The high school playoffs are over and the state champions have been crowned. Congratulations to all of you who won a state championship but also congratulations to all of you who guided and mentored young men this past season. High school coaches are taking a little time off (maybe) and the college bowl season is getting under way which makes this Bowl Season, right? Well, yeah, I guess it is but actually it’s a much more important season. It’s Christmas Season. For the next couple of weeks or so we will all be busy with family activities and the business of Christmas. To Chiefpigskin.com and all of you coaches out there I want to wish you a very Merry Christmas and Happy New Year.
This season is to be a season of Joy. Webster’s dictionary defines joy as happiness or delight. I get much joy from my wife and children, but I am getting new joy in my grand children. They are truly a delight. And if I turn on the television and see a football game (or almost any sport for that matter) I get some joy from that. But I was reminded of some simple joys by Mike Heiniger, Pastor of Crossroads Church in Monticello, Illinois and with his permission I’d like to share them with you. I believe some of these apply to coaches and teachers particularly well. Mike called them simple joys and the bible has much to say on the subject.
1. Timely words. Proverbs 15:23 says, “A man takes joy in giving an answer, and a timely word – how good that is!” (HCSB) Not only is it good for us to give encouraging words but it is good to hear timely words. Think of the simple joy you give to your family, players and others with an encouraging word.
2. Timely looks. Proverbs 15:30 tells us, “A cheerful look brings joy to the heart; good news makes for good health.” (NLT) Think of it, just a cheerful look can bring joy. The impact of good news and a cheerful look can’t be taken lightly. Too often I have had a somber face, too stern. I need to heed the advice of Proverbs and give a warm smile and nod of encouragement as I greet those around me.
3. Generous gifts. Acts 14:16, 17 remind us that “In earlier days God permitted all nations to go their own ways, but He never left himself without a witness. There were always His reminders, such as sending rain and good crops and giving you food and joyful hearts.” (NLT) We too can make joyful hearts with our generous giving. How often have you given away a good gift and had your heart warmed? The receiver and giver are both blessed with joy.
4. Joy of Jesus. No matter what, you can’t take Him away. He’s always with us. Jesus said, “I have loved you even as the Father has loved me. Remain in my love just as I obey my Father and remain in His love. I have told you this so you will be filled with my joy. Yes, your joy will overflow!” John 15:9-11. (NLT) And Hebrews 10:34 says “When all you owned was taken away from you, you accepted it with joy. You knew you had better things waiting for you in eternity.” (NLT) And finally, how about 1 Peter 1:8, 9 which tells us “You love Him even though you have never seen Him. Though you do not see Him, you trust him; and even now you are happy with a glorious, inexpressible joy. Your reward for trusting Him will be the salvation of your souls.” (NLT) Now that’s something to be joyful about.
Remember the simple joys you can bring to your athletes and students. As coaches we cannot overestimate the influence we can have over those around us. Use timely words, a cheerful look, and be generous, whatever that looks like to you. May the Lord bless you and your family this holiday season and grant you the simple joys!
Tuesday, December 21, 2010
Thursday, December 9, 2010
One on One
When I was a little boy around 6 or 7 years old I loved playing one on one. But wait, isn’t that a basketball game? Nope. Not the way we played it. Our one on one was football and I’m sure others of you played it in some form too. I can’t believe my buddies and I were the only ones in America that played this game. How about two on two, three on three, four on four, four on five? Or how about one against all which we called “kill the man with the ball”. You name it, it’s just good old fashioned backyard, sandlot football.
Actually, I would play one on one all the way up to when I was in high school if I could find someone to play against. As a young boy I was enthralled with running with the ball trying to avoid tacklers, tackling the guy with the ball, piling on, the smell of the grass and dirt when you hit the ground, the smell of the leather football and best of all – getting dirty. I could go home with dirt all over me and grass stains on my jeans and when Mom demanded to know what happened, I just said, “I was playing football.” Although I’m sure she still wasn’t happy, she didn’t say anymore.
I don’t know how you guys played one on one, but here’s how we did it. The yard was the football field. A small tree on each side, or a thrown down rag or shirt served as the goal line. We didn’t need a kick off; we would just start on the “twenty”. The guy with the ball would snap it to himself and run right, left, or straight ahead. The defensive guy would line up anywhere he wanted but generally right over the guy with the ball. Kind of like a nose guard over the center, except in this case the center was the ball carrier. When I was the offensive guy I snapped it to myself and usually tried to just veer left or right. I liked running hard at a 45 degree angle and trying to pick up four or five yards as I was being dragged down. With four of these gains in a row, a twenty yard drive could be achieved and a touchdown! Of course, if you were playing a tough kid, he would limit you to about a one or two yard gain. In this case I would have to be more creative. I might pull out my end run, where my first two or three steps were flat, and then I’d try to beat him around the end with quickness. I was a little guy so sometimes I could make this work. If I could hit it real quickly, sometimes my end run would break to a big play and a TD. My next play was when I would snap the ball, take a hard step left, plant, and run back hard to my right. It was my “fake left, go right play”. Of course, we call that a counter play as big boys. This could also turn in to a big play. Defensively I liked lining up like a nose guard although we didn’t call it that. Heck, I didn’t even know what a nose guard was. As my opponent started his play I just hit him around the waist or thighs, wrapped up with my arms, and dragged him down. I got pretty good at tackling and used this technique all the way through high school. Come to think of it, I can remember the high school coaches “teaching” us to tackle. I guess I wasn’t very coachable because I tackled my way. No one needed to teach me how to tackle, I could tackle anyone! Arrogant little rascal, wasn’t I?
When it came to two on two, which also was a great game, the center would hike it to the quarterback. The center would block or go out for a pass. Defensively we would line up with a nose guard and a linebacker right behind him. Another option was a two man line on defense, but someone had to cover the center if he went out for a pass. How many hours could I play these games? How many hours are in a day? Three on three, four on four, it didn’t matter, we would make it work.
As I look back now I realize that this is how football should be played when you’re a kid. Adults just get in the way. We didn’t want to do drills when we were ten years old and stand in line waiting to block a dummy. We didn’t need some old guy thinking he was Vince Lombardi trying to get us in shape by running sprints. We ran all day long, why did we have to get in shape? We just PLAYED THE GAME! For hours.
Here I am now fifty years later and guess what? I’m still figuring out ways to stay involved in football. I enjoy sites like www.chiefpigskin.com so that I can stay close to the game. I’m not sure how many little boys still play backyard football. I hope they do and I hope they invent their own versions of football. That’s what makes it fun.
Actually, I would play one on one all the way up to when I was in high school if I could find someone to play against. As a young boy I was enthralled with running with the ball trying to avoid tacklers, tackling the guy with the ball, piling on, the smell of the grass and dirt when you hit the ground, the smell of the leather football and best of all – getting dirty. I could go home with dirt all over me and grass stains on my jeans and when Mom demanded to know what happened, I just said, “I was playing football.” Although I’m sure she still wasn’t happy, she didn’t say anymore.
I don’t know how you guys played one on one, but here’s how we did it. The yard was the football field. A small tree on each side, or a thrown down rag or shirt served as the goal line. We didn’t need a kick off; we would just start on the “twenty”. The guy with the ball would snap it to himself and run right, left, or straight ahead. The defensive guy would line up anywhere he wanted but generally right over the guy with the ball. Kind of like a nose guard over the center, except in this case the center was the ball carrier. When I was the offensive guy I snapped it to myself and usually tried to just veer left or right. I liked running hard at a 45 degree angle and trying to pick up four or five yards as I was being dragged down. With four of these gains in a row, a twenty yard drive could be achieved and a touchdown! Of course, if you were playing a tough kid, he would limit you to about a one or two yard gain. In this case I would have to be more creative. I might pull out my end run, where my first two or three steps were flat, and then I’d try to beat him around the end with quickness. I was a little guy so sometimes I could make this work. If I could hit it real quickly, sometimes my end run would break to a big play and a TD. My next play was when I would snap the ball, take a hard step left, plant, and run back hard to my right. It was my “fake left, go right play”. Of course, we call that a counter play as big boys. This could also turn in to a big play. Defensively I liked lining up like a nose guard although we didn’t call it that. Heck, I didn’t even know what a nose guard was. As my opponent started his play I just hit him around the waist or thighs, wrapped up with my arms, and dragged him down. I got pretty good at tackling and used this technique all the way through high school. Come to think of it, I can remember the high school coaches “teaching” us to tackle. I guess I wasn’t very coachable because I tackled my way. No one needed to teach me how to tackle, I could tackle anyone! Arrogant little rascal, wasn’t I?
When it came to two on two, which also was a great game, the center would hike it to the quarterback. The center would block or go out for a pass. Defensively we would line up with a nose guard and a linebacker right behind him. Another option was a two man line on defense, but someone had to cover the center if he went out for a pass. How many hours could I play these games? How many hours are in a day? Three on three, four on four, it didn’t matter, we would make it work.
As I look back now I realize that this is how football should be played when you’re a kid. Adults just get in the way. We didn’t want to do drills when we were ten years old and stand in line waiting to block a dummy. We didn’t need some old guy thinking he was Vince Lombardi trying to get us in shape by running sprints. We ran all day long, why did we have to get in shape? We just PLAYED THE GAME! For hours.
Here I am now fifty years later and guess what? I’m still figuring out ways to stay involved in football. I enjoy sites like www.chiefpigskin.com so that I can stay close to the game. I’m not sure how many little boys still play backyard football. I hope they do and I hope they invent their own versions of football. That’s what makes it fun.
Sunday, November 28, 2010
A Vanishing Breed?
The Multisport Athlete
The high school football playoffs are wrapping up in most states and will be wrapping up in the next week or so across the country. Congratulations to all who participated this year in high school football whether you went 10-0 or 0-10. Just by participating and finishing shows dedication and commitment to a common goal. I truly congratulate and admire all who played.
