NO CUTTING!

As can be perceived from my last post about the carreer of James Taylor from Peoria, IL, you can probably guess that I would be against "cutting". You know, that practice of keeping only a designated number of players for the roster and telling the other kids who tried out for the team that they didn't make the cut. They can find something else to do.

Now, I understand why some sports have to do it, but I still don't like it. Space is limited, uniforms are limited, and coaches are limited. Basketball may be the best example. It's not unusual for 50 kids to go out for the freshmen team but only 15 can make the squad. Therefore, tryouts must be held and 35 prospective athletes get cut. But is it possible that one or two (or more) of those kids cut could be a star in waiting? We all know the answer. Yes, that is a real possibility. Baseball is another sport that unfortuntely has to cut lower levels sometimes. The sports that I coached, football and wrestling, cutting was unheard of and I was thankful for that. I always recruited our halls for football players and I was a relentless recruiter for wrestling. Believe me, wrestling is NOT a sport where you open the doors and kids are pouring in to the wrestling room. But I have heard of a few schools around the nation who actually do cut in football. That means James Taylor, featured in my previous post, the future all stater, all american, and pro, likely would have been cut because he was a little bit of a late bloomer. I was fortunate enough when I coached wrestling to work with a heck of a basketball coach. Not only was he a winning basketball coach but we worked well together. When he made his cuts, he would gather the kids together and encourage them to give wrestling a try. I really appreciated that and actually picked up some kids who turned out to be outstanding wrestlers. So, in that instance, cutting helped my program. But I think that might be an exception.

So, what's the answer? I'm not sure. Intramurals could be promoted more, it seems they've lost their popularity. But that requires space, facilities, and personnel too. A "Taxi" squad that practices and works out but doesn't dress and then next season trys out again could be a possibility. I would love to hear some of your ideas. You can post them here or go to the forums at Chiefpigskin.com and chime in there. I'll have a thread ready just in case.

Final word; explore all possibilities before making cuts. I would hate to lose a kid that is full of potential but we just haven't seen it yet. Is there anything more rewarding than watching average or below average kids turn themselves into contributors or stars because of their desire, hard work, and our coaching? I think not.

My First Campout

When we weren't playing football, baseball, Army, or just riding our bikes around, we were off in the woods exploring. We had what we called the "little woods" and the "big woods”. Now, the little woods were just a little stand of trees just behind a small field at the edge of our subdivision. Of course, they seemed bigger to a seven-year-old. Beyond the little woods was another small field and then behind that were the big woods. When we walked into those woods the path was narrow and dark. These were woods that made us feel like Daniel Boone when we went exploring. It was like hiking in the Appalachians to us.

My buddies and I had been itching to head out to the big woods one night for an overnight campout but all of our parents insisted we have an adult with us. Well, somehow we talk my dad into volunteering. My aunt and uncle were living with us at the time and my uncle Dave volunteered to go also. At the time dad was about 30 years old and uncle Dave about 24. You have to know my uncle Dave. He was a pure all round athlete, loved all sports, and would try anything. He was a joker, boaster, and just plain fun loving. I really thought he was cool. The details of this campout are sketchy, but here is how I remember the highlights. (It was, after all, 53 years ago).

We tramped into the big woods around 6 PM. I was anxious to show my dad where my buddies and I hiked. After about ten minutes we came to a little clearing on a sloping hill that had an old fire pit dug out in the middle. Perfect campsite. All we brought to sleep on was one blanket and pillow. Dad and uncle Dave brought the food. The idea was to lay on one half of the blanket and cover with the other half. Everyone picked their spot to sleep and then we all gathered wood. No tent, no sleeping bag. We were men! We got a fire going a little and as I looked at our fire pit I saw my dad squirting lighter fluid on it and pretending to be peeing on the fire! All my buddies roared with laughter but I was a little embarrassed. Come on, dad! After roasting some hotdogs we settled into our blankets on the hard ground. Isn't it something how you can sleep anywhere on any surface when you're a kid? As soon as it got dark and things were winding down a blood curdling cry echoed from the woods. OCK’aWA’ka ! OCK’aWA’ka ! It scared the daylights out of us all. Two minutes later appearing out of the darkness and into our camp like a ghost walks my uncle Dave with a big smile. "I shore scared you guys, huh? Heh, heh, heh”. Yeah, he did.

