(Previously sent to friends as a “Happy
Friday” email on 1/5/12.)
With football playoffs rapidly approaching, I’ve been narrowing my choice of favorites. And, this year, I’m going with the Penguins. In checking, I couldn’t find where they’ve ever won a Super Bowl. Given my experiences playing sports as a kid, I usually pull for the underdog.
With football playoffs rapidly approaching, I’ve been narrowing my choice of favorites. And, this year, I’m going with the Penguins. In checking, I couldn’t find where they’ve ever won a Super Bowl. Given my experiences playing sports as a kid, I usually pull for the underdog.
My first and last year playing football
was in ninth grade at South Jr. High in Boise.
South was built using an Industrial Era design much like you’d see in a
maximum-security federal prison, but with fewer aesthetics and less charm. The massive use of concrete was probably
meant to discourage students with budding thoughts of vandalism. On the bright side, we were in the midst of
the Cuban Missile Crisis and were able to avoid work by practicing “duck and cover” in
the event of a nuclear strike by the Russians. At South, we developed a
spirited Bobcat Pride knowing that our school could probably withstand such a
blast. We became quite smug knowing we’d emerge triumphant into the smoldering ruins of what was left
of civilization and join the ranks of the only other survivors: convicted felons from
federal pens and millions of tasty cock roaches.
The best part of playing football
for me was wearing very cool head gear.
Most of the team’s helmets were made of leather with fading maroon and
silver school colors. We must have been
among the last schools in town to begin replacing them with the shiny plastic
models. There were only a few, and they
were all in size Large … probably meant to protect the talented big guys first. Somehow, I managed to flex my head sufficiently
during sizing and became the envy of guys who were “less developed.”
I played the center position. I’m not sure why, because my sports motto had
always been “Never be responsible for the ball.” A history of irresponsible ball handling resulted
in a number punishing experiences. With
conscious effort during practice, I managed to work myself into the safety of
being on the third string … out of the offense’s two strings. If all went well, this would keep me on the
sidelines where I could be most effective … maintaining my helmet in like-new
condition. But an alarming sequence of events began whittling away at the established
pecking order for responsible centers.
Apparently, the other team’s center was plowing right through the line
with a swift elbow to the faces of our guys.
Soon I found myself in an untenable position as our side’s next
sacrifice. I mean, why should I take a
bullet for the team when none of these guys picked me when choosing sides in
PE?
If nothing else, I pride myself
in the ability to survive. Running away,
however, didn’t seem like the most respectable option in this public situation. Instead, I resorted to another of my primal
instincts. Once I snapped the ball, I
immediately dropped to the ground and curled up into a protective fetal
position. Surprisingly, Goliath drove
right over the top of me, tripping and falling to the ground. I was onto something: masterful blocking. I repeated my offensive curl a second time with equal success. This was new territory for me … remaining in
a game for well over a minute and a half.
I could sense that the next play would be the acid test for my skills in
a team sport. It was fourth down and our
quarterback called for a punt … which meant I had to hike the ball considerably
farther than my own rear end. More
vexing was the animal just across the line of scrimmage who obviously was
enraged by my prowess as a tripping hazard.
I think there’s something to be
said about adrenaline’s role in survival situations that gives a person unusual
strength … which could be witnessed as the ball went well over the head of our
quarterback and was recovered by the other team. It was particularly disheartening when Lee W.
-- a third-string guard and fellow sports deficit -- was sent in to replace me.
At the time, setbacks like these
took their toll on my confidence; they really weren’t laughing matters. In retrospect though, I think crushing events
can build character in the sense that they provide insights into the human
experience. Each of us has relative
strengths and weaknesses depending on the setting and situation, and painful ordeals
have the potential to teach us empathy for those around us. Humility, as I see it, is important because
it can help us in arenas where we may excel and others try our patience … when
they are really just doing their best to survive. We know how it feels.
Plus, these experiences give you
something to tell your grand kids: like the time you played football and earned
the right to wear one of the shiny new helmets … and you went unscathed by the
beast who hurt so many others … and how your ball handling tended to be a l-i-t-t-l-e
too powerful…. Yeah, like that.
Go Penguins!
L. Haymond
Former Youth
