Friday Night Lights, O Captain, My Captain
It’s been six years since my last blog post, so I figured it was time to write a new one. I haven’t really had a lot to say, until now. Don’t get excited. It’s nothing too earth shattering or poignant or even funny, but I came up with an idea so I started typing away. I’m not the best writer in the world, but I do enjoy it. There is a lot that goes on in my head and sometimes I need to put those ideas on paper – or in this case, word processor – to free my mind of thoughts.
I recently went to the football game at my kids’ high school. It brought back so many memories. All throughout the game I had this overwhelming sense of melancholy. Even nostalgia. Whenever I am feeling melancholic, my brain goes into overdrive, and I can’t stop thinking. Thirty-five years ago, I was a 17 year old senior in high school. That was me on the field, just like those kids I was watching. There was nothing like it. It was such a fun time in my life. Many times I wish I could go back and experience that again. It’s such a cliche thing to say, but there is a lot of truth in it. Sometimes I feel like those Rob Lowe DirecTV commercials from several years ago. I’m Peaked in High School, Terry.
I started playing football technically in 7th grade. I was one of only two 6th graders to make the football team the prior year, but I hurt my back and never played. I felt better and went out for the team again in 7th grade. I made it and was a starter. Ever year after, all the way through senior year of high school, I was a starter. I loved it. I would get butterflies in my stomach in early August because I was so excited for double sessions to start in mid to late August. I couldn’t wait. I was by no means the stereotypical “jock”. I got good grades, I never bullied anyone, and I was always respectful to teachers. I just loved playing sports. Football in particular – and I was pretty good at it.
I was looking forward to playing my senior year. We thought we would have a pretty good year. My teammate John and I were named captains. Ever since I was a freshman, I knew I was going to be one of the two captains when I was a senior. I don’t know why I knew that, I just did. It was not like in the movies where the most popular guys in school were the football captains and got all the girls. We didn’t go “steady” with the head cheerleader. That was not John and me. We were definitely not part of the popular crowd. Unfortunately for us, we went to a school where the soccer players were more revered than the football players. They were the popular guys who got all the girls and went to all the cool parties. Our soccer teams were very good for several years, and the football teams were not. They referred to the field as the Soccer Stadium instead of the Football Stadium because they were known for winning and football wasn’t. If you run into someone who played soccer during that time period, they still call it the Soccer Stadium today. I digress. I’m probably the only football captain in the history of high school to not go to a homecoming dance. The closest I came to going to homecoming was being an escort to one of the girls on the homecoming court during the school assembly naming the queen. All the captains of the fall sports got to do that. That was both nerve racking and a thrill at the same time. That was as close as I was ever going to get to the popular clique. Luckily, I was assigned to someone I knew since first grade, so it wasn’t as terrifying as I had built up it up in my head. As far as the actual dance, I went to my job at the grocery store instead. I got to stock the shelves with canned goods and mop the floors at the end of the night. Every stereotype and movie got it wrong when it came to me.
Enough of me being a social outcast and back to my memories of high school football. Game days were always fun. We either had to wear a dress shirt and tie or, if the coach was in a good mood, we got to wear our game jersey. Either way, everyone knew there was a game that night. John and I both had study hall last period, so we got to leave school early. We usually went back to his house and hung out and relaxed. At some point, I got some food and went back to school to get ready for the game.