Now that the season is over, I’m sure that all young men will be hitting the weight room hard. I realize how important year round weight training has become. I had been a big proponent of year round weight training before it became mainstream. However, it is my hope that as many as can, will participate in a winter sport and then a spring sport. I believe it is possible to lift and play a sport at the same time. It always bothered me when one of my athletes would say he is going to concentrate on lifting and skip a winter sport. We had a system in place where a young man could do both and I hope many of you do as well.
I realize that the two or three sport athlete is a vanishing breed, particularly in the larger schools where kids “specialize” more. There are many good arguments to that philosophy. But there are some compelling arguments to the multi sport philosophy as well.
• For starters, it allows an athlete to excel in another area other than, say, football. He may find he is even better in another sport. Why deny someone that opportunity?
• Secondly, he is competing. I liked my athletes to compete, to reach down when the game, match, or race was on the line and find out what they’re made of. This only comes in competition, not in the weight room. I remember when I was coaching the offensive and defensive lines in football and I was also the head wrestling coach. We were going through a stretch of four consecutive 9-0 regular seasons and I could look out at the defense and regularly see seven to nine of the starters on the field on a Friday night were my wrestlers. They were tough kids, tough athletes, not just football players. I thought that was pretty cool.
• Thirdly, athletic skills can be honed while playing another sport. Playing basketball can enhance ball handling and catching skills as well as plenty of running and conditioning. Wrestling can help with balance, pushing, pulling, one on one toughness, and great overall conditioning. Track is great for working on an athlete’s speed, very important to football. Let’s not forget too, that practicing for another sport involves a daily commitment, whereas lifting is generally three times a week.
• Fourthly, it prevents becoming stale by playing two or more sports. The newness of another sport can be refreshing and give a hunger to another sport as one is away from it. Finally, playing multi sports is fun for most young people. Let kids be kids when they want. It needs to be fun, or we may lose some of our athletes from experiencing the many benefits of playing sports.
Thanks again to www.chiefpigskin.com for allowing me to share. I hope you are all utilizing this great resource!
The high school football playoffs are wrapping up in most states and will be wrapping up in the next week or so across the country. Congratulations to all who participated this year in high school football whether you went 10-0 or 0-10. Just by participating and finishing shows dedication and commitment to a common goal. I truly congratulate and admire all who played.
Now that the season is over, I’m sure that all young men will be hitting the weight room hard. I realize how important year round weight training has become. I had been a big proponent of year round weight training before it became mainstream. However, it is my hope that as many as can, will participate in a winter sport and then a spring sport. I believe it is possible to lift and play a sport at the same time. It always bothered me when one of my athletes would say he is going to concentrate on lifting and skip a winter sport. We had a system in place where a young man could do both and I hope many of you do as well.
I realize that the two or three sport athlete is a vanishing breed, particularly in the larger schools where kids “specialize” more. There are many good arguments to that philosophy. But there are some compelling arguments to the multi sport philosophy as well.
• For starters, it allows an athlete to excel in another area other than, say, football. He may find he is even better in another sport. Why deny someone that opportunity?
• Secondly, he is competing. I liked my athletes to compete, to reach down when the game, match, or race was on the line and find out what they’re made of. This only comes in competition, not in the weight room. I remember when I was coaching the offensive and defensive lines in football and I was also the head wrestling coach. We were going through a stretch of four consecutive 9-0 regular seasons and I could look out at the defense and regularly see seven to nine of the starters on the field on a Friday night were my wrestlers. They were tough kids, tough athletes, not just football players. I thought that was pretty cool.
• Thirdly, athletic skills can be honed while playing another sport. Playing basketball can enhance ball handling and catching skills as well as plenty of running and conditioning. Wrestling can help with balance, pushing, pulling, one on one toughness, and great overall conditioning. Track is great for working on an athlete’s speed, very important to football. Let’s not forget too, that practicing for another sport involves a daily commitment, whereas lifting is generally three times a week.
• Fourthly, it prevents becoming stale by playing two or more sports. The newness of another sport can be refreshing and give a hunger to another sport as one is away from it. Finally, playing multi sports is fun for most young people. Let kids be kids when they want. It needs to be fun, or we may lose some of our athletes from experiencing the many benefits of playing sports.
Thanks again to www.chiefpigskin.com for allowing me to share. I hope you are all utilizing this great resource!
Sunday, November 14, 2010
Tenth Game -- Fourth Quarter
It was the tenth and final game of the season, the fourth quarter, two minutes to go in the game. We were up 20-0 and had the game in hand. As I stood on the sidelines watching my teammates put the game away, I thought I heard my name called. Grant! Grant! The coach WAS yelling my name. I hustled up to my coach and looked up at him, afraid to even think it. Coach McDermott looked at me and nodded toward the field, “Get in there at left corner.” I sprinted out and yelled at the starting corner, “Summerville! I’m in for you.” He gave me a slight smile and jogged off the field. I lined up in my position as the Bergan Trojans broke the huddle. I felt like Rudy. I was in the game!
Now why would I be so excited getting in some mop up duty for two minutes? Well, it was the first time all season that I had been put into a game. Yep, tenth game, fourth quarter, two minutes to go. I had not played one down of a game all season. I was in my first year of organized football, my freshman year at Woodruff High School. You’re probably thinking that I must have been really bad. Maybe I was but I didn’t think so. Actually, I was a pretty decent little athlete. LITTLE being the key word. I was about 5’ tall and weighed 95 pounds. I guess the coaches figured I was too small to put in a game. I never asked them. I knew I could play if given the chance.
One thing I could do was tackle. I would stick my nose in there and get in on any play that I could. I had a little quickness but wasn’t as fast as most of the bigger, stronger players. I was able to outrun all the linemen but not most of the other backs. My fun came being on the scout team in practice. I always lined up in the secondary against the number one offense. Every Tuesday and Wednesday I got to play defense. Heck, to me, football was football and I looked forward to playing on the scout team. I never got one rep on the starting offense or defense so this was my time to PLAY. As I said, I could tackle. My technique was to stay low (which was easy for me) and hit ‘em at the knees. If the initial hit at the knees didn’t bring them down, I hung on around the ankles with all the tenacity I had until they finally tripped up or the reinforcements came to finish them off. Every night I would bring down our biggest and best. The coaches would all chuckle and smile and point at me. One would usually say, “Nice tackle, Grant.” I was always hoping my work would get me a shot. I went to practice every day, never missed a one and was never late.
When the first game came I was so eager to play. As the game went on I stood near the coaches waiting to hear my name called. We won that first game 20-0 but I didn’t get in. The second game I again waited excitedly to hear my name called as the game wore on. I don’t recall the score but I didn’t get in. This continued through games three, four, and five. By game six I no longer waited to hear my name called. I just became a spectator and tried to enjoy being a part of the atmosphere. I was still having fun in practice, I told myself. Tuesday night I would get to play against the starters. By that tenth game I had no thought of getting in at all. I was in my routine of being a spectator and watching us get that 20-0 lead. With two minutes to go I was probably thinking of what I would do the rest of the day. There was always a good college game on TV.
I was startled out of my daydreaming by the sound of my name. After reporting in to Coach McDermott, I was headed toward the field. I hurried in and joined the huddle. The call was made, we broke the huddle and I readied for my first play. Bergan broke the huddle and I looked at their alignment. No wide receiver on my side so I tightened up. As the quarterback started his cadence I was thinking, “I don’t care where this play goes but I’m getting in on the tackle.” The ball was snapped and it was just like practice. Here they came, right at me. It was a sweep right and the ball carrier was running right at me. I stepped up to meet the play as I saw things develop, set up in my low stance as he got closer and at just the right time – BOOM! I lowered my shoulders into his knees and down he went in a heap. My teammates were all slapping me on the back yelling my name, the coaches were laughing on the sideline and I was feeling like an all American. The next play here they came again. Same scenario, same play, and I was confident it would be the same result. As I hit his knees, I could tell I didn’t get a good hit. It was a glancing blow. I missed. I never missed! I couldn’t believe it. I scrambled up quickly and pursued the ball carrier down the field. My heart sank as he crossed the goal line. Time had pretty much run out. I think they kicked off to us and that was the game. I had mixed emotions. I had made a solo tackle but given up a score on my side. I waited a long time, but I got in.
Years later, when I became a high school football coach, do you think I figured out ways to get kids playing time? At the varsity level it wasn’t always possible but at the lower levels I made sure that no one was going to wait until the last game and the fourth quarter. Thanks once again to www.chiefpigskin.com for letting me tell my stories. Good luck to those of you still playing in the playoffs.
Now why would I be so excited getting in some mop up duty for two minutes? Well, it was the first time all season that I had been put into a game. Yep, tenth game, fourth quarter, two minutes to go. I had not played one down of a game all season. I was in my first year of organized football, my freshman year at Woodruff High School. You’re probably thinking that I must have been really bad. Maybe I was but I didn’t think so. Actually, I was a pretty decent little athlete. LITTLE being the key word. I was about 5’ tall and weighed 95 pounds. I guess the coaches figured I was too small to put in a game. I never asked them. I knew I could play if given the chance.
One thing I could do was tackle. I would stick my nose in there and get in on any play that I could. I had a little quickness but wasn’t as fast as most of the bigger, stronger players. I was able to outrun all the linemen but not most of the other backs. My fun came being on the scout team in practice. I always lined up in the secondary against the number one offense. Every Tuesday and Wednesday I got to play defense. Heck, to me, football was football and I looked forward to playing on the scout team. I never got one rep on the starting offense or defense so this was my time to PLAY. As I said, I could tackle. My technique was to stay low (which was easy for me) and hit ‘em at the knees. If the initial hit at the knees didn’t bring them down, I hung on around the ankles with all the tenacity I had until they finally tripped up or the reinforcements came to finish them off. Every night I would bring down our biggest and best. The coaches would all chuckle and smile and point at me. One would usually say, “Nice tackle, Grant.” I was always hoping my work would get me a shot. I went to practice every day, never missed a one and was never late.
