Nose Tackle

The mud caked on the bottom of his cleats made his feet feel heavy as he walked from the huddle to the line of scrimmage and took a knee, waiting for the Blue offense to break huddle.  His rain-soaked jersey clung to him as if it were painted on, and his teeth chattered against his mouthguard as a stiff wind battered the young lineman.  Cold was an understatement - until the offense approached the line.  As he took his three-point stance, he shot a steely gaze at the opposing center and emotion boiled over, warming him to the core.  The ball was snapped; he let out a fierce roar and attacked the Blue line as if trying to defeat the source of the cold itself......