’s that I was not bleeding, knowing all alone, my skin had cracked open and leaked the fluids that fuel my body.
One game a referee called. “Hey five, number five, is that blood? If so, we have to get you out of the game”. I anxiously responded “Not at all, not me, check the other players”, all while hiding the fear of getting caught in my eyes. Another game my bottom lip swelled and bled so bad I felt I was a vampire of some sort quenching for blood. I assume if I saw myself in a mirror I could see what my teammates and opponents saw, a kid that looks like he just finish playing wit his mom’s lipstick or on the tootsie part of a cherry tootsie pop.
Hah, oh the fun, the excitement, the thrill. I’ve come to feel as though I’ve failed if I do not bleed during the game or take off my uniform without a crimson stain. I look at my scars, and I take pride in them. I see the blood as a symbol of hard work. Hard work will cause bleeding. Hard work will show through a cracked surface and shine with notice. Hard work will accomplish many obtainable goals with belief, persistence, and the will to not throw the towel in.
With football, I will bleed. With school and life, I will bleed. I’m dedicated to bleeding. I’m dedicated to working hard. I believe in this, and I believe in blood.
If you enjoyed this essay, please consider making a tax-deductible contribution to This I Believe, Inc.