This time of year is special. Always has been, always will be.

It isn’t because of the late-afternoon thunderstorms, though those are awesome in their fury and force and ability to grow to inhumane size, only to dissolve within minutes after throwing lightning and buckets of rain to the ground below.

It isn’t because these are the last vestiges of summer, though that is awesome, too—as the droves of part-time residents will soon be here, and both the wideopen roads and wide-open restaurants we full-timers enjoy in the summer will soon be packed to the gills.

No, this time of year is special because the bright lights are on starting this Friday night, and underneath them are scores of young athletes in brightly colored uniforms straining and striving to be their absolute best.

It is high school football season, if you haven’t heard by now. Maybe you live close enough to one of our local high schools to hear the marching bands with their thumping bass drums off in the distance. Maybe you can catch a glimpse of those bright lights on your latenight wanderings, twinkling on top of their poles like lighthouses of long ago.

High school football season is my favorite time of year, and always will be, because it represents promise and purity. Even as the rest of the world seems to careen ever closer to insanity with each passing day, high school football is just about the only remaining island of sanity.

Not that there haven’t been some less-than-logical inroads here close to home. The Florida High School Athletic Association, in its infinite wisdom, now allows prep athletes to partake in the secondary school version of Name, Image and Likeness. Born out of NCAA athletes wanting to get their slice of the pie made by their jerseys and video-game likenesses being produced, NIL in college sports now allows what used to be the in-the-shadows $100 handshakes and paper sacks full of cash to come into the bright sunshine in the name of capitalism.

How anyone with disposable cash could possibly be convinced by a future Johnny Varsity to buy a microwave or a convertible is beyond me, but that didn’t stop the FHSAA from pushing through legislation allowing said future Johnny Varsity the right to capitalize on his NIL.

Only in America. Also, here in Collier County and beyond, it is increasingly easy for high school athletes to transfer (again, just like their older NCAA counterparts) to whatever school strikes their athletic fancy. Stupid, short-sighted and suspect— but hey, only in America.

Anyway, NIL and a grade-school transfer portal notwithstanding, the vast majority of the kids under those bright lights every Friday night from now through early November are playing for the love of the game.

They play because they’ve played as youths. They play because their dads played, and perhaps football is a way to forge a stronger relationship with their old man. They play because they don’t have an old man in their lives, and subconsciously seek the paternal strength that comes from a high school football coach at the exact time in their lives they need it the most.

They play because they love the game. They play because the girls seem to pay a bit more attention when they wear their jerseys on game Fridays. They play because they can.

Whatever the motivation, whatever the cause, the result is a beautiful cacophony of sights and sounds that simply doesn’t exist anywhere else. I have been a part of high school football since I was a freshman in high school, all the way to today—from suffering through excruciatingly hot twoa- days in the summer sun to sitting behind a microphone broadcasting games. From watching my high school team lose all 10 games my senior season to covering state champions, nothing in the world beats the majesty of high school football.

I love a hot dog grilled by a band dad, I love the sometimes-offkey renditions of the Star- Spangled Banner, I love the handmade banners cheerleaders hold up for teams to charge through. I love thinking about halftime speeches made by coaches both winning and losing, watching grown men stand up and clap for their boys down there on the grass, the pure emotion that comes from either victory or defeat.

Yep, you can have your NFL multimillionaires and your newly minted college football millionaires; I’ll take 11 kids wearing my school colors against the 11 wearing yours every Friday night and enjoy the entire spectacle.

The best time of year is here. Welcome to high school football season.

Gulfshore Sports with David Wasson airs weekdays from 3-5 p.m. on Southwest Florida’s Fox Sports Radio (105.9 FM in Collier County) and streaming on Fox-SportsFM.com.