Dear and Honoured Sir,
I viewed your performance on the playing field last Saturday night – and do forgive my dilatoriness – but I do not care for writing letters prior to the game’s imminence. Such shift in my focus early in the week gives weight to the more unfortunate implements of the weekend ritual prior to their acceptable place.
In review of your playing against Utah State’s squad, dear Herr Castille, one is reminded of the vim and brio youth may bring to the gridiron. Surely your equally young compatriots on the offense – Hall, Caddell, Knight, Brown (especially Herr Brown!) – showed promise, but I was most struck by your contribution. This is because I regard the defensive backfield as the most poetic of stations, marked as it is by solitude on the edge of glorious heroism or shame.
As I once told another youth in another time, this title, this uniform, this duty, betokens a vigilant employment over and above other elements of playing and, yes, I am glad that you have this steady expressible existence with you. In the coaches’ playbooks, you are undoubtedly represented by an X, a demarcation in space, a position fixed upon our globe. Do not let this be a burden on you. I remind you: there is beauty everywhere.
I trust you will remain solitary and courageous in the contest with the Rebels from your neighboring state. May the year that lies before you preserve and strengthen you.
As is customary among your team’s adherents, I bid you Roll Tide.
I viewed your performance on the playing field last Saturday night – and do forgive my dilatoriness – but I do not care for writing letters prior to the game’s imminence. Such shift in my focus early in the week gives weight to the more unfortunate implements of the weekend ritual prior to their acceptable place.
In review of your playing against Utah State’s squad, dear Herr Castille, one is reminded of the vim and brio youth may bring to the gridiron. Surely your equally young compatriots on the offense – Hall, Caddell, Knight, Brown (especially Herr Brown!) – showed promise, but I was most struck by your contribution. This is because I regard the defensive backfield as the most poetic of stations, marked as it is by solitude on the edge of glorious heroism or shame.
As I once told another youth in another time, this title, this uniform, this duty, betokens a vigilant employment over and above other elements of playing and, yes, I am glad that you have this steady expressible existence with you. In the coaches’ playbooks, you are undoubtedly represented by an X, a demarcation in space, a position fixed upon our globe. Do not let this be a burden on you. I remind you: there is beauty everywhere.
I trust you will remain solitary and courageous in the contest with the Rebels from your neighboring state. May the year that lies before you preserve and strengthen you.
As is customary among your team’s adherents, I bid you Roll Tide.
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