The
Season
Sweat dripped off of
Roy Bond’s oily face. It glistened in the bright September sun. The temperature was still in the high 90s in
south Florida.
The registration line stretched from one end of the school to the other. The hallways were open and ran along the
exterior of the building. Roy was
leaning out to see how much further he had to go when someone stuck a
permission form in his hand. Turning, he
stared at the slender man with the crew cut.
“Son, get you
parents to sign this form, and report to the field house tomorrow for a
football physical.”
“But…” His
stammering response fell short of the back of the man’s head. The speaker continued down the long line with
another man following close behind. They
were dressed alike in Khaki shorts and matching purple shirts. Both had whistles hanging from cords around
their necks. They sized up each male in
the line. If they had any size at all,
they repeated the short speech and handed them a form.
Golfview Junior High School
opened its doors just two years before. Roy stood in line to
register for the ninth grade. The school
sat between an affluent golfing community, Golfview, and the infamous South Gate, a place where
the railroad tracks literally marked the boundary between the fortunate and the
unfortunate. A few kids, including Roy,
lived in a semi-rural area near the school.
Both of Roy’s
parents worked and had no time for golf.
He stared at the
form in his hand and wondered about the possibility of playing football. Roy
weighed 165 pounds, but most of it was baby fat. Very few kids in his neighborhood ever played
any organized sport other than baseball.
Still, the thought of putting on a football uniform and running onto the
field in front of cheering fans excited him.
Sweat continued to streak down his cheek as he waited in the slow moving
line, but Roy
didn’t notice. He dreamed of stardom. In
the past, only the well-to-do kids played football at Golfview. The school win/loss record was dismal.
That evening when his
dad got home, Roy
gave him the insurance card and permission form.
“Dad, can I go out
for football?”
Before he could
answer Roy’s
mother said, “You’re in the band.”
“I could do both.”
He countered.
“You’ve never
played football.” She said, looking at her
husband for some support.
His dad was an
athlete: a champion boxer in the Navy. Roy could sense that his
dad was on his side.
Roy
remembered how his dad tried to prepare him for life. It all started in grammar school. He was too
young to start. He still had his baby
teeth. But there he was at school, back
against the wall, trying to avoid contact with strangers. A large boy stood in front of him looking
down at his upturned face. His stare was
unfriendly.
“What are you
looking at?” The large boy asked...
“Uh, you look
sleepy.” Roy
said.
Apparently he took
offense at Roy’s
retort and pounded him into a submissive blob.
This was his first encounter with a bully. His dad later told him that crying and
rolling into a ball was not an acceptable defense tactic. He tried to teach him
the “sweet science”, but Roy
was left handed, and a bit of a bumble foot, so he progressed slowly and avoided
physical confrontation. By the end of
elementary school he gained some confidence, but, just when he began to feel
comfortable, Junior High School started.
The process had to be repeated.
His dad looked at him
and then back at his mother. “Let’s let him tryout.”
His mother turned
away in defeat. Roy started in on the usual list of promises
related to what he would do if allowed to play.
Dad signed the form.
The next day Roy stood in front of the
concrete block field house with a great host of other potential players. Three major groups huddled in separate areas
around the front steps. The kids from
Golfview community stood nearest the door.
Most of them had played before.
Another group from South Gate
milled around in the shade of a nearby palm tree. This group smelled strongly of
cigarette smoke and Vitalis hair tonic. Roy didn’t know the South Gate kids very well
because he spent most of the last two years trying to avoid them.
The new coach
stepped out of the field house and addressed them. “Men, line up and have your
signed forms ready when you get to the door.
After you pass your physical, report to the equipment room and check out
your pads. Practice will start this
afternoon at four. Bring your equipment
when you come.”
He called them
“men”. Roy felt tougher already. He rubbed his hand across his face to see if he
could feel a whisker. He thought for a second that he did, but realized that it
was only a pimple. Once through the door
they were told to strip down to their shorts. Roy looked around to see how he measured up with
the rest of the guys. He thought maybe he
should order the Charles Atlas muscle building course after he got home. Once the poking and prodding behind the
curtain was complete, they redressed and picked up their equipment. All were fitted for a helmet, pads, a practice
uniform and game pants. They had to
provide their own jock strap. Roy had never worn one before. He left with a hefty load of armor stuffed
into his football pants. He purchased a
jock strap at the local drug store on his way home. That was embarrassing. Now he stood in front of a full length mirror
and practiced putting it on over his pants.
He had a horrible vision of standing naked and afraid in front of
strangers and not knowing how to put it on.