When the first game came I was so eager to play. As the game went on I stood near the coaches waiting to hear my name called. We won that first game 20-0 but I didn’t get in. The second game I again waited excitedly to hear my name called as the game wore on. I don’t recall the score but I didn’t get in. This continued through games three, four, and five. By game six I no longer waited to hear my name called. I just became a spectator and tried to enjoy being a part of the atmosphere. I was still having fun in practice, I told myself. Tuesday night I would get to play against the starters. By that tenth game I had no thought of getting in at all. I was in my routine of being a spectator and watching us get that 20-0 lead. With two minutes to go I was probably thinking of what I would do the rest of the day. There was always a good college game on TV.
I was startled out of my daydreaming by the sound of my name. After reporting in to Coach McDermott, I was headed toward the field. I hurried in and joined the huddle. The call was made, we broke the huddle and I readied for my first play. Bergan broke the huddle and I looked at their alignment. No wide receiver on my side so I tightened up. As the quarterback started his cadence I was thinking, “I don’t care where this play goes but I’m getting in on the tackle.” The ball was snapped and it was just like practice. Here they came, right at me. It was a sweep right and the ball carrier was running right at me. I stepped up to meet the play as I saw things develop, set up in my low stance as he got closer and at just the right time – BOOM! I lowered my shoulders into his knees and down he went in a heap. My teammates were all slapping me on the back yelling my name, the coaches were laughing on the sideline and I was feeling like an all American. The next play here they came again. Same scenario, same play, and I was confident it would be the same result. As I hit his knees, I could tell I didn’t get a good hit. It was a glancing blow. I missed. I never missed! I couldn’t believe it. I scrambled up quickly and pursued the ball carrier down the field. My heart sank as he crossed the goal line. Time had pretty much run out. I think they kicked off to us and that was the game. I had mixed emotions. I had made a solo tackle but given up a score on my side. I waited a long time, but I got in.
Years later, when I became a high school football coach, do you think I figured out ways to get kids playing time? At the varsity level it wasn’t always possible but at the lower levels I made sure that no one was going to wait until the last game and the fourth quarter. Thanks once again to www.chiefpigskin.com for letting me tell my stories. Good luck to those of you still playing in the playoffs.
Saturday, October 23, 2010
Autumn Fall Mornings
I absolutely love the fall, particularly October here in the Midwest. The colors of the changing leaves, the cooler air, and maybe best of all, the high school playoffs are just around the corner. Of course, www.chiefpigskin.com is all about high school football, and it’s an exciting time of year, but there was a long period in my life I enjoyed another sport in the fall besides football. Cross country. Yes, cross country. Now what’s an old football coach doing writing about cross country?
Well, it’s like this. I had three daughters, Angela, Olivia, and Natalie, who ran cross country in junior high and high school. They were spread out enough in age that they all went through high school separately. That’s at least twelve years of watching cross country meets. I couldn’t go to the meets during the week, they were right after school and I was coaching at football practice. But I could make their Saturday morning meets and that’s what I did. My daughters were really sprinters and excelled at track, earning some place medals at the state meet, but used cross country as a way to stay in shape in the off-season. It was good for their physical conditioning as well as mental. I’ve always taken pride in how tough football players are but I’ll tell you something, cross country runners have to be mentally tough. That three mile race is a grind and they run hard. My daughters were solid team members and always ran in the top five of the team. The Saturday meets were usually large invitationals and a lot of fun to watch. The atmosphere was completely different than Friday night. Friday night football was always intense, hard hitting, emotional, and draining. It was under the lights, cool, and the game lasted two hours. A cross country race lasts about twenty minutes and the atmosphere is pretty relaxed most of the time (unless you’re a runner). It gets a little intense at the finish, especially for a parent.
On a typical Saturday my wife and I would get up around 7:00 a.m. for a 9:00 a.m. cross country meet. Most of the meets would be around thirty to forty five minutes away. It was usually a bright, sunny, crisp fall morning and we would be out the door by 7:30. On the way to the meet, we would stop and get some coffee to go. Ahh, tasted so good! Arriving at the meet site around 8:30 or so I would find my daughter and talk to her briefly about how she was feeling and say good luck. Not sure why I wished her luck, I don’t believe in luck, but it’s something we say at times. As I walked around with my cup of coffee, there would always be some parents there watching their kids run who had been at the game the night before and we’d talk a little football. Of course, if we won the previous night, I enjoyed the conversations a lot more. By race time I would have a good spot picked out near the starting line to watch my daughter(s) take off. When you’ve got a hundred runners or so lining up at the start, it’s quite a sight. The beginning was fun to watch as the whole mob of runners would try to get as good of a start as possible. The frontrunners would try to get out quickly and get a lead. The rest of the pack would settle in just behind and try to stay close. We’d watch them disappear around the first bend and take a sip of that last drop of coffee. After watching the start it was jog or walk quickly to another spot on the course that we could cheer for the girls as they ran by. Courses usually wind around streets and parks so you have to select spots you can get to before the runners get there. As we waited, we just enjoyed the morning and my wife and I would talk about how we thought our daughter was running or just strain our eyes looking for the pack to appear. Soon the runners would come by our carefully marked spot and we’d yell encouragement as our team members ran by. After watching most of the runners go by us, it was a jog to the finish line to cheer them home. I didn’t usually get right at the finish, I would pick a spot about two hundred yards from the finish so I could give them some encouragement for that final push. It was cool to watch the runners finish and sprint with what they had left for the final push to the chutes.
After about twenty minutes, the race was over. There would always be kids milling around near the finish getting water, finding their warm-ups, talking to the coach or patting their teammates on the back. We’d find our daughter and let her know we watched the finish, tell her she ran well and give her a high five or a hug.
Now it was time to head home. By this time the sun was warming things up a little more and it was turning into another beautiful autumn day. I always found this a good way to unwind from the night before. Home by eleven, time for chores around the house and watch some game film. Time to start getting ready for next Friday nights opponent. No wonder I love the fall.
Well, it’s like this. I had three daughters, Angela, Olivia, and Natalie, who ran cross country in junior high and high school. They were spread out enough in age that they all went through high school separately. That’s at least twelve years of watching cross country meets. I couldn’t go to the meets during the week, they were right after school and I was coaching at football practice. But I could make their Saturday morning meets and that’s what I did. My daughters were really sprinters and excelled at track, earning some place medals at the state meet, but used cross country as a way to stay in shape in the off-season. It was good for their physical conditioning as well as mental. I’ve always taken pride in how tough football players are but I’ll tell you something, cross country runners have to be mentally tough. That three mile race is a grind and they run hard. My daughters were solid team members and always ran in the top five of the team. The Saturday meets were usually large invitationals and a lot of fun to watch. The atmosphere was completely different than Friday night. Friday night football was always intense, hard hitting, emotional, and draining. It was under the lights, cool, and the game lasted two hours. A cross country race lasts about twenty minutes and the atmosphere is pretty relaxed most of the time (unless you’re a runner). It gets a little intense at the finish, especially for a parent.
On a typical Saturday my wife and I would get up around 7:00 a.m. for a 9:00 a.m. cross country meet. Most of the meets would be around thirty to forty five minutes away. It was usually a bright, sunny, crisp fall morning and we would be out the door by 7:30. On the way to the meet, we would stop and get some coffee to go. Ahh, tasted so good! Arriving at the meet site around 8:30 or so I would find my daughter and talk to her briefly about how she was feeling and say good luck. Not sure why I wished her luck, I don’t believe in luck, but it’s something we say at times. As I walked around with my cup of coffee, there would always be some parents there watching their kids run who had been at the game the night before and we’d talk a little football. Of course, if we won the previous night, I enjoyed the conversations a lot more. By race time I would have a good spot picked out near the starting line to watch my daughter(s) take off. When you’ve got a hundred runners or so lining up at the start, it’s quite a sight. The beginning was fun to watch as the whole mob of runners would try to get as good of a start as possible. The frontrunners would try to get out quickly and get a lead. The rest of the pack would settle in just behind and try to stay close. We’d watch them disappear around the first bend and take a sip of that last drop of coffee. After watching the start it was jog or walk quickly to another spot on the course that we could cheer for the girls as they ran by. Courses usually wind around streets and parks so you have to select spots you can get to before the runners get there. As we waited, we just enjoyed the morning and my wife and I would talk about how we thought our daughter was running or just strain our eyes looking for the pack to appear. Soon the runners would come by our carefully marked spot and we’d yell encouragement as our team members ran by. After watching most of the runners go by us, it was a jog to the finish line to cheer them home. I didn’t usually get right at the finish, I would pick a spot about two hundred yards from the finish so I could give them some encouragement for that final push. It was cool to watch the runners finish and sprint with what they had left for the final push to the chutes.
After about twenty minutes, the race was over. There would always be kids milling around near the finish getting water, finding their warm-ups, talking to the coach or patting their teammates on the back. We’d find our daughter and let her know we watched the finish, tell her she ran well and give her a high five or a hug.
Now it was time to head home. By this time the sun was warming things up a little more and it was turning into another beautiful autumn day. I always found this a good way to unwind from the night before. Home by eleven, time for chores around the house and watch some game film. Time to start getting ready for next Friday nights opponent. No wonder I love the fall.
Monday, October 11, 2010
Surprise 'Em, Dad
It was our usual routine to get the kids up on Sunday mornings and go to church. We weren't legalistic about it or anything, didn't do it to score points with God or earn our way to heaven, we just thought it was a good family practice. So our four kids were used to the routine and accepted it as part of life. Every now and then something special would come up on the schedule and we would honor another committment, usually a larger family type activity with grandparents or the like. But sometimes we just changed the routine, especially in the summer, and did something different. It would usually go something like this...