That morning I peeked my head out of my blanket and saw about 10 bodies wrapped up like mummies. We had all gotten so cold we just wrapped ourselves up. Pillows were scattered everywhere and no one was even using their pillow. But you know what? It was fun back then. I don’t think I’d find sleeping on the hard ground on a cold night with just one thin blanket much fun now. But when you’re seven or eight years old, what an adventure! As we came out of the woods that morning I envisioned old Dan’l Boone himself coming home to his wife Rebecca after a six month outing. Life couldn’t be much better.
Chiefpigskin.com

Are You Eight?

It was the beginning of summer in 1958 and school had just let out a few days earlier. I had been introduced to baseball by the neighborhood kids the previous fall when my family had moved into our new home in a budding subdivision in Washington, Illinois. These guys had become my buddies and we had been playing ball in the vacant lot all spring when the weather got warm. I was two months shy of turning seven years old and just finished first grade. Life was good. It would be a whole summer of playing baseball. Remember, this was a time when baseball was king and all boys wanted to play it.

But today my buddies were really excited because it was sign up day for Little League. Back in those days there was no T-ball or anything like that. So you had to be at least eight years old to sign up. Most of my buddies were eight or nine years old, so the gang was headed to Oliver Thomas Park to sign up. I was assured by my friends that I to would be allowed to sign up. "Heck, you're better than most eight-year-olds," they told me. "Just come with us, will get you on a team."

Well, I started getting optimistic as we approached the park. There were kids all over and a few men signing them up. My buddies went up to the guy doing the registration and got taken care of. I kind of stood in the background until a couple of guys grabbed me and took me up to the coach. "He wants to sign up too," they told him. He looked at me with a little smile and asked loudly, "Are you eight?" He had to know I wasn't eight. I was the smallest kid in my class so I probably didn't look a day over five. I looked down a little, shook my head, and quietly said, "No." Backed against the wall I just couldn't lie. "You gotta be eight," he announced with that little smile. And that was it. I turned and dejectedly walked away. Darn, I was disappointed. I really wanted to be on a team and get that T-shirt and hat. My buddies came after me yelling, "Why didn't you just say you were eight?" It was like a scene right out of the movie “The Sandlot”, and I was Smalls.

The next summer, I did get to play Little League even though I was a bit young. I was plenty good enough to play. Someone must've pulled some strings. I finally got my T-shirt and cap! www.chiefpigskin.com

Let's Play a Game of Scrub

“Let’s play a game of Scrub.” That would be my old buddy, Bernie Lee, who probably taught me more about baseball from the time I was 6 years old until I was 8, when Bernie moved away, than anyone else. Bernie wasn’t the only one that taught me baseball. There were brothers Fred and Rudy Brewster, Steve Hicks, Danny McAvoy, Steve and Leslie McKimmson and many others. But Bernie was the main guy. He had the greatest passion for the game and was always thinking of a way to play ball in the summer. In the fall, of course, it was Bernie that taught my brother Dan and me to play football.

Bernie was 2 years older than me and he was kind of my neighborhood hero. Whatever Bernie did was good enough for me. Remember when you were 6 or 7 years old and an 8 or 9 year old seemed like practically a teenager? Well, that was Bernie. And boy was he good at sports. I figured he was ready for the pros any day. In the evenings I would go to the Little League Park and watch Bernie play. He was a stocky kid and was the catcher for his team. Back in those days the catcher turned his ball cap around and wore it backwards so he could put his catcher’s mask on. I thought wearing your cap backwards looked really cool, but only catchers did it. That was before the day when catchers wore protective helmets. I could only watch because back in 50’s there was no T-ball or anything like that for 6 and 7 year olds. Little League started at 8 years old, period. You just had to wait until you were old enough to play. But that was OK because as I’ve mentioned before, we played sandlot games all day anyway. Heck, I could get in 20 or 30 at bats on the sandlot.

