The article concludes with showing the winning score for the Dearborn team and mentions that they won because they were stronger mentally by sticking to Ramadan.

The author's use of imagery is immediate in the beginning. It really helps the reader put themselves in Ali's shoes on that day.

I find it interesting that despite with what all that happen, these guys are still so serious on playing their sport. I don’t think I have that much passion or commitment to play while mourning the death of someone close to me. The rest of the team continue to play because, in a way, they're honoring the deceased men on their team. To them, they are living through their stolen lives by playing what they (probably) loved.

The way the author puts in the rhetorical questions evoke a sense of emotional appeal when you put yourself in their shoes. It gives you a small view of how these men felt when digging up their teammates’ bodies. I noticed how the word replace has the same action but different circumstance every time it is used. Usually, when you think of replacing something, it's because the 'thing' you have is bad or useless, so you bring in another thing to resolve the defectiveness. In this case, replacing someone is harder because it's not that they're bad at doing something, it's because they're gone. You can't duplicate their unique traits.

I like this question. It’s hard to replace someone and their title because it’s as if they own it. You can replace the players, but you can’t replace the unique qualities of the former men. There's a special bond between the players and sportsmanship. When someone is gone, the connection within the team is severed. It's almost impossible to create it again.