Twenty Four Hours and Four Minutes

I left the hotel at 4:00 am Saturday morning and drove cross city to our practice facility to make the 4:45 meeting time for the 5 o'clock departure.
The bus was late, and a long sleeve t-shirt, shorts, and flip flops were not enough to drive away the surprising June morning cold.
The bus arrived at 5:15 and we embarked on an eight hour ride nearly the length of Germany down to Munich.
I had an empty seat beside until the bus began to move. Then a linemen penetrated my unconcious vibe of 'seat's taken' and plopped down next to me, effectively cutting my sleeping space by two-thirds.
It seemed like just when I had fallen asleep we stopped at a gas station and I was awakened.
For our pregame meal we dined at McDonalds.
The game was played in a constant rain on a sloppy field and it was a defensive oriented 16-7 slugfest.
In the fourth quarter, Tony, our running back, my roommate, and best mate over here got horse collared to the ground. By the ancient yelp that spewed from his insides, I knew it was serious.
After the game, the offense got chewed out a bit for lack of production.
The busride home was marked by soreness, cramp space, and naked drunk Adler rookies undertaking another segment of their year-long initiation.
When we arrived back at the practice facility in Berlin at 3:30 am, my coach told me that Tony had fractured his Tibia, the weight supporting bone in the lower leg and would miss the rest of the season.
I arrived back at my hotel at 4:04 on Sunday morning and went to sleep, exhausted.
Twenty four hours and four minutes does not come close to measuring the true length of my Saturday, June 6, 2009.
At least it was not 1944.