The relentless rain pours down all around me. I’d given up on not getting wet a long time ago. The chilly water streaming down my face turns warm and salty, but it takes me a moment to realize that tears are mixed in with the rain.

I thought that I didn’t care anymore. We all did.

We had prepared ourselves to lose. We had braced ourselves against whatever utter defeat that we might have to face.

We who had had spent countless hours under the big Friday night lights. The workers, the performers, and the die-hard fans.

We just weren’t ready for it to hurt so bad.

I thought that I didn’t care anymore, but how could I not?

The sky had opened up, the field became a soggy, muddy mess, and our clothes were soaked to our bodies. I felt like our boys were the Spartans, fighting an unwinnable battle against, not just their opponents but against the doubts of their fans as well.

They were fighting so hard and at times, with the ball poised at first and goal, all I could think was ‘there is no way we can hold’em’ only to be proven wrong. How could I not care after seeing the passion displayed on the field? After feeling the current if raw emotion pass through the crowd? It’s impossible.

We hadn’t prepared ourselves to lose. We had prepared ourselves to fail. Apparently we were mistaken. We may have lost, but anyone who calls that game a failure is completely ignorant of the amount of heart put into that game.

The game was so close, and after some of the predictions of complete decimation that I had heard, it was hard to believe that losing like this could feel so much worse.

A numbness set in, and for a moment, I couldn’t breathe. I joined what was left of the student section in the middle of the field.

For a while all we could think about was how nervous and excited and overwhelmed we felt freshman year. It was only five seconds ago that we were at the beginning. Reminiscing over the past, reality really sank in.

The last season. It’s over, but I thought that I didn’t care anymore.

You can say it was the rain, but it rained Senior Night, and I was definitely more mad than tearful.

And it wasn’t triggered by some video carefully crafted to push me over the edge. No matter how many times you play “The Boys of Fall” I’m not going to cry.

Standing out there in the middle of the field, I didn’t cry because we lost, I cried because it was the end.

With sheets of rain coming down on us, I realized that this was like the perfect scene from a movie. I just wished it belonged to someone else.

I thought that I didn’t care anymore.

I was wrong.