Once he mastered his most basic piece of equipment, he worked on
figuring out the rest. The remainder of
the day whizzed by as he dreamed of flying tackles and crushing blocks. All of these delivered by him, of course.
He was at the
practice field early. The Golfview physical
training area was a large sandy expanse covered with sand spurs and bounded on
three sides by palmetto, cabbage palms, and other scrub plants. The guys from Golfview subdivision were all
wearing matching shorts and tee shirts.
Some of the group from South
Gate drifted into the brush on the other side of the
fence for one last cigarette. Roy and
his friends stood in between them. They
watched and waited for instructions. The
coaches held a clinic on how to properly put on the uniform. They told the players
where to buy their cleats and other gear not provided by the school.
The practice started with fifty and one
hundred yard time trials. Roy ran as fast as he
could, but when the players were assigned, he was told to report to the
offensive line coach. . He didn’t know the difference between offense
and defense. He was just happy to be
there. The rest of the afternoon was
spent running. He had never run so much in
his life. His lungs hurt, his legs
shook, and his gym clothes were soaked and sticking to his body. Over the next few days they ran until they collapsed. The loose white sand made footing
difficult. Roy hoped he wouldn’t give out. Some guys threw up across the fence at the
edge of the practice field. The heavier
smokers gave up on football altogether. Roy stayed. His mother was disappointed.
After a week of
running, push-ups, jumping jacks, squat thrusts, and agility drills the coach
told them to report to the field in pads.
Roy saw
the world for the first time from inside a football helmet. The curved nylon face mask looked like a
small ladder just below the level of his eyes.
The pads and other gear made him look like quite a physical
specimen. On the other hand it made the
really big guys look like giants. Roy lumbered from the
field house with the rest of the team. The
metal tipped nylon cleats made an awful racket as they ran down the concrete
runway. The coaches and some of the
football dads made a wooden seven-man blocking sled. It was a behemoth. Seven players lined up in a three point
stance in front of the blocking pads attached to its front. On the coach’s whistle they lunged at the
great wooden beast slamming their shoulders into the pads and driving their
legs with short choppy steps. Because the
field was sand, and because the blocking sled was homemade, it rarely
slid. The runners of the sled tipped
forward and dug into the loose turf. The
linemen continued to drive with their legs until the coaches’ second
whistle. A large deep hole formed beneath
their cleated shoes as they strained against the immovable object. Roy’s
calves cramped and his thighs burned but he continued. He wasn’t going to quit. His pads got heavy as the cotton backing
soaked up the sweat.
The offensive
line coach showed them how to make a proper block on a running play. He showed them how plays were diagramed with
X’s and O’s, and where they were to block based on the play called. After that, they learned pass blocking, keeping
their butts low and getting under their opponent. They practiced these moves over and over
again. Then the coaches called the
entire team back together for fumble drills and tackling practice. Roy
thought he was going to die. Every time he
thought it was time for practice to end they would start something else. In the early stages, they practiced
everything at half speed concentrating on their form. The coaches taught them to tackle with their heads
on the same side of the ball carrier as the ball. The wet pads picked up the grit from the
sandy field and rubbed them raw. Just
when Roy thought
he could go on no more, the coach blew his whistle and lined them up at one end
of the field. They were five or six
abreast and on the coach’s whistle they ran one hundred yard wind sprints. At the end of the field they got back in line
and repeated the drill. Before practice
was over, players were stumbling and falling down. Roy dragged his spent body to the showers and
stood under the soothing blast. He left his
equipment in the compartment with his name on it and headed home. He went to bed early that night.
The following days
passed with the same intensity. The
strong stench of ammonia and body odor filled the locker room and increased
with each passing day. Roy thought they could probably win if the
other team had to smell their pads before the game.
During the second
week, the coaches picked up the speed. They
added tackling drills at full speed.
Bull in the ring and head on tackling introduced Roy to the physics of two large objects
meeting helmet to helmet. He dreaded
tackling their big fullback, Mike Rains.
Mike weighed 180 pounds and had a
beard as heavy as that of any man. Roy
got up after some tackles looking out the ear hole of his helmet. If the offensive linemen missed a block, the
coach would make them run the ball with no blockers. Several times the coaches pulled up on the
belt of Roy’s
football pants as he lay sprawled on the ground trying to regain his breath
after a collision. He was playing
football. Roy was put into the lineup at Guard. He was the smallest man on the line. He often pulled away from the line on an end
run called to his side and led the running back around. Most of the players on the offensive and
defensive interior line were over two hundred pounds. Roy
had to try and hold them out on pass plays and block them on running
plays. His battered and bruised body was
evidence of his tenacity. He had been
run over, stepped on, cleated, kneed, poked, jabbed, and flattened, and this at
the hands of his own teammates. He wondered
what playing against other players might be like. The players from South Gate were the toughest. They played dirty, and they enjoyed a good
fight. Some had earned nicknames; Benny
the biter, Knees Orton, Walrus, Scat.