A beautiful summer morning would be developing and as my wife and I would awaken around 7a.m. or so one of us would suggest, as we lay there being just a little lazy, enjoying sleeping in a bit, "Wanna go to a ballgame?" My wife would suggest this as often as I would. You have to understand, my wife is not too into sports but she LOVES going to a baseball game. Heck, I love all sports and would go to a game of any kind any time! So if she suggested first, I was ready to go. And if I suggested first, she was just as willing. Well, by 8a.m. we would go to the kids rooms and rouse them out of bed with the announcement, "We're going to a ballgame! Get out of bed and get ready!" As soon as they heard those words they were out of bed, into their summer clothes and ready to hit the road. A quick breakfast later, and we were all in the car headed to St. Louis. We lived in Central Illinois and were about 2 1/2 to 3 hours from Busch Stadium. This was back in the 80's and early 90's and we could always jet down and get some bleacher seats for about six bucks apeice. These days, you can hardly get a bleacher seat the day of the game, the ball park's just about always full. Anyway, we'd get our bleacher seats and be in the park by noon. I always wanted to watch batting practice while the wife and my girls got something to munch on. My son would hang over the outfield wall hoping to coax a tossed ball from one of the players shagging flies. It was a great atmosphere on a warm, sunny Sunday afternoon.
One particular time when my son was about ten or eleven years old and hanging over the wall with about a dozen or so other little boys about the same age, I witnessed an amusing incident that has always stuck with me. The boys were yelling at some San Francisco Giant players who were shagging flies in BP. One of the Giants was a pitcher named Kelly Downs and the boys were yelling for a ball. Well, the Giants weren't paying much attention so finally one of the boys yelled out, "Kelly's a girls name!" Well, Kelly heard him. He turned around slowly and glared at the boys. They either scattered or backed away from from the wall with their eyes big as silver dollars. They were a bit scared. The boys all pointed at the guilty party as they backed away from the wall, my son included. Ole Kelly walked slowly to the wall with that glare and then...broke into a big smile, pointed and waved at the boys and tossed 'em a ball. He just grinned and joined his teammates in the outfield. Now how cool was that of Kelly? He just had some fun with the boys and they all grinned too. I thought he handled it great and he certainly made a fan out of me.
I can't remember who won the game that day, I guess it doesn't matter. What matters is that we had a fun family day and I didn't realize how much the kids enjoyed it until years later when they were all grown up with kids of their own and I overheard one of them saying to the others, "Hey, remember when Mom and Dad would get us up and go to a ballgame instead of goin' to church? That was so much fun!" I didn't realize how much they enjoyed it, but I'm glad we took 'em to a ballgame.
Thanks again to www.chiefpigskin.com for giving me the opportunity to share stories about football, being a dad, a husband, and anything else about life that I have learned. To all you football coaches, good luck to you and your teams as we come down the stretch of the regular season. Talk to you soon.
A beautiful summer morning would be developing and as my wife and I would awaken around 7a.m. or so one of us would suggest, as we lay there being just a little lazy, enjoying sleeping in a bit, "Wanna go to a ballgame?" My wife would suggest this as often as I would. You have to understand, my wife is not too into sports but she LOVES going to a baseball game. Heck, I love all sports and would go to a game of any kind any time! So if she suggested first, I was ready to go. And if I suggested first, she was just as willing. Well, by 8a.m. we would go to the kids rooms and rouse them out of bed with the announcement, "We're going to a ballgame! Get out of bed and get ready!" As soon as they heard those words they were out of bed, into their summer clothes and ready to hit the road. A quick breakfast later, and we were all in the car headed to St. Louis. We lived in Central Illinois and were about 2 1/2 to 3 hours from Busch Stadium. This was back in the 80's and early 90's and we could always jet down and get some bleacher seats for about six bucks apeice. These days, you can hardly get a bleacher seat the day of the game, the ball park's just about always full. Anyway, we'd get our bleacher seats and be in the park by noon. I always wanted to watch batting practice while the wife and my girls got something to munch on. My son would hang over the outfield wall hoping to coax a tossed ball from one of the players shagging flies. It was a great atmosphere on a warm, sunny Sunday afternoon.
One particular time when my son was about ten or eleven years old and hanging over the wall with about a dozen or so other little boys about the same age, I witnessed an amusing incident that has always stuck with me. The boys were yelling at some San Francisco Giant players who were shagging flies in BP. One of the Giants was a pitcher named Kelly Downs and the boys were yelling for a ball. Well, the Giants weren't paying much attention so finally one of the boys yelled out, "Kelly's a girls name!" Well, Kelly heard him. He turned around slowly and glared at the boys. They either scattered or backed away from from the wall with their eyes big as silver dollars. They were a bit scared. The boys all pointed at the guilty party as they backed away from the wall, my son included. Ole Kelly walked slowly to the wall with that glare and then...broke into a big smile, pointed and waved at the boys and tossed 'em a ball. He just grinned and joined his teammates in the outfield. Now how cool was that of Kelly? He just had some fun with the boys and they all grinned too. I thought he handled it great and he certainly made a fan out of me.
I can't remember who won the game that day, I guess it doesn't matter. What matters is that we had a fun family day and I didn't realize how much the kids enjoyed it until years later when they were all grown up with kids of their own and I overheard one of them saying to the others, "Hey, remember when Mom and Dad would get us up and go to a ballgame instead of goin' to church? That was so much fun!" I didn't realize how much they enjoyed it, but I'm glad we took 'em to a ballgame.
Thanks again to www.chiefpigskin.com for giving me the opportunity to share stories about football, being a dad, a husband, and anything else about life that I have learned. To all you football coaches, good luck to you and your teams as we come down the stretch of the regular season. Talk to you soon.
Sunday, September 26, 2010
How Many is Too Many?
Major League Baseball has 162 games, the NBA has 82 games and the NFL only has 16 games. What’s with that, some say? Hey, it used to be 12, then 14 and now we’re talking 18. It’s too many. Period. Butkus and Ditka are gimpy, Sayers retired at 28, Aikman had multiple concussions and Earl Campbell is in a wheelchair. The pounding in pro football is FEROCIOUS!
Baseball is meant to be played every day. While a 162 game schedule can be grueling and the players certainly do wear down, it’s not near as tough on the body as some other sports. Basketball can be wearing as well, especially on the legs, but it can be played effectively every other day. Players need to rest their legs between games. But football? One game a week baby, you can’t play more than that. It’s just too physical. I know what you’re thinking, “They already play 4 preseason games and 16 regular season games. Just switch it to 2 preseason and 18 regular season games. It will be the same. Besides, fans don’t like preseason games.” As Lee Corso would say, “Not so fast, my friend.” You cannot compare a preseason game with a regular season game. The starters don’t stay in the entire game and don’t take near the punishment. They play a few series, maybe a half, and then the guys trying to make the team take over.
Think back to when you and I played the game a few years back. Heck, I can remember when I was in high school, I was nicked up and a little beat up by game 6 or 7. By the time game 10 came, we all needed a little break. I used to wake up on Saturday morning a little stiff and sore, but no big deal. I was also 17 years old, not 25 or 30. We all know that as we get older, it takes longer to bounce back. By the time we’re in our early 20’s we’re not kids anymore. And at every level of football the hitting intensifies. At the high school level, sophomores hit harder than freshmen. The varsity hits much harder than the sophomores. College hits much harder than high school, and the pros hit harder than college. Now, add to that that these are grown men, not kids. They are bigger, faster, and stronger than ever. The collisions are bone shattering. I don’t know how these guys get out of bed on Monday mornings. Look at what a problem injuries are already. Teams lose players for the season in camp. Then they lose players for the season in preseason games. They’re already banged up before the season and now some want to play 18 more regular season games? I can’t imagine.
Of course, there is always the argument that there are plenty of guys standing in line waiting to fill in. Thousands of men would love the chance to have a shot at the NFL. Yes, there are always more players ready to step in. But does that justify just throwing these guys out there for an 18 game schedule that the fans want and more importantly, the owners want? Because, in the end, let’s face it, it IS all about the money. The owners aren’t about to lose their present 20 game schedule. (4 preseason, 16 regular) Are we to the point that we’re greedy for more revenue at the expense of players? Evidently so. Maybe I’m too soft. I don’t know, if I am then so be it. And I might as well add I’m worried about the direction of college football as well. When I was kid they all played a 10 game schedule. Then, they went to an 11 game schedule to add a little more revenue. A few years ago Division I went to a 12 game schedule. The desire for more money being the key, of course. Oh, and let’s expand conferences to 12 members so we can divide into divisions for a championship game. BIG money there. Now we’re at 13 games with a bowl game for a season ending game making it a 14 game schedule. And these kids aren’t pros, they’re college students. It’s all based on making more money. We had better be careful. I would hate to see us abuse the greatest team sport on earth for greedy purposes. And I haven’t even addressed the issue that we’re clamoring for a playoff in Division I football. More games, more money.
There you have it. My opinion on how many is too many. Go ahead and let me know what you think, whether you agree or not. Is there a limit? If so, what should it be at the pro level and college ball? Thanks as always to www.chiefpigskin.com for allowing me to express my views and tell my stories.
Baseball is meant to be played every day. While a 162 game schedule can be grueling and the players certainly do wear down, it’s not near as tough on the body as some other sports. Basketball can be wearing as well, especially on the legs, but it can be played effectively every other day. Players need to rest their legs between games. But football? One game a week baby, you can’t play more than that. It’s just too physical. I know what you’re thinking, “They already play 4 preseason games and 16 regular season games. Just switch it to 2 preseason and 18 regular season games. It will be the same. Besides, fans don’t like preseason games.” As Lee Corso would say, “Not so fast, my friend.” You cannot compare a preseason game with a regular season game. The starters don’t stay in the entire game and don’t take near the punishment. They play a few series, maybe a half, and then the guys trying to make the team take over.
