Based on Remember the Titans
Just a week ago, we loaded onto the buses and headed to footballcamp. I was sure I was going to kill one of these white boys. The waythey looked at me, like I was less than they were . . . The way theytreated us as we lined up to load the buses, I was looking forward to thefirst days of live drills, looking forward to taking the head off of one ofthose arrogant whities. I was all pro line backer last year in our allblack school, and I sure didn't feel like I had to prove myself again tosome dumb, third string scrub just because his skin was white, and mine was But before we even got on the bus, Coach let us know that he wouldn'ttolerate the bigotry that was so much a part of southern life in the1960's. He lined us up, and paired us off, black and white, big and small.I was team captain last year, and when I started to protest, coach put menext to the most cocky, ugly white boy I had ever met. I didn't what to'get to know' this whitie. I wanted my black team mates back, and an allblack team back. At least then I would know where I s
I couldn't even see straight,my body hurt, and my head wasn't awake when coach took off into the woods,and shouted back over his shoulder that anyone who got lost could just findtheir way to the highway and hitch a ride home. I wasn't any different than he was, no better, and noworse. This time, when a white hand reached out to helpme, I accepted. "Hey, man, let me help you" I looked up, and to mysurprise a white hand reached for me out of the early morning mist to helpme up. Practice for the first few days was the same as normal, drills in thehot sun, puking on the sidelines when I didn't get enough water, and pukingwhen I drank too much. Gettysburg was on ofthe bloodiest skirmished in the civil war, or so my history books had said. But coach wasn't giving a history lesson, he was talking about our warthat had started when we loaded onto the buses, and had been continuingevery minute of every day since we arrived at camp. We were killing eachother, just like the North and the South had on that battle field. On the run back to camp, I tripped over that same root, and slid facefirst down a small hill. "I don't need your help" I snarled and got back to my feet. He started talking about where wewere standing, on the edge of Gettysburg battle field. I wasn't about to give mystarting position to some white boy, so I took off after the crowd. My body gave a shiver in the cool morning, partly because of the coolmorning air, and partly in fear that coach would take off toward thathilltop.
Common topics in this essay:
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North South,
looking forward,
onto buses,
white hand reached,
loaded onto,
loaded onto buses,
tripped root,
white boy,
battle field,
hand reached,
white hand,
cool morning,
black team,
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Acceptance Essays
