The young men playing football for Powell High School are human beings.

They’re football players, but they’re human beings who just happen to play football. Amidst the tackles, touchdowns and testosterone, I think it’s easy to forget the gridiron gangs we follow religiously on Friday nights are still living, feeling human beings.

Sometimes, in the haze of competition, I lose sight of that. But last Friday, I was reminded in one of the most painfully beautiful moments I’ve ever seen.

Riverton had just earned a tense 20-14 victory to spoil Powell’s Homecoming, the Panthers’ first without late head coach Jim Stringer in over a decade. In the last minute of the fourth quarter, PHS senior quarterback Carter Baxter was attempting to move his team downfield to complete what would have been a 13-point rally. But on fourth down, Baxter accidentally spiked the football with 11 seconds left in the game and sealed his team’s defeat in shocking fashion.

Baxter immediately realized the error, and understandably so could not control his emotions. A short time later, interim head coach Chanler Buck gave his post-game speech to the sounds of choked-back tears and muffled sobs.

None were heavier than Baxter’s.

When Buck dismissed his players, Baxter stayed behind, unable to gather himself, unable to cope with a loss he believed rested solely on his shoulders. Senior lineman Riley Stringer quickly put an end to that nonsense.

One of the Panthers’ standouts and the son of Jim Stringer, Stringer came to Baxter’s side and embraced his best friend. On the night that Stringer’s father was honored and remembered by the Panther faithful, Stringer stood tall for his broken brother.

The words that Sringer spoke to his quarterback could not be heard from where I stood. They didn’t need to be. When the 255-pound behemoth held Baxter as he cried into Stringer’s shoulder pads, I had to turn around in an attempt to conceal my own tears. I failed.

During those few minutes of compassion, Stringer became bigger than he’d ever been on the football field, and made a much larger impact than any block or quarterback sack ever could.

And it was also in that moment that real life began to set in.

Through a single act of humanity and kindness, the reality of what this season has been and will continue to be became even clearer for this writer. Here are the Panthers, a bunch of teenaged boys fighting for the memory of their fallen leader, fighting for the future of their new leader and fighting for each other. This Powell football season is as much about family and perseverance as it is about the game the Panthers play on Friday nights.

Perhaps it’s time to admit I’ve gotten wrapped up in this Panther football team.

That’s not asked or expected of me. In fact, it’s looked down on because I’m a sports journalist.

Well, I’m also a human being.