Puttin' on the Uniform

I happened to notice a post on a forum the other day from a football coach who had just handed out equipment to his players. He was so excited and the kids were excited just to get their equipment. It made me think a little bit about the magic of putting on a uniform. It doesn’t just have to be a football uniform but I just happen to believe, based on my own experiences, that the football uniform is the most special. And I can give you a lot of stories to back up my belief. Anyway, one particular story involving my son and me came to mind.

It was early August of 1992 and we had just finished our football camp the week before. We hadn’t handed out equipment yet, that would be done the day before official practice started around August 10th. Now it’s important to know that my son had never played organized football before. I was never sure if he was ready for it so he played a lot of other sports. So here he was 14 years old and he had never put on a real football uniform. I don’t count the one I got him at K-Mart when he was 7. Well, I was on the football staff and I had a key to the equipment room so I asked the head coach if I could get my son’s equipment early. One afternoon I said, “Let’s go get you fitted for your football gear.” He was pumped. He had waited for this day for a long time.

We got to school (which was right across the street) and got out some gear. Helmet, shoulder pads, practice jersey, pants, and pads. Got him all fitted so everything fit well. He only weighed 105 and stood about 5-2 so I had to get some small stuff. Once we got everything fitting well he put it all on and he went and stood in front of a big mirror. We both just stood and looked in the mirror. He with his uniform and me standing next to him. I don’t know who had the bigger smile, him or me. I slapped the top of his shoulder pads a couple of times to simulate a hit. “How’d that feel”? “Good,” he replied. More smiles.

Who would have thought that just putting on a uniform could be so much fun? We had BOTH waited for this day a long time. Practice was just around the corner and he was ready to go. This is the time of year that anticipation for the season starts to mount. The first order of business is “Puttin’ on the uniform!”
Chiefpigskin.com

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.

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.