Home games were the best. Sometimes our whole team would meet in the fieldhouse after we got dressed in our uniforms. The coaches would go over the game plan, and we would go through some drills. Other times, we would just meet outside the locker room. When it was time to leave, John and I would line everyone up and lead the team to the field. We would follow the band while they were playing. They would march us into the stadium. It was probably a ten minute walk from the fieldhouse/locker room to the stadium, and it was the coolest thing ever. Traffic would stop so we could cross the street. It was such a peaceful and focused walk. I would quietly think about the upcoming game and take everything in. Once we got to the field, it was time to get everyone in place for warm ups. John and I would run to our spots up front while everyone followed us to their spots. We would lead everyone in our stretching routine. After we stretched, we would break down into starting units and run through some basic plays. At some point, John and I would get pulled out by the referees. We would head to mid-field for the coin toss. I can’t remember who called heads or tails, but I think we would alternate each week. The coaches would always tell us ahead of time what to call and what to do if we won or lost the coin toss. After warmups were done, it was time for the starting line up introductions. The whole team would go to the end zone. Being a captain, John or I was introduced first. It was so cool to hear your name over the PA system. Once our name was called, we got to be the first person to run through the hoop with whatever slogan the cheerleaders came up with that week. When I was a freshman, I couldn’t wait until I was a senior and could do that. As each player was introduced we would all high five each other at mid-field. Once the last person was called, everyone else would run behind him and follow. They all jumped around and yelled, then went to the sidelines.
It was game time. John was more of the rah, rah yeller kind of guy, so he probably gave the pregame speech 80% of the time. He was much better at it than me. I was much more quiet and didn’t get into the yelling and screaming. Our chant was, “On 3. 1,2,3 – hit, hit, hit. We kept that chant from the previous year. The two captains the year before didn’t like, “On 3. 1,2,3, Hornets. I guess hit, hit, hit sounded more menacing and intimidating. We would play the game and won most of the time. We went 7-2 in the regular season. That was good enough to win conference and make the playoffs. After the games, a group of us would drive around and goof off. We would go to Papa Passero’s or Phillies for pizza. I didn’t learn about going to Summit for burritos until track season. Someone had the idea of toilet papering the coaches’ houses after every win. The clown of our team knew where all the coaches lived. I don’t know how he did; he just knew. It had to take some work because this was long before the internet. We would go to Jewel, and everyone would buy a large pack of generic toilet paper. There were probably 15 of us. We hopped out of our cars, went to town on their trees and were done in 10 minutes. Then it was on to the next coach’s house. Rinse and repeat.
My last football game was a State playoff game on November 6, 1987. We got annihilated. It had been several years since our football program went to the playoffs. Everyone made a big deal out of it. They even had an assembly for us. Many of the guys on the team dressed in cheerleaders’ outfits and did a routine. I wanted no part of that, but I did have to get in front of the entire school and introduce every player on the team. The game was away versus Stagg on a Friday. We got to miss school and had this big breakfast buffet at the Holiday Inn before the game. I’m convinced that’s what did us in. We ate too much food and were so bloated, slow, and lethargic during the game. We played horribly. On the bus ride home, I cried for a long time. That was it. I was never going to play again. I was a good player and a good athlete – not as good as Al Bundy at Polk High – but I could hold my own. I was 5’11 and 182 lbs. I ran a 4.6 forty. I wasn’t good enough to play Division I football or even Division II. I was too small to play outside linebacker and not fast enough to play defensive back. I was probably good enough to play Division III though. There are times that I wish I had. I was hurt most of my senior year and simply didn’t play that well. My junior year was really good. I was one of about only 3 or 4 juniors that were starters. Going into my senior year, I was written up in the local papers as one of the top players in the area. I was not. It was a very disappointing year. I had what was essentially a hairline crack along my lower back the entire season. It hurt, a lot. I had lower back problems since I was 8 years old – the same back issues that prevented me from playing in 6th grade. Playing football did not help, but I was not going to miss my senior year. I never told anyone, well, until now. My dad was the only one who knew. The coaches just thought I was not playing well, and that I had checked out. They had no idea how much pain I was in everyday. I also sprained my ankle really bad right before the second game of the year. It never healed. The trainer would tape my ankle so tight in order for me to play every week. That stupid ankle still bothers me today. My heart was not in it anymore. My body was broken down at 17. Division III schools tend to be very small. Some are even smaller than high schools. I wanted to go to a big university. I was content with watching the football games at the University of Illinois. When I was a sophomore in college, I was playing a pickup game with some guys on the Illinois football team. I was covering this one guy who was a receiver, and he couldn’t get past me. Maybe that’s why he was later converted to defensive safety. But he told me, “hey, you’re pretty good.” That was a pretty cool feeling. Looking back, I do have some regrets not going to that smaller school and playing four more years. Though, I wouldn’t have the life I have now, so I don’t dwell on it too much.