Think back to when you and I played the game a few years back. Heck, I can remember when I was in high school, I was nicked up and a little beat up by game 6 or 7. By the time game 10 came, we all needed a little break. I used to wake up on Saturday morning a little stiff and sore, but no big deal. I was also 17 years old, not 25 or 30. We all know that as we get older, it takes longer to bounce back. By the time we’re in our early 20’s we’re not kids anymore. And at every level of football the hitting intensifies. At the high school level, sophomores hit harder than freshmen. The varsity hits much harder than the sophomores. College hits much harder than high school, and the pros hit harder than college. Now, add to that that these are grown men, not kids. They are bigger, faster, and stronger than ever. The collisions are bone shattering. I don’t know how these guys get out of bed on Monday mornings. Look at what a problem injuries are already. Teams lose players for the season in camp. Then they lose players for the season in preseason games. They’re already banged up before the season and now some want to play 18 more regular season games? I can’t imagine.
Of course, there is always the argument that there are plenty of guys standing in line waiting to fill in. Thousands of men would love the chance to have a shot at the NFL. Yes, there are always more players ready to step in. But does that justify just throwing these guys out there for an 18 game schedule that the fans want and more importantly, the owners want? Because, in the end, let’s face it, it IS all about the money. The owners aren’t about to lose their present 20 game schedule. (4 preseason, 16 regular) Are we to the point that we’re greedy for more revenue at the expense of players? Evidently so. Maybe I’m too soft. I don’t know, if I am then so be it. And I might as well add I’m worried about the direction of college football as well. When I was kid they all played a 10 game schedule. Then, they went to an 11 game schedule to add a little more revenue. A few years ago Division I went to a 12 game schedule. The desire for more money being the key, of course. Oh, and let’s expand conferences to 12 members so we can divide into divisions for a championship game. BIG money there. Now we’re at 13 games with a bowl game for a season ending game making it a 14 game schedule. And these kids aren’t pros, they’re college students. It’s all based on making more money. We had better be careful. I would hate to see us abuse the greatest team sport on earth for greedy purposes. And I haven’t even addressed the issue that we’re clamoring for a playoff in Division I football. More games, more money.
There you have it. My opinion on how many is too many. Go ahead and let me know what you think, whether you agree or not. Is there a limit? If so, what should it be at the pro level and college ball? Thanks as always to www.chiefpigskin.com for allowing me to express my views and tell my stories.
Thursday, September 9, 2010
Freshman Initiation? Nah!
I had heard about it leading into my freshman year of high school. We had all heard of it. What exactly would they try to do to us? Push pennies across the floor with our noses? Pound us? Tie us up and put us in a locker? The bigger of my classmates and the tough guys solemnly swore that anyone who tried to “initiate” them would pay the price. But what about me? I was a little twerp. I was the smallest of all freshmen in a class of 300. Oh, I talked tough too, but inside I was terrified. I wasn’t really afraid for my physical well being, I was afraid of being embarrassed. And in particular, I was afraid of being embarrassed in front of the girls. I wanted to be cool and it wasn’t cool to be humiliated in front of everyone. So, I was worried.
It turns out that my fears were mostly unfounded. Yeah, there were two guys that chased me around the first week of school and tried to sit me on a water fountain. I managed to elude them long enough that they lost interest. The junior and senior football players ignored me and that was fine with me. Hazing, as we call it now, was something I was able to avoid. But over the years I have heard some stories of very severe hazing and even heard there was occasionally some under my watch as a teacher and a coach. If I had seen it, I would have stopped it. I always talked to my athletes about being leaders to the younger guys by helping them. Give them a great role model to look up to, to emulate. “Remember,” I told my players, “you’re a hero to these freshmen. They watched you play varsity ball last year and they look up to you. Don’t ruin your image with these guys by being a jerk.” Did they take my advice to heart? I think most did, but I guess there were a few who thought it was a rite of passage. Let me tell you a story about a great example of the kind of senior I wanted my players to be.
On one particular day my freshman year I was running late to class. I was hustling down the hall and passing the boy’s restroom when the door exploded open as I hurried by. The door nailed me full force and I was sent sprawling on my belly down the floor and my books scattered all over. I looked up to see Larry Elmore standing over me. Now, Larry Elmore was known as THE baddest dude in the school. He was a 6’0” 200 pound all conference defensive lineman that always walked around with a scowl on his face. In addition, he wrestled in the 180lb. weight class on the wrestling team. So there I was, lying on the floor staring up at mean, bad, angry, Elmore. I figured since I got in the way of his door and maybe slowed him down, that I was dead meat. He looked at me, looked at the books and began reaching down – to pick up the books! Larry apologized profusely for flattening me and began picking up my scattered books. I jumped to my feet and started helping. “It’s OK”, I muttered, “no big deal”. “Are you OK?” he asked as we rounded up my stuff. “Yeah,” was all I could say. We finished picking up my books and he said, “I’m really sorry about that.” I just smiled and started hustling to class. I turned and looked over my shoulder to see him headed off the other way. I had a new found respect for a senior football player who had a little compassion for a scrawny freshman. It was a great example to me how a real leader helps those less fortunate.
Later on that school year, to my great surprise, we became teammates on the varsity wrestling team. I wrestled 95 lbs. and as I mentioned earlier, he was our 180 pounder. How did I become the varsity 95 pounder? That’s another story. Wait until you hear that one. Keep checking www.chiefpigskin.com and I’ll fill you in on the details someday.
It turns out that my fears were mostly unfounded. Yeah, there were two guys that chased me around the first week of school and tried to sit me on a water fountain. I managed to elude them long enough that they lost interest. The junior and senior football players ignored me and that was fine with me. Hazing, as we call it now, was something I was able to avoid. But over the years I have heard some stories of very severe hazing and even heard there was occasionally some under my watch as a teacher and a coach. If I had seen it, I would have stopped it. I always talked to my athletes about being leaders to the younger guys by helping them. Give them a great role model to look up to, to emulate. “Remember,” I told my players, “you’re a hero to these freshmen. They watched you play varsity ball last year and they look up to you. Don’t ruin your image with these guys by being a jerk.” Did they take my advice to heart? I think most did, but I guess there were a few who thought it was a rite of passage. Let me tell you a story about a great example of the kind of senior I wanted my players to be.
On one particular day my freshman year I was running late to class. I was hustling down the hall and passing the boy’s restroom when the door exploded open as I hurried by. The door nailed me full force and I was sent sprawling on my belly down the floor and my books scattered all over. I looked up to see Larry Elmore standing over me. Now, Larry Elmore was known as THE baddest dude in the school. He was a 6’0” 200 pound all conference defensive lineman that always walked around with a scowl on his face. In addition, he wrestled in the 180lb. weight class on the wrestling team. So there I was, lying on the floor staring up at mean, bad, angry, Elmore. I figured since I got in the way of his door and maybe slowed him down, that I was dead meat. He looked at me, looked at the books and began reaching down – to pick up the books! Larry apologized profusely for flattening me and began picking up my scattered books. I jumped to my feet and started helping. “It’s OK”, I muttered, “no big deal”. “Are you OK?” he asked as we rounded up my stuff. “Yeah,” was all I could say. We finished picking up my books and he said, “I’m really sorry about that.” I just smiled and started hustling to class. I turned and looked over my shoulder to see him headed off the other way. I had a new found respect for a senior football player who had a little compassion for a scrawny freshman. It was a great example to me how a real leader helps those less fortunate.
Later on that school year, to my great surprise, we became teammates on the varsity wrestling team. I wrestled 95 lbs. and as I mentioned earlier, he was our 180 pounder. How did I become the varsity 95 pounder? That’s another story. Wait until you hear that one. Keep checking www.chiefpigskin.com and I’ll fill you in on the details someday.
Saturday, August 21, 2010
No Helmet, No Shoes...Father Knows Best
It was the summer of 1965 and I was looking forward to one thing, the start of football. I had never played what I considered real football in my life; full pad, tackle football. I had played plenty of sandlot ball, backyard games, made up games, and even one year of organized flag football, but never the real deal, full blown game of organized, pad wearing American football. You see, I was going into high school now and this was my first opportunity to play real football. In ’65 where I grew up, there was no youth football; you just waited for high school. Well, high school was here, baby, and I was ready.
In July my mom took me in for my high school physical that would double as my football physical. The only thing I remember is that I weighed 85 pounds. Yes, 85 pounds! That meant nothing to me; I had always been small but had held my own in any sport I had ever tried. I was confident I could play. I loved contact, tackling, ball carrying, catching, blocking, strategy, anything about football-you name it, I loved it.
Finally, the day came when we picked up our equipment. Everything was a little big but I could handle it. Then came time to get my shoes and helmet. The school issued shoes, we couldn’t buy them. To my dismay, no shoes fit me. They were all too big. OK, no big deal, I thought. I can play in my tennis shoes. Then I went to try on helmets. They were all way too big. There was no way I could wear one. I had no helmet and no shoes and practice started the next day. Heck, I had even hit a growth spurt. I was up to 94 lbs. the day we picked up equipment. The coaches didn’t seem too concerned about my dilemma and simply said they would see what they could do to get me a helmet and shoes.
The next day we began practice and I was the only one of 70 freshmen that had no helmet. I wasn’t worried about shoes. Otherwise, I was in full gear. As soon as warm-ups and agilities were over I was told to get out of the drills, sit on the side, and watch. I wasn’t allowed to participate in the rest of practice without a helmet. This went on for two weeks. Now, you might be wondering, “What did your parents say”? Well, I never told them. I saw no reason to tell them and parents back then didn’t come watch practice, they were working. Dad was at the foundry and mom was at home taking care of my brothers and sister. So, after two weeks, I figured it was time to quit. I was tired and frustrated with doing warm-ups then going to sit down and watch the rest of practice. I could see this was going to last the entire season since I certainly wasn’t a star that they needed on the field. So, one afternoon when school was out, I just went home. That was that, or so I thought.
