Gabriel let out a harsh exhale seeing his stuttered breath rise to the dark sky. His blue eyes darted to the bleachers where his parents sat. He needed to prove himself, demonstrate his athleticism, prove that lacrosse was just as good as football. When the referee’s whistle shrieked like a banshee every other sound faded. His strong tanned legs moved to incapacitate Brentwood’s defender making room for Trip, number 22, to score. He let out another shaky breath, clenching his fingers in silent celebration hoping that as the game picked up this would be enough to solidify him in his father’s eyes. He scanned the bleachers once more finding the seat that his father once filled now empty and his mother sporting an apologetic smile. _Figures, _He thought to himself. His father never missed any of Raphael’s friday night lights. But then again football was a real sport.