Benny would bite the nearest leg or arm in the pile after a tackle. Once, in the tangle of the pile, he bit
himself, and spent the rest of the game trying to figure out who did it.
The day soon came
when the lineup for the first game was announced. Roy
was chosen to play first team offensive guard.
His mother rued the day when she had agreed to let him play. She believed he would probably quit before
the first game. His dad on the other
hand was quite proud. Central Jr. High
was the largest in the division and they had won every game they played in the
last several years. They were Golfview’s
first opponent. During the week before
the game the coach passed out the new purple game shirts with the gold
numbers. Roy wore number 69. The Golfview Gators were ready to play.
The game was
played under the lights at the high school stadium. Most of the Gator squad had never been there
before, and most had never played under the lights. Their practice field didn’t have any markings
on it. The referees had to line them up
before the first kick-off. The Central
squad looked huge. They won the toss and
chose to receive. Coach Mays gathered
the Golfview players in a big huddle and gave them a pep talk.
“Men, their
return man is named DeAngelo and he is wearing number 32. All of you look for number 32. He is very fast. Hit him low, and hit him hard.”
Coach called Roy’s name for the
kick-off squad. All of the team joined
in a cheer that started low and got louder as they broke the huddle. “Gator bait, gator bait, gator bait….”
Roy
ran onto the field. He looked at the
other team and found number 32 near the goal line. He saw himself shedding blockers and plowing
DeAngelo into the turf in front of the cheering masses. The referee’s whistle blew and Golfview’s
kicker hit the football. It sailed
toward number 32. DeAngelo got the
football and started up field. Roy could see nothing but
number 32. He was going to hit him
untouched. Just as he took his angle, Roy was hit by a crushing
cross-body block. He fell to the turf
and caught the top of DeAngelo’s sock with one finger. The running back high stepped and jerked
free. Roy watched as he crossed the goal line at
the other end of the field. They made
the extra point, and the score was seven to nothing in favor of Central.
The Golfview team
lined up to receive the kickoff. Ronnie
Massey, the scat back received the kick and ran it out to the thirty yard
line. On the first play from scrimmage,
Golfview fumbled the ball and Central recovered. On their next play, they scored another
touchdown. They missed the extra
point. The score was now thirteen to
nothing after three plays. Coach Mays
called a time out and the Golfview team ran to the sidelines. He didn’t call them men.
“I didn’t bring
you here to have you lie down in front of the other team. You either get out there and stop them, or
I’m going to forfeit and take you home.”
The team ran back on to the field. Roy and his team mates played an inspired game
after that. They even scored. At the end of the game, the score was Central
13, and Golfview 7.
The rest of the
season was a dream. Every team that the
scrubby little Golfview team played lost.
Central and Golfview met in the championship game. The scene was very similar to their first
meeting except that Golfview had something to prove. Roy’s dad and mom attended every game. Roy
even had a girlfriend who ran on to the field and hugged him when the final gun
sounded. The championship was a battle
from the first whistle. The ball went
back and forth between the two teams. At
the end of the final quarter, the score was Golfview 14, and Central 7. The clock continued to run during the final
two minutes. Central possessed the ball
and drove to Golfview’s five yard line.
The play gave them a first down.
The big Central full back pounded the center of the line. In three plays he was at the one yard line. A defensive guard for Golfview fell and had
to be carried off the field. Coach Mays
looked to the bench and called for Roy.
“Get in there and
seal off that gap. I don’t want anyone
to make it through. Is that clear?”
“Yes sir” Roy said as he buttoned
his chin strap.
Roy
got down in the awkward feeling four point stance of a defensive lineman. The center and guard across from him looked
huge. He watched the center’s hands and
moved when he snapped the ball. Roy lowered his butt and
pushed his body upward with all his strength wedging himself into the gap. Through the mass of grunting, pushing flesh
he could see the thighs of the big fullback coming straight for him. Roy
lowered the crown of his helmet and strained forward with everything he
had. The knees of Central’s big fullback
hit Roy’s
helmet and the runner fell just short of the goal line.
Roy
could not hear the cheers or remember what happened on the play. He awoke minutes later on the sideline with
his dad looking down at him and his girlfriend standing near by. His mother had already gone to the car. She just couldn’t stand to watch. Later he learned that he had held his
ground. Golfview won.
Roy’s dad, who was gravely ill, didn’t live
long enough to see another season, but sometimes one is enough.
