Autumn Mornings

*The following is a post from the archives Oct. 2010*

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.  Chiefpigskin.com

Moving Forward

On June 28, 2010 I posted my first blog. That makes Football,Fathers,Husbands,and Life just over two years old. I have always assumed that the majority of my readers are men and most of those are football coaches. I have noticed, however, that there are a few other followers that may fit different categories. I came up with the name of my blog because my main focus was football. But I also felt that after 40 years of marriage and 4 children that I might be able to give younger parents and younger husbands some advice and tips that I had learned along the way. I hope I have done that. I added the word Life at the end of my blog just so I could write about anything else in life I wanted to.

I started this blog because my son told me I had a lot of good stories to tell and I figured this was also a good way to eventually leave my stories, thoughts, ideas, and opinions to my children, grandchildren, and beyond. I didn't want to write a book so I just started telling short stories. Eventually I'll have a pretty good collection of my stuff that hopefully my family after me will enjoy.

So, moving forward I have made it my goal to try to post 2 articles a week. Even though my focus is on Football, Fathers, and Husbands, I will continue to write about other subjects, do an occassional book review, and tell stories about my youth.
Hopefully I'll share something I've learned in life from those older and wiser than me.

Oh, by the way, football, and particularly high school football is just around the corner. And I love high school football. I can't wait! Chiefpigskin.com

Lone Wolf

Some time ago, an old acquaintance of mine told me a story of a police officer who served in a northern native settlement in Canada. One day a rabid wolf wandered into the aboriginal settlement. The police officer eventually shot it, but not before it attacked a young man and his grandmother in their home making kindling out of the chair the young man used to protect himself and his attacker.

There were about 150 sled dogs in the village - more than a match for one sick wolf - yet the intruder was left alone to do its work. Why? My friend explained that in order to prevent the dogs from fighting and wounding each other, they had been tied to wooden stakes spaced far enough apart to prevent them from reaching any neighboring animal. Because of this the wolf walked freely among the dogs killing some and badly wounding others. In isolation they were no match for their foe and they suffered terribly for it.

What a picture for the need for every man to be a part of a bigger body of like minded men. (PreachingToday.com, Awlwyn Balnave, Calgary, Canada) As football coaches, husbands, and fathers, we need other men in our lives for accountability and support. We all share ideas about football. That's part of what www.chiefpigskin.com is all about. Football coaches are very generous in sharing ideas and techniques with others. That’s how we continue to improve. Do we also share ideas on how to be a better husband?

A few years ago I began meeting with a group of men on Monday mornings for a bible study. Before beginning the meeting we ask each other how the “Trail” has gone the past week or so. We get varying answers as each man has the freedom to share as little or as much as he likes. This has been a great opportunity to learn from other men on many subjects including such topics as being a better father or husband. It also serves as a certain degree of accountability with each other. It’s been my experience that most men aren’t crazy about sharing such personal subjects. We like to “go it alone”. I don’t think we were made that way; we need the support of others.

Whether it’s through a group of friends, joining a bible study, joining a church, or just getting together with another guy for a cup of coffee on a Saturday morning, I would encourage all of us to have one or more men in our lives that can ask the hard questions, not just, “how about that game Saturday?” Let me know what you think, or better yet, give it a try and let me know how it’s going. I’d love to hear from you.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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!