About 5:30 my Dad came home. He said, “What are you doing at home?” I replied that I had quit and explained the reason why. I thought I had a pretty good reason and he was going to tell me how unfairly I had been treated. Wrong. “So you’re going to be a quitter, huh?” I wasn’t getting much sympathy. I started to explain the situation again since he obviously didn’t hear me correctly the first time. “C’mon,” he said, “we’re going to school.” I followed him to the car; we got in, and drove to school. Nothing was said. We got to school and walked to the coach’s office. Dad knocked on the open door, and we went in. Most of the coaches were old veterans, older than my Dad. They knew him since he had attended the same high school. They had their feet up and were just shooting’ the breeze, probably talking football. Now, you have to understand something about my Dad. He would have never caused trouble with teachers and coaches, that wasn’t his way. Both of my parents had taught me to respect my teachers and that the teacher was always right. However, my Dad was the ultimate man’s man and the coaches also respected HIM. Not to brag on my Dad but the fact was that he was one of the most respected boxers to come out of the city. That was fact. Actually, many old timers considered him to be perhaps the very best, toughest to come out of Peoria ever. The coaches DID NOT think he came to beat them up. Heck, they were tough guys too. But they did respect him. Well, as we walked in, Dad said, “Hi men.” They immediately took their feet down and did a little scrambling. They gave Dad a gracious, slightly nervous welcome. “What can we do for you, Oscar?” the head coach said. Dad looked at me. “He needs a helmet. Can you guys get that taken care of?” That’s all Dad said. They assured him it would be taken care of.
On the way home Dad gave me the talk about not quitting. As I recall it went like this. “You can’t quit whenever things get tough. If you start something, you have to finish it. What are you going to do when you’re married someday and you’ve got 3 or 4 kids at home and things get really tough? You going to quit on them too? Once you start quitting things, it starts to become easier to quit each time. You can’t quit.”
The very next day I had my own helmet. I learned that the coaches got it from another high school in town. It fit perfect but it was the wrong color. “Can we get it painted?” I asked. They shook their heads, laughed and yelled at me to get my butt out to practice. I did, and finished out the season. I’ve never forgotten that lesson. Thanks Dad.
Thanks to www.chiefpigskin.com for letting me share this story.
In July my mom took me in for my high school physical that would double as my football physical. The only thing I remember is that I weighed 85 pounds. Yes, 85 pounds! That meant nothing to me; I had always been small but had held my own in any sport I had ever tried. I was confident I could play. I loved contact, tackling, ball carrying, catching, blocking, strategy, anything about football-you name it, I loved it.
Finally, the day came when we picked up our equipment. Everything was a little big but I could handle it. Then came time to get my shoes and helmet. The school issued shoes, we couldn’t buy them. To my dismay, no shoes fit me. They were all too big. OK, no big deal, I thought. I can play in my tennis shoes. Then I went to try on helmets. They were all way too big. There was no way I could wear one. I had no helmet and no shoes and practice started the next day. Heck, I had even hit a growth spurt. I was up to 94 lbs. the day we picked up equipment. The coaches didn’t seem too concerned about my dilemma and simply said they would see what they could do to get me a helmet and shoes.
The next day we began practice and I was the only one of 70 freshmen that had no helmet. I wasn’t worried about shoes. Otherwise, I was in full gear. As soon as warm-ups and agilities were over I was told to get out of the drills, sit on the side, and watch. I wasn’t allowed to participate in the rest of practice without a helmet. This went on for two weeks. Now, you might be wondering, “What did your parents say”? Well, I never told them. I saw no reason to tell them and parents back then didn’t come watch practice, they were working. Dad was at the foundry and mom was at home taking care of my brothers and sister. So, after two weeks, I figured it was time to quit. I was tired and frustrated with doing warm-ups then going to sit down and watch the rest of practice. I could see this was going to last the entire season since I certainly wasn’t a star that they needed on the field. So, one afternoon when school was out, I just went home. That was that, or so I thought.
About 5:30 my Dad came home. He said, “What are you doing at home?” I replied that I had quit and explained the reason why. I thought I had a pretty good reason and he was going to tell me how unfairly I had been treated. Wrong. “So you’re going to be a quitter, huh?” I wasn’t getting much sympathy. I started to explain the situation again since he obviously didn’t hear me correctly the first time. “C’mon,” he said, “we’re going to school.” I followed him to the car; we got in, and drove to school. Nothing was said. We got to school and walked to the coach’s office. Dad knocked on the open door, and we went in. Most of the coaches were old veterans, older than my Dad. They knew him since he had attended the same high school. They had their feet up and were just shooting’ the breeze, probably talking football. Now, you have to understand something about my Dad. He would have never caused trouble with teachers and coaches, that wasn’t his way. Both of my parents had taught me to respect my teachers and that the teacher was always right. However, my Dad was the ultimate man’s man and the coaches also respected HIM. Not to brag on my Dad but the fact was that he was one of the most respected boxers to come out of the city. That was fact. Actually, many old timers considered him to be perhaps the very best, toughest to come out of Peoria ever. The coaches DID NOT think he came to beat them up. Heck, they were tough guys too. But they did respect him. Well, as we walked in, Dad said, “Hi men.” They immediately took their feet down and did a little scrambling. They gave Dad a gracious, slightly nervous welcome. “What can we do for you, Oscar?” the head coach said. Dad looked at me. “He needs a helmet. Can you guys get that taken care of?” That’s all Dad said. They assured him it would be taken care of.
On the way home Dad gave me the talk about not quitting. As I recall it went like this. “You can’t quit whenever things get tough. If you start something, you have to finish it. What are you going to do when you’re married someday and you’ve got 3 or 4 kids at home and things get really tough? You going to quit on them too? Once you start quitting things, it starts to become easier to quit each time. You can’t quit.”
The very next day I had my own helmet. I learned that the coaches got it from another high school in town. It fit perfect but it was the wrong color. “Can we get it painted?” I asked. They shook their heads, laughed and yelled at me to get my butt out to practice. I did, and finished out the season. I’ve never forgotten that lesson. Thanks Dad.
Thanks to www.chiefpigskin.com for letting me share this story.
Thursday, August 12, 2010
It'll Make You Sick
“Don’t drink too much of that water!” yelled my little league coach. “It’ll make you sick!” How many of you out there are old enough to remember those words? That was the belief in the days I grew up in. I can remember many a hot and humid day that as one of my teammates or I approached the water fountain, we heard that admonishment. And it wasn’t just water; it could have been Gatorade if it had been invented yet. Basically any cool or cold fluid on a warm stomach was bad for you. Now, our coaches weren’t being mean or sadistic, they honestly believed that when we were hot, too much water would make us sick. We were only allowed a few swallows of water at a time. As I got into high school a few years later, the attitude hadn’t changed. Too much water on a hot stomach would make you sick.
I remember when I was a sophomore in high school and we were going through double sessions in August. The temperatures were 90 plus, it was humid, and of course, we were in full gear. Full gear on the first day of practice and not a cloud in the sky. The rule of shorts and t-shirts the first three days was years away. Now you say “But coach, you guys were in pretty good shape from your summer workouts, right?” Nope. Our coaches didn’t have any summer workouts in place so we were out of shape! We had a practice field next to our high school that had an old cinder track around it and half of the cinders always wound up on our field. The ground was hard and dusty with a little grass on it. When we practiced, the dust would fly. So you can imagine what we looked like within half an hour of practice. The flying dust stuck to our sweaty faces and caked around our mouths. The cinders from the track had us cut and bleeding so the blood was mixed in with sweat and dust. In no time at all we would be parched. I would be so thirsty my tongue would stick to all sides of my mouth. Instead of talking, I could only croak. Halfway through a two or three hour practice, we would receive our much anticipated water break. Out marched a couple of coaches with two metal pails full of ice. We got into two long lines and were allowed one handful of ice. Yes, one handful of ice because remember, TOO MUCH WATER ON A HOT STOMACH WILL MAKE YOU SICK! The coaches made sure to remind us of the favor they were doing for us by limiting our water intake. We were very thankful for their reminder. Sophomores were at the end of the line, so by the time we got our handful, the seniors and juniors had already dipped in with their dirty, dusty hands. When my turn came, all that was left in the bottom of the pail was kind of a muddy, slushy ice. I’d reach in eagerly and get my handful. And you know what? It was the best tasting drink of water I ever had. I savored every drop. Only trouble was, I was still thirsty as ever when I finished. Obviously, it wasn’t nearly enough. After practice it was time for salt tablets. On my first day of practice I had never seen a salt tablet in my life. I wasn’t sure what to do with the darn things. I tried sucking on them but that was horrible. Next I tried chewing them and eating them like candy. That was bad too. Finally I figured out that you take them like aspirin. I usually downed two or three and didn’t ask questions. I certainly didn’t want to look like I didn’t know what I was doing, did I? After the morning practice I would go home, lie on the couch, and wait for the late afternoon practice.
Looking back, I really don’t know how someone didn’t get some kind of heat stroke. I was a little guy, so the heat didn’t get to me like it probably got to the big guys. We had a few guys that were big and very overweight. I think we were very lucky to avoid a dangerous situation. Back then though, we didn’t even think about it. In fact, I don’t remember any other schools in the area or the state having any problems. But, then again, they probably got 3 or 4 swallows of water compared to our handful of ice. It was a different time, a different era.
