Being born and raised in San Antonio, TX, football wasn't just a weekend game. My friends and I played football every day of the week and watched it twice on Sunday. Two Texas teams occupied our TV. One team wearing a Star on their helmet, with the other team sporting a rig. We spent Saturdays watching burnt orange steer or maroon and white farmers, hoping one day to sign a letter of intent to step onto those storied fields. And Friday, the main event of the entire weekend, was a night filled with the greatest sights and sounds of my childhood. The smell of freshly cut grass, the exuberance of the marching band, the rattling of the bleachers and the roaring of the home crowd. In my thirty-six years on earth, that home crowd has been in Converse, TX, home to one of the state's most celebrated and imitated football programs ever, the Judson Rockets. I grew up idolizing those guys, never wanting anything else but to play and win a championship like the teams I watched as a kid. While many