There was one spot of white on his filthy uniform. One spot of brightness that stood out amidst the dirt and grass stains. One lonely, quiet, calm spot - like the eye of a hurricane.

“We’re losin’ money, Dutch,” his boss had told him earlier. “If we wanna survive as a team, we gotta move to Detroit.”

Dutch looked around the stands. What was once full to the brim, more than six thousand cheering people, now only held 700 fans. The rest of their supporters were trying to find jobs, standing in lines to get food, or didn’t have the money to spend to go to a football game. He looked at the faces in the crowd. Old men with pressed shirts and hats, women with red lipstick and dresses, kids bouncing in their seats, excited. He could sense they hope that they had that he would lead the team to victory.

“We’re not makin’ any revenue,” his boss had said, “so we gotta figure out how to survive.”

Dutch felt the weight of the world on his shoulders. His Portsmouth Spartans were losing by a touchdown and there was only a minute left in the game. His team took the field and Dutch lined up behind the center. The ball was snapped back into his hands and Dutch dropped back two steps. He looked left but his first receiver was being covered and couldn’t break free. He looked right and his second receiver had slipped in the mud. Boom! Dutch was sacked and thrown to the ground. When he got up, he brushed he dirt off and saw that his little white island was still there.

“We’re important, Dutch. We’re important to America,” said the boss before the game. “These people, they come to watch you play. They see us win and it takes their mind off their problems. They forget that the next knock at the door could be the landlord, commin’ to collect the rent they don’t got. They forget they’re kids hungry all the time. They forget that there aint’ an end. Don’t let ‘em down, Dutch.”

Dutch lined up behind the center again. The ball was snapped and he tried to connect with his runner but the runner couldn’t gain any yards and Dutch was hit hard after the hand-off. He laid on the ground and tried to catch his breath. He rolled over, got up on his knees and tried to focus. He noticed something strange. The white spot on his pants was gone, now covered with dirt like the rest of his uniform. Dutch smiled.

He stood up and called a huddle. As he described the next and final play, he could feel his excitement. Like a phoenix, he could feel himself rising to the challenge.

“Hey, Dutch,” his teammate said, “tie your shoelace. You don’t wanna fall.”

Dutch prepared himself and the ball snapped back. He ran up the middle, dodging daring defenders. He saw the endzone line getting bigger and bigger the closer he ran. Three yards, two yards, one yard and Dutch ran across. The crowd erupted in cheers! Dutch knew everything would be okay.