These days we always made sure we gave the kids plenty of water, and on especially hot days the kids would be given a few extra minutes to hang out at the water hole to cool down a little as they got a good drink. We would give three water breaks and allow kids to get a quick drink in between reps. My old coaches would have been surprised that in the 28 years of my coaching, I don’t recall one kid ever getting sick from that doggone water! Let’s not even get into the subject of possible lawsuits, but we can all imagine what would happen if we if we even came close to the old days. Rather than salt tablets, I would suggest replacing the lost sodium and potassium by eating salty tortilla chips, salted pretzels or the like accompanied with generous amounts of fluids. Bananas are a good source of potassium also. Sometimes not enough water is taken with tablets and the chips or pretzels make you thirsty so you’ll drink more. You may have your own methods, but I’m sure we all agree that staying hydrated is essential. The first weeks of practice are really hot and we have to be very careful. Take care of ‘em coaches.
All this talk about double sessions reminds me, it’s about that time, isn’t it? I know you’re all excited and ready to go! Thanks to sites like www.chiefpigskin.com we can all stay connected and keep learning. I’m excited for you and can’t wait for the season to begin. There’s a lot of teaching and coaching to be done, so go to it. As for me, I’m getting me a big glass of ice water right now and I’m drinking all I want!
I remember when I was a sophomore in high school and we were going through double sessions in August. The temperatures were 90 plus, it was humid, and of course, we were in full gear. Full gear on the first day of practice and not a cloud in the sky. The rule of shorts and t-shirts the first three days was years away. Now you say “But coach, you guys were in pretty good shape from your summer workouts, right?” Nope. Our coaches didn’t have any summer workouts in place so we were out of shape! We had a practice field next to our high school that had an old cinder track around it and half of the cinders always wound up on our field. The ground was hard and dusty with a little grass on it. When we practiced, the dust would fly. So you can imagine what we looked like within half an hour of practice. The flying dust stuck to our sweaty faces and caked around our mouths. The cinders from the track had us cut and bleeding so the blood was mixed in with sweat and dust. In no time at all we would be parched. I would be so thirsty my tongue would stick to all sides of my mouth. Instead of talking, I could only croak. Halfway through a two or three hour practice, we would receive our much anticipated water break. Out marched a couple of coaches with two metal pails full of ice. We got into two long lines and were allowed one handful of ice. Yes, one handful of ice because remember, TOO MUCH WATER ON A HOT STOMACH WILL MAKE YOU SICK! The coaches made sure to remind us of the favor they were doing for us by limiting our water intake. We were very thankful for their reminder. Sophomores were at the end of the line, so by the time we got our handful, the seniors and juniors had already dipped in with their dirty, dusty hands. When my turn came, all that was left in the bottom of the pail was kind of a muddy, slushy ice. I’d reach in eagerly and get my handful. And you know what? It was the best tasting drink of water I ever had. I savored every drop. Only trouble was, I was still thirsty as ever when I finished. Obviously, it wasn’t nearly enough. After practice it was time for salt tablets. On my first day of practice I had never seen a salt tablet in my life. I wasn’t sure what to do with the darn things. I tried sucking on them but that was horrible. Next I tried chewing them and eating them like candy. That was bad too. Finally I figured out that you take them like aspirin. I usually downed two or three and didn’t ask questions. I certainly didn’t want to look like I didn’t know what I was doing, did I? After the morning practice I would go home, lie on the couch, and wait for the late afternoon practice.
Looking back, I really don’t know how someone didn’t get some kind of heat stroke. I was a little guy, so the heat didn’t get to me like it probably got to the big guys. We had a few guys that were big and very overweight. I think we were very lucky to avoid a dangerous situation. Back then though, we didn’t even think about it. In fact, I don’t remember any other schools in the area or the state having any problems. But, then again, they probably got 3 or 4 swallows of water compared to our handful of ice. It was a different time, a different era.
These days we always made sure we gave the kids plenty of water, and on especially hot days the kids would be given a few extra minutes to hang out at the water hole to cool down a little as they got a good drink. We would give three water breaks and allow kids to get a quick drink in between reps. My old coaches would have been surprised that in the 28 years of my coaching, I don’t recall one kid ever getting sick from that doggone water! Let’s not even get into the subject of possible lawsuits, but we can all imagine what would happen if we if we even came close to the old days. Rather than salt tablets, I would suggest replacing the lost sodium and potassium by eating salty tortilla chips, salted pretzels or the like accompanied with generous amounts of fluids. Bananas are a good source of potassium also. Sometimes not enough water is taken with tablets and the chips or pretzels make you thirsty so you’ll drink more. You may have your own methods, but I’m sure we all agree that staying hydrated is essential. The first weeks of practice are really hot and we have to be very careful. Take care of ‘em coaches.
All this talk about double sessions reminds me, it’s about that time, isn’t it? I know you’re all excited and ready to go! Thanks to sites like www.chiefpigskin.com we can all stay connected and keep learning. I’m excited for you and can’t wait for the season to begin. There’s a lot of teaching and coaching to be done, so go to it. As for me, I’m getting me a big glass of ice water right now and I’m drinking all I want!
Saturday, July 31, 2010
Youth Football Is Here...
The high school season is just a few weeks away but already youth football (13 years and under) is gearing up all around the country. In many states the youth leagues begin late July or early August. There are junior high leagues, middle school leagues, Pop Warner, JFL, and Pee Wee. Whatever your community calls it, it’s that time of year.
First of all, let me say a big thank you to those of you who volunteer your time to help coach these youngsters. We appreciate your efforts and the time you will be putting in this season. Good luck to all who coach our kids. Many of you are veterans but I’m sure there are more than a few of you who are new to this world of coaching football and might be looking for a little guidance. If you’re like most of us, you learn as much as you can from those who have gone on before you. I coached (and taught) for thirty years and in my thirtieth year I was still learning as much or more as when I first started. Be a sponge and soak up as much knowledge as you can. Books, DVD’s, clinics, periodicals, and talking to other coaches are all ways to learn. And don’t forget about a website like www.chiefpigskin.com that has tons of free resources from championship high school and college programs. There are many key concepts to working with youngsters but the following are a few I learned over the years.
· Be an encourager. Pre and early teen boys are at a very fragile stage with their self esteem. Be positive and enthusiastic.
· Be organized. I always had my practice plan in my pocket. I used it to stay on schedule and remind myself what I wanted to teach. Every coach on the field should have his plan on him.
· Keep your offense and defense simple. Don’t get too complicated. Know what you want to do, believe in it, teach it, coach it, and execute it. Every offense and defense is effective if executed correctly.
· Teach, teach, teach! Coach, coach, coach! Kids are there to learn so teach them the skills and strategies necessary for them to be successful. The best teaching and coaching comes in breakdown time. A big part of practice should be devoted to position time. Keep team O and D to a minimum.
· Pre teen kids roll out of bed in shape. Don’t get carried away with “gettin ‘em in shape”. The big, heavy kids will improve their conditioning over time by working hard in drills. We incorporated our conditioning into our football drills. They are there to learn how to play football, not run cross country. (I like cross country, but it’s a different sport.)
· Be patient. If my players didn’t do a drill correctly, I figured I didn’t do a good job of teaching. Reteach and try again. If it still doesn’t go well, move on.
· End practice on a positive note. Congratulate them on a job well done. Make them feel special for the effort they just gave.
· Have fun!
Good luck this season and remember that what you are doing is very important. We thank you for working with young players. If you have any questions at all or any comments, I can be reached through the chiefpigskin.com website. I love talking football.
Sample practice plan
The following plan is just one example.
4:00-4:10 Warm up and flexibilities
4:10-4:20 Agility stations 4 or 5 stations (Teaches athletic skills AND conditions)
4:20-4:25 Water
4:30-4:55 Individual O or D
Backs, receivers, line all go to own areas to work on skills and assignments
Incorporate running with your drills. Learn AND condition at the same time.
4:55-5:00 Water
5:00-5:15 Front drill (Running plays only – receivers work on passing game in other area)
Keep this drill moving-coach on the run. If it’s up tempo, players will learn offense and get legs in shape.
5:15-5:20 Water
5:20-5:40 Team Offense
Again up tempo-minimize standing around and giving speeches. This can be a time of execution AND conditioning. Give water breaks as need.
5:40-5:55 Perfect plays
Run 10 perfect offensive plays against air, no defense. First 5 yards simulates play then sprint last 35 yards straight ahead. This is execution and a GREAT conditioner. Essentially doing ten 40 yard dashes but with a football purpose.
5:55-6:00 Bring them in, take a knee, final instructions and break.
A defensive practice would follow the same type of schedule.
Saturday, July 17, 2010
These days...summer means football
The barbells are banging and the weights are being thrown around the weightroom. The air is full of footballs as 7 on 7 games are being played at local high schools. Football coaches are running drills for speed, agility, and technique. It's a high energy atmosphere as football camps are rolling throughout Illinois and across the country. We're only in the middle of summer but already football is in full swing. High school association rules allow for much more contact with the athletes than several years ago and the importance of weight training can't be disputed. There is no question that players are bigger, faster, stronger, in better shape, better coached and more prepared than at any time I can remember.
I'm dating myself, but I can recall when I started high school football in 1965, there was basically nothing going on in the summer at our school in Illinois. We weren't very good, and maybe that's part of the reason why. But I suspect that we were not the only ones that had no summer football program. Oh, starting my sophomore year in '66 a new coach was hired and he had seniors lead workouts 2 weeks before the first official practice. It was low key and not well attended or taken seriously by the players. The coach was no where to be seen, I assume because it was against the rules, so there was no coaching. Basically, the season started on the first day of practice around the third week in August. It truly was "hell week" because we were so out of shape. The coaches had 3 weeks to get us physically and mentally ready for the first game in the middle of September. Offenses and defenses weren't as sophisticated and most teams ran the football at least ninety per cent of the time. Passes were thrown now and then to make our opponents think we actually had a passing game. What a difference from today!