Anyway, Scrub was a really fun game of baseball that we could play for hours. I think Bernie said he learned it from his dad, who played ball in the 30’s and 40’s. Scrub was also called “Workup” by some of the guys. The rules were simple and it worked best when you had 12 or 13 guys. Here’s how it went. We would fill in all 9 positions on the field then let the extra 3 or 4 guys be the batters. Everyone wanted to hit (although I loved playing the field too) so the incentive, or goal, was to work your way up to be a batter. Batters got to stay at bat as long as they didn’t make an out. If you made an out, you went to right field. The right fielder went to center, center to left, left to 3rd base, 3rd to shortstop, short to 2nd base, 2nd to 1st base, 1st to pitcher, pitch to catcher, and the catcher got to be a batter. We just rotated and we would sprint to our new position. A special rule was if you were playing the field and caught the batters fly ball or line drive you just switched positions with the batter. This made for great catches of liners and fly’s since you got to be a batter immediately. Guys would let it all hang out to catch a fly ball.

When I became a PE teacher later in life, I introduced this game to some of my classes. But since my classes usually had 25-30 kids it wasn’t always best. (Unless I had two games of Scrub going on at once). It worked great with my elementary classes because I would throw an orange disc on the ground to show them where they were to be for their position. Once I taught ‘em the rotation, the kids would hustle to the next disc.

Looking back, I realize it was a terrific way to learn the game. I got to play every position on the field and learned how to cover each base, take relay throws, and be the cutoff man. I learned all that from my buddies, and most of all, Bernie. Wherever you are today, thanks Bernie. And thanks to www.chiefpigskin.com for allowing me to tell my stories.

When Baseball was King

I love football. I've always loved football, ever since I was about six years old. And I love getting on www.chiefpigskin.com to see what’s new. But let me tell you, baseball has always been a close second. You have to remember, I grew up in the 50’s and 60’s when baseball was still king. Especially in the late 50’s, when I was just starting to learn the game, baseball was truly the national pastime. I first became interested in the game in 1957 when the heroes were guys like Willie Mays, Hank Aaron, Mickey Mantle, Stan Musial, and Warren Spahn. Collecting baseball cards was something every little boy did, and every boy had his own glove.

How many of you older fellas out there can remember this? When I was a kid I rode my bicycle everywhere and I never went anywhere without my glove. I always hung my glove on my handlebars, so that if I saw a game going on in a vacant lot or on the school grounds I could just get off my bike and join the game. I would get up early in the morning, eat some cereal, and tell my mom, “See you later.” I was off to join the local baseball game. How did I know there would be a baseball game going on? Are you kidding me? There were always some games going on. I would play ball all day, come home at night and eat my supper, then put on my Little League uniform to play more baseball.

Regular baseball games are not all we played. We played games of workup, sometimes called scrub, or we played games of 500, wiffleball, cork ball, or any other game we could make up. We didn't need adults, and we didn't need their supervision, telling us how to play the game. We just played. We played “right field is out” if we had to, and we had invisible base runners if we didn’t have enough players. We did whatever it took.

The game of 500 was a good learning experience for all of us. How many of you remember that? One guy would toss the ball up and hit it out of his hand to the rest of us five or six guys playing out in the field. If you caught a fly ball it was worth 100 points, a one hopper was worth 75, a two hopper worth 50, and ground balls worth 25. The first guy in the field to reach 500 or more points got to be the new batter. We use to fall all over each other going after that ball. It taught me how to get a good jump so that I could beat the other guys to the ball and it taught me how to catch fly balls and grounders. It taught me to be aggressive and out jump the other guys in trying to catch the ball. Heck, it was just a lot of fun. If you dropped a fly ball, you lost 100 points. And if you dropped or muffed a one hopper you lost 75 points, and so on. So you had to make sure that when you got to the ball, you fielded it cleanly. We could play 500 all morning and all afternoon. As long as it was some form of baseball.

