They Called Him TUNA

They called him Tuna. I don't know why. And no, this was not Bill Parcells of the New York Giants because this was the fall of 1970. No one had heard of Parcells.

 I had just graduated from high school one year before. We lived about three blocks from my high school, Woodruff High in Peoria, IL. I always went over to the practice field on Saturday morning during the football season to watch the freshmen and sophomores play.  At 9 a.m. the freshmen team played and at 11 a.m. the sophomores played. The fans would stand along the sidelines and watch the game. I just loved watching high school football and hey, these were my guys, my alma mater.

As I walked behind the freshmen team I noticed  one of the bench warmers. The kids called him "Tuna". He was standing passively in back of his team away from the action. It was obvious he would NOT get in the game. He was big, but so big he looked like he had trouble moving. I thought he looked like Baby Huey. Baby Huey was an old comic book character from the 50's and 60's. He was a big duck with a huge rear end. He was all butt.That's what this kid looked like as he stood there chewing on his mouthpiece watching the game. I felt sorry for him knowing he couldn't play and would probably never get in a game. I was right. He rarely played his freshman season and only played the last series of a game if the result was not in doubt. Poor kid, he was terrible. 

After football season was over I heard from my brother Danny that Tuna, (his real name was James Taylor) went out for wrestling. Danny was a senior on the wrestling team and  was one of the stars. "What a sight that must be", I thought. Danny said Taylor was not a good wrestler but he was a nice kid and worked hard. I didn't give it much thought. He wrestled heavyweight, of course, and was on the JV team. I actually saw him win a match and was surprised. He usually got pinned.

The next fall when I went over to watch the sophomores play football games, I didn't see Taylor on the sidelines. "Poor kid didn't go out", I thought. Just as well, he'd probably just get hurt. Then I noticed a big kid with a huge butt on the field playing defensive tackle. It was Tuna, but his rear end looked a little smaller, slightly slimmed down. He wasn't very good, but he was playing and he was holding his own. I was impressed; the kid was actually contributing. Good for him. When football was over I went to the wrestling meets to watch my other brother Kenny  wrestle. Taylor was not the the starting varsity heavyweight and was still the back up. He was moving better and showing a hint of athleticism. "He sure is a nice kid and really works hard", my brother told me. By the end of the season he was emerging as a heavyweight to be reckoned with. In fact, I think he could've beaten the senior starter. Man, had he come a long way.

The next season I went to the Friday night varsity football game. Starting at D tackle for the varsity was Tuna, James Taylor. He was making plays, the opponents had to double team him, and his butt had slimmed down a little more. He was 6'3" and weighed 275 lbs. They couldn't handle him. James made all conference that football season and maybe even special mention all state. I can't remember all the details. But when wrestling came that winter he was dominant and placed 5th at the Illinois High School state wrestling tournament in his first year of varsity competition. By the way, Illinois is a very good wrestling state. Everyone talked about what a good student and hard worker he was. Yeah, I had heard.  His senior year he was an all state football player and got beat by a point in the semis of the state wrestling tournament and finished third. He was a stud. He was all everything.

What's the end of the story? Well, James wasn't finished. He was recruited by the University of Missouri and started at offensive tackle for the Tigers for three years. He was named to the Big Eight all conference team, played in the Blue-Gray all star game, the Senior Bowl, and was a named a third team All American. Drafted by the New Orleans Saints in the 2nd round he had an excellent pro career for four years before hurting his knee. He ended his last season with the Chicago Bears. Moral of the story? Good kids that work hard can go a long way. Even kids that weren't good enough to play their freshman year in high school. Don't ever give up on a high school kid if he's willing to work.
Chiefpigskin.com

Toiling In Obscurity

By now some of you parents may have noticed that the atmosphere at the lower levels of the high school football team is pretty laid back. Whatever your school calls it - Junior Varsity, Freshman, Sophomore, or Frosh/Soph, the lower levels simply don't get the same treatment as the varsity. In fact, they got more attention in Youth Football! I don't think it's that tough on the kids, but tough on the parents. There are no cheerleaders, fanfare, announcers, band, or crowd. Just the game. Some parents may feel their sons are getting the short end of the stick, that they deserve more attention. After all, aren't they part of the team? Didn't they put in work over the summer and weight train just as hard? Well, I would submit that this low profile approach might actually serve as motivation and could have other benefits as well.

Looking back to my high school days I remember we played our freshmen and sophomore games on our practice field at Woodruff High School in Peoria, IL. This field was about fifty percent grass, forty percent hard dirt, and ten percent cinders. An old cinder track that the track team used for practice encircled the field. The more cinders we threw off the field the more showed up by the next practice or game. There were no bleachers, no P.A. announcer, no scoreboard, and no band or cheerleaders. I can still see my Dad walking the sidelines right next to the team. That's what the fans did, just stood along the sidelines next to the team. But you know what? We didn't care. Heck, we'd have played on bricks if we had to. We just wanted to play football and I knew that when I played varsity I would get to play at Peoria Public Schools Stadium. "The Stadium" as we called it had the lushest grass, brightest scoreboard, prettiest cheerleaders, biggest crowds, and best doggone P.A. system in the country. (At least that's how I remember it). It had two large bleacher sections, one on each side, and one had a roof. The end of the stadium that had the scoreboard was lined with pine trees. It was and still is a pretty stadium. It motivated me to work hard so I could play varsity someday. But if I'd had to I still would have played varsity ball on the old practice field.

There was no pressure in those JV games, we just had fun. We were playing football and that's all that mattered. It kept us humble and made us realize we had to pay our dues like the juniors and seniors had. A lot more due paying than one summer of work. Did we desrve to have our names called out like the varsity on the loudspeaker? Maybe. But heck, with all the noise out there and the wind whistling through the ear holes of my helmet I never heard a P.A. announcer while I was playing in my life. I was into the game. And admit it parents, when your son's name is called out on the loudspeaker for a great play, it's not for his ears, it's for yours. YOU want to hear his name.

Many years later I attended a JV college game that my son was playing in. The scoreboard was on but that was it. Colleges don't play many JV games and I was just thankful he was getting a chance to play. He played well that night, caught several balls from his wide receiver position and had a lot of fun. It never occured to me to be upset that this game wasn't getting the same treatment as a varsity college game.

So, my advice is don't worry about the extras, his day is coming. The coaches don't worry about it and neither do the players. Just relax and enjoy those freshmen and sophomore games. They're learning how to be varsity players, and that's what counts.

Chiefpigskin.com

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.