Fast forward to 2013. I was planning our 25th high school reunion. By planning, I mean I called a bar and reserved the outdoor patio for a certain date. Outside of sending a few e-mails to my classmates, there wasn’t much planning involved. A couple months before the reunion, my family and I were driving down to Gatlinburg for our summer vacation. As we were driving, I got a phone call from my old head football coach. I hadn’t seen him in several years, but we had communicated through Facebook. I don’t remember giving him my phone number, but maybe I did. Maybe someone else gave it to him. It didn’t matter; I just knew Coach wanted to talk. After the usual pleasantries, he finally got around to why he called. He wanted to come to our reunion. He said that he wanted to clear it with his captains first to see if it was okay. I’m not sure if he called me first or John, but he wanted both our blessings. I couldn’t say yes fast enough. The reunion came and Coach showed up with what basically can be described as a shrine. He brought footballs, pictures, and other memorabilia from our past. It was so cool. There were several ex-players that showed up. I think the only reason John came to the reunion was to see Coach. We had such a blast. We talked for hours. Someone brought up our toilet paper exploits. He told us he never once got mad. I think he even said he watched us. It was innocent fun and that he knew we were safe and not doing anything that would get us in trouble or hurt – i.e. drinking and drugs. He was not only a coach, but he was a dad too. He looked out for our well being as if we were one of his kids. It was the last time I would ever see Coach. We still continued to communicate through Facebook though. Shortly after the reunion, his health started declining.
After the reunion I sent him a message. I thanked him for coming and told him how much I appreciated him as a coach and how much of a positive impact he had on me and the countless people who played for him before and after me. When Coach passed away a couple of years ago, I sent his older son, who was a year younger than me and who I played with too, a note telling him basically the same thing I had written his dad. (Side note: he would TP his dad’s house. His parents were divorced and he lived with his mom. I’m not sure if he had to clean up his dad’s house the next day or not.) I’m guessing he got a lot of those notes from former players. As I mentioned earlier, John and I were named captains. The team did not vote on it like had happened in previous years. I’m not sure why we were named, but I have a theory. I’m not sure if it’s true or not, but I’d like to think it is. Coach knew who he wanted to lead his team that year and didn’t want to put it to chance, so he made the decision for the team. He told us during the first week of double sessions. John and I took it upon ourselves and already had been leading the team in the stretching routine before practice. Coach just made it official. I’m sure Coach could have named every captain he ever had. I truly believe we held a special place in his heart for all of us, It was such an honor. I’m guessing if you asked anyone else who got to lead one of his teams, they would say the same thing.
Things are so different today, but at the core are still the same. Friday nights in the fall are for high school football games. Just about every school has a student section at the home games. We didn’t have that. Kids went to our games, but not like now. At my kids’ school, each home game has a different theme. The kids dress up and go crazy. I bet there are 300-400 kids screaming and yelling throughout the game – maybe more. That’s just the student section. There is a section for the band, one for the junior high kids, and then everyone else tries to find seats. It is so fun to watch them. My niece and nephew were in from Ireland last year, and I took them to a game. They were in awe. They couldn’t believe that what they were seeing was real. They thought that what they saw on American TV and in the movies was fake. I tried to tell them that it’s what kids all over America do on Friday nights. It’s the big social event that caps off a week of school.
I hope when these kids playing today look back when they are 52 years old, they will have the same great memories that I still have. In a few weeks, most of the seniors will be playing in their last game. I hope they will have loved it as much as I did. You’re probably laughing at me reminiscing about my glory days and don’t think it was that big a deal. I get it. But, looking back as a 17 year old who loved playing football, it meant everything.
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