I realize that these days kids are a lot different. I'm not going to criticize them for playing video games all the time. I probably would've done the same. So as I look back I'm glad we didn't have some of the things that kids today have. I don't think I would've had as much fun. It was a different time, wasn't it? By the way, if you’re not sure what a game of Scrub is, I’ll tell you about it next week. Catch you later.

The Trip That Never Was

I think for the most part I did a pretty good job of spending time with my kids and family and doing some fun things. I suppose we could all do better, but there is one particular instance that has always bothered me. In fact, it’s bothered me a lot over the years. I have always been a big baseball fan and my son also loves baseball. The idea came to me one time that my son and I should take a baseball trip for about a week or two during the summer. Now this was when my son was about eight years old and I figured we had the next few years to make this trip. He would be the perfect age. This was back in the mid-to-late 80’s and baseball games were still much more affordable than they are now. Here was the plan. We would travel during the day from baseball town to baseball town, get tickets and see a ball game, then spend the night in a nearby state park campground. By leaving early in the morning we could travel to the next city, get a campsite, and then head to the ballpark. After the game, go to our tent (yes, tent) get some sleep, then do it again the next day in another city. This way, we could catch a lot of ballgames in different cities, see a lot of different parks and spend the night camping. The whole idea, I thought, would be an affordable trip. Not only affordable but a lot of fun too.

I figured we would head out for the East from central Illinois and then loop on back to the Midwest. As I looked at the map it looked like we could hit cities like Detroit, Cleveland, Cincinnati, Pittsburgh, Philadelphia, Baltimore, Boston, New York, and come back visiting St. Louis and then back home. Oh yeah, we could visit Cooperstown in New York and see the Hall of Fame. In this way we could get some good father-son time together, travel to some great cities and ballparks, and campout at night. I thought it was a great idea and really believed we would get it done someday.

Of course we all know how busy football coaches can be in the summertime. We had our summer camp, we had weight room supervision, seven on seven games, and of course coaches meetings. On top of that, if www.chiefpigskin.com had been around, I would've been learning more football. Besides all this I was a driver education teacher and so I taught a lot of driver ed. in the summer. Some people think that teachers have the summer off but I sure never did. I was always very busy with other things.

Before I knew it my son was 10 and we still hadn’t taken the trip. But I told him someday we would. And I meant it. Before I could blink he had turned 12 and we still hadn’t taken the trip but I assured him that SOMEDAY we would. The next thing I knew, you guessed it, he had turned 14 and it was his turn to start playing high school football. Now he was just as busy with football as I was. And guess what? We didn't take that baseball trip I planned on all those years. By this time we were in the early 90’s and it just didn't get done. It's one of the things that I look back on now with regret. We should've taken that trip and I’m still convinced it was a great idea. I guess the moral of this story is to take time out from that busy schedule to do something different and fun with kids.

Years later when he was in college, my son and I took a cool trip together over spring break and had a great time. Maybe I’ll tell that story sometime. But you know what? I’ve got three grandsons now and I’m starting to get this neat idea…

Gladiator

Mr. Gross, the high school wrestling coach, had done a pretty good job of recruiting me for the wrestling team. Mr. Gross was also the varsity line coach for the football team. He knew that wrestling and football went hand-in-hand, although at the time I had no idea. Even though www.chiefpigskin.com is a football site, I’m sure that more than a few of you football coaches out there are familiar with wrestling and its benefits for football players. So when I was recruited for the high school wrestling team, it made no sense to me. (Please see my last column to learn of my recruitment for wrestling) My two favorite sports were football and baseball, but I always enjoyed playing basketball also. So much so that I played on the grade school basketball team from fifth through eighth grade. Now back in those days where I lived we had a lightweight team and a heavyweight team. Since I was a little guy I always qualified to play on the lightweight team but tournament time I also played guard on the heavyweight team. Well, there was no lightweight team in high school so I had already decided that I wasn’t going out for basketball in high school; I saw the writing on the wall. I was an okay basketball player but very small and knew that I would never make the high school team. I figured I would just take the winter off, perhaps play baseball in the spring or perhaps just focus on football. I certainly didn't envision myself being a wrestler, but Mr. Gross had different ideas and he did a great job of recruiting me to be his 95 pounder on the wrestling team.

