Dear Julio,

I hope you’re having a good year down in Panama. The other day, I attended the varsity football game at my high school. You’ve never been to America, so you probably haven’t experienced one, have you? These games are great, not only because they offer entertainment in an otherwise monotonous and tiresome school year, but they also reflect the values of American society as a whole. The games take place at Holland Stadium, home of the Maroons. The bleak, metal bleachers contrast well with the deep green of the brand new turf field. On the hill overlooking the field stands the large brick facade of the junior high school along with its large parking lot.

About 2 hours before the game started, my friends and I arrived at the parking lot to set up for our tailgate before the game. It was a cool fall afternoon, and a slight breeze made the hair on my arms rise. Looking down onto the field, I watched the team practice before the game, the echo of the coach’s voice sounded faint from my elevated position. We parked our cars and set up the grill as the other students started to arrive. It’s a cherished tradition that is carried out year after year, much like families in America when they congregate for a feast every Thanksgiving, or when they gather around the Christmas tree every December. Together, we ate hot dogs off the grill and tossed around a football as we waited for the game to begin.

When the time came, my fellow students and I descended onto the field, paying for our tickets before we settled into the section of the bleachers designated for the students. The sun started to set, casting brilliant streaks of light onto the field as the home team walked down the stairs to the field. Those who were unlucky enough to be in the path of the football players were overcome with the distinct stench of sweat and pure adolescence. Shortly after, the opposing team arrived at the game and were quickly met with boos and scathing remarks from the crowd. As the student section filled with students, I forgot about the brisk air because of the heat radiating from those around me. The lights in the stadium turned on just as the sun plunged below the horizon. Before the game started, the crowd and players alike became silent, removing their hats and helmets to watch the flag as the national anthem played. At the conclusion of the song, both parties clapped, showing a moment of unity towards our fellow Americans, before quickly reverting back to competitors.

When the game started, the chants quickly followed. Every student at the game spoke in unison as the boisterous, deafening crowd hyped up our team while also striking fear into the heart of the opposition. The tide of the game quickly turned, and the visiting team was overrun by the number of points that were put up on the scoreboard against them. Near the end of the game, my fellow students and I began the chants that signified the final nail in the coffin for the opposition. “Start the busses! Start the busses!”, rang out from the student section as the clock expired. At that moment, I felt a sense of community among my peers in a way that is reminiscent of the sense of community Americans feel towards each other in the places they live.

This is the reason why high school football games are a staple of American life among kids growing up here. I’m sure you would love to experience one of these games, so if you ever visit me here in America, I’ll be sure to invite you to the tailgate!

Your friend,

Trevor H.