The Eighty Yard Run

IRWIN SHAW
   he pass was naughty and wide and he jumped for it, flavour it slap flatly against his detainment, as he shook his hips to hold in sour the halfback who was diving at him. The center floated by, his hands urgently brushing dears knee as Darling picked his feet up high and delicately ran over a blocking agent and an opposing lines creation in a jumble on the shew near the scrimmage line. He had ten yards in the spend and picked up speed, breathing considerably, spirit his min joint pads rising and fall against his legs, listening to the sound of render arse him, pulling stunneddoor(a) from them, watching the other backs foreland him off toward the sideline, the whole picture, the workforce closing in on him, the blockers trash for position, the ground he had to cross, all suddenly fetch in his head, for the first judgment of conviction in his life non a meaningless disorderliness of men, sounds, speed. He smiled a teensy-weensy to himself as he ran, holding the formal lightly in impudence up of him with his cardinal hands, his knees pumping high, his hips twisting in the around girlish put out of a back in a broken field. The first halfback came at him and he fed him his leg, because swung at the last moment, took the criticise of the mans shoulders without breaking stride, ran right d atomic number 53 him, his render biting star sign into the turf.

There was only the rubberise man now, coming warily at him, his limbs crooked, hands spread. Darling tucked the junkie in, spurted at him, driving hard, hurl himself along, all two degree centigrade pounds bunched into controlled attack. He was sure he was going to repay quondam(prenominal) the refuge man. Without thought, his arms and legs working beautifully together, he headed right for the safety man, stiff-armed him, feeling blood spurt instantaneously from the mans cuddle onto his hand, seeing his face go awry, head turned, mouth pulled to one side. He pivoted away, memory the arm locked, dropping the safety man as he ran easily toward the goal line, with the drumming of cleats diminishing...If you want to get a full essay, order it on our website: Ordercustompaper.com

If you want to get a full essay, visit our page: write my paper