Programs now resemble effecient college programs. Whether you agree with the more intense approach or not, that's the way it is now. To be competitive in todays world of high school football, coaches must do what they can to keep getting better. Let's not forget one key ingredient; through it all - HAVE FUN!
I'm dating myself, but I can recall when I started high school football in 1965, there was basically nothing going on in the summer at our school in Illinois. We weren't very good, and maybe that's part of the reason why. But I suspect that we were not the only ones that had no summer football program. Oh, starting my sophomore year in '66 a new coach was hired and he had seniors lead workouts 2 weeks before the first official practice. It was low key and not well attended or taken seriously by the players. The coach was no where to be seen, I assume because it was against the rules, so there was no coaching. Basically, the season started on the first day of practice around the third week in August. It truly was "hell week" because we were so out of shape. The coaches had 3 weeks to get us physically and mentally ready for the first game in the middle of September. Offenses and defenses weren't as sophisticated and most teams ran the football at least ninety per cent of the time. Passes were thrown now and then to make our opponents think we actually had a passing game. What a difference from today!
Programs now resemble effecient college programs. Whether you agree with the more intense approach or not, that's the way it is now. To be competitive in todays world of high school football, coaches must do what they can to keep getting better. Let's not forget one key ingredient; through it all - HAVE FUN!
Monday, July 5, 2010
Fall of '63
Sandlot ball was all I ever played when it came to football up until I was about 12 years old. This was back in the early 60's and I don't recall any kind of youth leagues whether it be JFL, Pop Warner, Pee Wee or anything similar. We just got together in someones' backyard and divided up teams and played. It was usually 4 0n 4 or 5 on 5 and we had touchdown lines at the end of the yard. Sometimes we would wear our store bought uniforms but usually we just played in our jeans and sweatshirts. (Boys did not wear shorts back in those days) I guess it was the summer of '63 that word got out that there was going to be a flag football league in the fall. We were pumped! Yeah, we would have preferred real football with tackling, after all, tackling was the most fun part. But we would take anything.
My Dad went to an organizational meeting and when he came back, he and my Uncle Jerry were the coaches of one of the teams. I don't know how they chose teams but I ended up on the Gold team, which of course was coached by my Dad and uncle. There were four teams in all. Our jerseys were long sleeved and gold with blue shoulders. The other teams were blue, green, and red with white shoulders. No pads, but we did wear helmets and wore our blue jeans for pants. Most guys just wore their own department store helmets. Back in those days, helmets were not what they are now. Anyway, we had a league and we were excited. This was my first taste of organized football.
We were allowed to wear our own helmets and mine was white with a red stripe down the middle. I had drawn horseshoes on the side with a black marker to make it look like a Colts helmet. They were my favorite team at the time because my favorite players were Johnny Unitas, Raymond Berry, and Lenny Moore. Oh, and these were the BALTIMORE Colts.
My best memory is the night they let us play the Blue team at the halftime of the local high school game. It was a crisp October night and there was a nice crowd. As we warmed up near the end of the 2nd quarter the excitement mounted. At the half we got on the field and quickly lined up on defense. We didn't have much time. After about 3 plays they broke a long run and the crowd cheered as we ran down the field. Now it was our turn. We broke a long run also after a couple of plays and the crowd roared! Man, was that fun. Cool autumn air, under the football lights, long touchdown runs and twelve years old. It was my first time on a football field under the lights. What could be better?
As I look back, they should have made it 7 on 7 passing leagues, but it was just like real football (11 on 11) except played with flags. Instead of 10 yards for a first down it was 20. I suppose the thinking was flags would be hard to pull. We lined up in the full house T formation with two tight ends and ran the football 90% of the time. So did everyone else. Needless to say, the games were very low scoring with not much offense. I mean, you couldn't run over defenders and break tackles, so the games were defensive battles. Big plays consisted of a long pass play hooking up now and then or someone making a reverse work. It was really very crude but you know what? We had fun and really enjoyed it. There weren't many pileups but we got to fall down enough that we were happy. Our team only won one or two games out of six played but it was football, and that's all that mattered. My Dad and uncle had fun too and it turned out a positive experience. Dad had been a professional athlete but he was very good about being low keyed and was never critical of my performance. The following year we moved to another part of town and there was no flag football or any other kind of youth league. Now it was just wait for high school ball and get back to the sandlots.
These days the youth leagues are numerous, intense, and very well organized. I don't know how much sandlot ball or flag football kids play these days but I do know that we had our own brand of football that taught us toughness, tackling, and moxey. It was great and I'll never forget it.
Thanks to Chiefpigskin.com for having me on as a blogger. I love talkin football.
My Dad went to an organizational meeting and when he came back, he and my Uncle Jerry were the coaches of one of the teams. I don't know how they chose teams but I ended up on the Gold team, which of course was coached by my Dad and uncle. There were four teams in all. Our jerseys were long sleeved and gold with blue shoulders. The other teams were blue, green, and red with white shoulders. No pads, but we did wear helmets and wore our blue jeans for pants. Most guys just wore their own department store helmets. Back in those days, helmets were not what they are now. Anyway, we had a league and we were excited. This was my first taste of organized football.
We were allowed to wear our own helmets and mine was white with a red stripe down the middle. I had drawn horseshoes on the side with a black marker to make it look like a Colts helmet. They were my favorite team at the time because my favorite players were Johnny Unitas, Raymond Berry, and Lenny Moore. Oh, and these were the BALTIMORE Colts.
My best memory is the night they let us play the Blue team at the halftime of the local high school game. It was a crisp October night and there was a nice crowd. As we warmed up near the end of the 2nd quarter the excitement mounted. At the half we got on the field and quickly lined up on defense. We didn't have much time. After about 3 plays they broke a long run and the crowd cheered as we ran down the field. Now it was our turn. We broke a long run also after a couple of plays and the crowd roared! Man, was that fun. Cool autumn air, under the football lights, long touchdown runs and twelve years old. It was my first time on a football field under the lights. What could be better?
As I look back, they should have made it 7 on 7 passing leagues, but it was just like real football (11 on 11) except played with flags. Instead of 10 yards for a first down it was 20. I suppose the thinking was flags would be hard to pull. We lined up in the full house T formation with two tight ends and ran the football 90% of the time. So did everyone else. Needless to say, the games were very low scoring with not much offense. I mean, you couldn't run over defenders and break tackles, so the games were defensive battles. Big plays consisted of a long pass play hooking up now and then or someone making a reverse work. It was really very crude but you know what? We had fun and really enjoyed it. There weren't many pileups but we got to fall down enough that we were happy. Our team only won one or two games out of six played but it was football, and that's all that mattered. My Dad and uncle had fun too and it turned out a positive experience. Dad had been a professional athlete but he was very good about being low keyed and was never critical of my performance. The following year we moved to another part of town and there was no flag football or any other kind of youth league. Now it was just wait for high school ball and get back to the sandlots.
These days the youth leagues are numerous, intense, and very well organized. I don't know how much sandlot ball or flag football kids play these days but I do know that we had our own brand of football that taught us toughness, tackling, and moxey. It was great and I'll never forget it.
Thanks to Chiefpigskin.com for having me on as a blogger. I love talkin football.
Monday, June 28, 2010
There's just something about football...
First, let me just say that I love all sports. Okay, curling is...interesting and synchronized swimming? I don't count that as a sport. But for the most part I love all sports. But from the time I was about 5 years old there was something about football. I saw my first game when I was 5. It was a high school game in East Peoria, Illinois and, of course, when you're 5, watching high school players is like watching grown adult men. The players looked huge and I was fascinated by 22 guys just jumping on each other making a big pile over and over. Long break away runs by running backs gave me a thrill and the players got so dirty and grass stained! I thought the dirty uniforms looked really cool. What was there not to like. It just looked like great fun and those aspects of the game certainly grabbed my interest. I got my first uniform for Christmas when I was 5. You know the type - the one you buy at the local department store. It was a red and white uniform with the #51 sown on it by my mom. (I was born in '51 thus the #51). I loved putting that uniform on and pretending I was a real player. I wanted to get it dirty like the big guys.
When I was 6 I played my first game in my neighbor's back yard. It was my little brother and me against our 8 year old neighbor. Running for touchdowns, tackling, and piling on were about the most fun I could have. I loved the smell of the dirt and grass when we were on the ground and I loved the smell of the leather football. Still love those smells even now. At the age of 6 I was hooked for life. So I guess it was a combination of several things. Regardless, I was hooked on football and from there my love for the sport grew.
Naturally, as I got older I began to love the strategy and science of the game but that's another story. For the next several years I played football on the sandlots, in flag football, and high school ball. I coached high school football for nearly 30 years and have many great memories. Now retired from coaching, I love the game as much as ever. And guess what? My son is a high school football coach so I still have a connection to the game. It is as much part of my life as just about anything other than my family. I would be curious to know what drew you to the sport. Let me know if you get the chance or just think back and ask yourself what it was that hooked you. As for me, there's just something about football. I love it!
When I was 6 I played my first game in my neighbor's back yard. It was my little brother and me against our 8 year old neighbor. Running for touchdowns, tackling, and piling on were about the most fun I could have. I loved the smell of the dirt and grass when we were on the ground and I loved the smell of the leather football. Still love those smells even now. At the age of 6 I was hooked for life. So I guess it was a combination of several things. Regardless, I was hooked on football and from there my love for the sport grew.
Naturally, as I got older I began to love the strategy and science of the game but that's another story. For the next several years I played football on the sandlots, in flag football, and high school ball. I coached high school football for nearly 30 years and have many great memories. Now retired from coaching, I love the game as much as ever. And guess what? My son is a high school football coach so I still have a connection to the game. It is as much part of my life as just about anything other than my family. I would be curious to know what drew you to the sport. Let me know if you get the chance or just think back and ask yourself what it was that hooked you. As for me, there's just something about football. I love it!
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