The Play

First you hear the "set, hate, hate,"
the ball was snapped you're starting late.
You step forward to pick up speed
and see 1-2, that's your QB.
You rush real hard, your arms in place;
grab the ball, hit what's his face.
Turn your body to the right;
drive him back with all your spite.
You finally fall, your fight's not over,
the pile up is yet another.
Whistles blow and movement ceases
as the others rise, pressure releases.
Now you stand, jog to the huddle
cause of you, you're in the muddle.