So here I was, football season was over, and I was in the wrestling room. Now if you've never been in a wrestling room you can't quite imagine the atmosphere. The ideal wrestling room is kept warm and in the case at our school, very warm. I found out wrestlers liked it that way so they could sweat off more weight. Mr. Gross would wrap a cold towel around the thermostat every day before practice. This would ensure that the heat kept running the entire time practice was going on. I never knew how hot it was in that room, it felt like 100 although I'm sure it was only around 80 to 85. It was almost like a steam bath sometimes. By the time you got 30 to 35 guys in there working out hard and sweating you could almost see the steam on the walls. Guys that were cutting weight would wear those old rubber suits which would make them sweat even more. We would all be soaked in sweat, beat up, bloody, and battling each other on the mats. It was a bit crowded in the room and guys were always running into each other and tripping each other up. If a couple of the heavier weights got out of control and were really in a scramble, they would fly all over the mat knocking us little guys down. It was a pretty rough environment, to say the least. The smell of the mats with all that sweat also made its own unique smell. So there I was, steamy, smelly, bloody and tired. If you’ve ever seen a movie about gladiators training for the arena, that’s what I felt like, a gladiator. I was learning a few takedowns and some counters, which simply means ways to stop takedowns by your opponent. I had also learned how to line up in the referee's position, top and bottom. I learned a few pinning combinations from the top position and a few escapes and reversals from the bottom. And after the first practice or two, I didn't throw up anymore when I got tired. But after the first week, I was still wondering what in the world I was doing in this strange new sport. Although it was the hardest sport I had ever tried, there was something about it that appealed to me. For one thing, I was beating the other 95 pound candidates and also beating the 103 pounder. So it gave me a sense of accomplishment, toughness if you will. My dad had been a good boxer, maybe I could be a good wrestler.

Week two, Mr. Gross announced that we were going to have challenge matches. I asked the upperclassman what challenge matches were. They explained to me that we would have matches, “wrestle offs”, to decide who would be in the starting lineup against our first opponent. The coach wouldn't decide the starting lineup; we would by our performance in our challenge match. Whoever won the wrestle off was the starter. I liked that idea. I felt I deserved to be getting a little more playing time on the freshman football team but the coaches decided I was too small and not good enough I guess. Now I had a chance to earn a starting spot by simply winning. It was in MY hands.

On Tuesday night it was time to begin challenge matches. Our coach had written all the pairings on the board and I was scheduled to wrestle Jim Thompson for the starting spot at 95. Since we were lightweights, we were up first. However, it wasn't just us wrestling our challenge match, there were about four others going on at the same time. You had to conduct your match in just one little section of the mat. There would be two of us wrestling and an experienced, veteran wrestler was the official. So there were always probably about four or five matches going on at the same time. I was ready to go. I had been practicing against Thompson for the last week and knew that I could dominate him. This was the first wrestling match of my life, and I wasn't even sure how they conducted these things. Our ref had us shake hands and gave us the command, “Ready, wrestle!” After a little bobbing and weaving, I found a good opening and shot in for a double leg takedown, the only takedown I really knew. It was just like a tackle in football and I hit it deep and took him down to the mat. Two points for me. I controlled the match the rest of the way and wound up winning 4-0. The starting spot was mine. I was completely exhausted but happy. Simply put, wrestling was the most physically demanding sport I had ever attempted in my life. I know what you're thinking, "Heck, it's only three two-minute periods, six minutes. Should be easy”. Well, let me tell you, it's the longest six minutes of your life.

The rest of the week we continued our gladiator type training preparing for our first match the following week against archrival Manual High School. All I knew was that Manual was from the south end of town and had a reputation of being a bunch of tough kids. They had whipped us in football, but our upperclassman told us this was our chance to get them back. I could tell this was going to be a big deal. I hoped I was ready and now I was getting nervous. I mean, come on, I was big time. I was the starting varsity 95 pound wrestler!

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.