8. Team Deficit

(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.

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