A Captain Amidst Majors

In honor of fall, today's post will involve an old football story:

In my freshman year of high school, we were warming up for our second game of the season. As we stretched, the coach walked by and told me that I would be a captain for the game. I nodded then he walked away while I pondered the awesome responsibilities that might be required of me.

I wondered if I should move to the front of the team to lead the exercises. But there were already two players leading, and it would have caused a scene if I pushed them aside. But I was the captain. Didn't I have the duty to take over? Instead I decided I would do some shouting to inspire the team.

“Yeah, okay, woo-hoo!” I shouted through my helmet

The player next to me looked at me and said, “God bless you.” He apparently thought I sneezed.

Just before gametime, the referee led my co-captain and myself to the middle of the field for instructions and the coin toss.

The referee said, “Now when there is a penalty, raise your hand so we can find you and go over the possibilities. We don't want you looking at your coaches for assistance. This will be a good learning experience.”

He then flipped the coin, and I called, “Heads.”

The coin came up tails and allowed our opponent to get the ball first. As we jogged off the field, my co-captain said, “You idiot! We always call tails.”

“What? Since when? Nobody told me that.”

He just sighed.

When we got back to the sideline, I saw him talking to the coach who then glared at me. Apparently I had missed the super secret captain's meeting where such matters were discussed.

“It's not like the coin toss is going to decide the game,” I told myself in a little pep talk.

Five minutes later, we came off the field after the other team had taken the ball and driven right down the field for a touchdown. I noticed the coach frowning at me again.

Later in the game when were down 20 – 0 (and reducing the importance of the coin flip), the other team was flagged for a penalty. The referee grabbed me by the shoulder and steered me away from my teammates and away from my coach on the sidelines. He started explaining my options, but having played and seen enough football, I already knew the correct decision.

Regardless, out of the corner of my eye, I could see my coach practically doing backflips trying to signal me what to do. Meanwhile, my teammates followed the referee and myself as we seemed to dance around the field trying to avoid coaches and players. My teammates yelled at me to accept the play and not the penalty which I had already decided to do.

“We'll decline,” I told the referee while motioning my hands in the normal referee decline signal.

“What?” asked the referee as if he were a novice.

“We don't want the penalty.”

“So you want the play?”

“Yes, that's what I said.”

The referee then approached the sidelines where he announced, “The penalty is declined.” He waved his hands below the waist just like I had done a minute before.

The game ended shortly thereafter. But I have always been annoyed that I got blamed for something I didn't know (always call tails) and everyone else took credit for the one penalty decision I had to make.

Later that season, that day's co-captain and myself were named captains again. As we went out for the coin toss, I told him he could make the call.

The referee tossed the coin and my co-captain said, “Heads.”

I stared at him in disbelief as the coin turned up heads, and we got the ball first.

As we ran off the field, I said, “I thought we always called tails?”

“I just had a feeling.”

The coach slapped him on the back when we got back to the sideline. I guess some captains are born leaders and others are destined to be stuck in a regiment of majors.

Cool Hand Leach

Today we’re going to drop in on Texas Tech football practice and see how things are going:

The players, dressed in identical uniforms, come through the chain link fence to the practice field. The assistant coaches order them to count off. Each player shouts loud enough for the coaches to hear, until all 105 have counted off. The head coach rises from his rocking chair on the porch just outside the field. An assistant coach calls out to him, “105, zero in the box, one transfer. All 106 accounted for.”

Nodding, the head coach comes out in front of the players who are now lined up in several rows on the field. “James, step forward,” he yells.

Two assistant coaches escort James from the ranks toward a small wooden building the size of an outhouse. Behind a short wall, James removes his uniform and puts on a flannel dress.

The head coach addresses the team. “When a man’s head ain’t right, he gets a little rabbit in him. It’s my job to set his head straight.” He nods toward the coaches, who lock James into the small box.

The rest of the players break down and split into their various position units. The offensive linemen go through drills to get loose and practice their basic footwork. A big powerful lineman yells out, “Takin’ it off here, boss.”

“Take it off, Luke,” the coach responds.

The lineman takes off his shirt, his hard sweaty body glistening in the hot sun. Further down, a thin wide receiver who’s been standing around juggling footballs says, “Takin’ it off here, boss.”

The assistant coach just stares him down and slowly shakes his head. The head coach catches the assistant’s eye and makes a slashing gesture across his throat.

“Taylor, step out,” the assistant barks at the juggling receiver. He escorts Taylor toward the sand pit where the receivers practice their footwork. He pushes Taylor face first into the sand. Another assistant throws a shovel in the sand next to Taylor.

“Son, why is your sand in Boss Leach’s sandpit?”

Taylor just looks at him, confused.

The assistant kicks the shovel up against Taylor. “Get your sand out of Boss Leach’s sandpit.”

Taylor stands up and begins to shovel the sand out of the sandpit.

Further down the field, the defensive and offensive linemen are squaring off against each other one-on-one. A huge chiseled fifth-year senior goes against an underdeveloped freshman. The freshman comes charging in and the senior drops him to the ground with a forearm to the head. The freshman gives his head a shake, gets to his feet, and charges again. With beefy paws, the senior picks him up by the shoulders and holds him up for a second. “Stay down,” he whispers to the kid before throwing him back into the crowd of linemen. The linemen try to hold the kid down but the kid shakes them off and busts through toward the senior again. This time the senior lowers his shoulder into the gut of the freshman who gasps and hunches over. The senior lifts him over his shoulder and carries him to the side of the practice field.

Back at the sandpit, Taylor leans on his shovel after successfully removing all of the sand from the pit. An assistant coach walks up. “Why you got your sand on my practice field?”

Taylor stares at him. “Well, I had to get it out of--”

“Shut your mouth, boy! Get your sand off my practice field. Now!”

Taylor obediently starts shoveling the sand back into the sandpit.

On the other side of the field, Boss Leach watches the offense go through its game plan. On one play, a receiver streaks straight down the field. The quarterback steps back and launches a long heave just as the receiver stops and breaks toward the sideline. The ball falls easily into the hands of a defensive safety who returns it for a touchdown. Boss Leach throws down his clipboard, saunters over to the receiver, and stares at the receiver through sunglasses. “Son, what we have here is a failure to communicate. I said X-Down-Go, not X-Up-Stop!”

Back at the sandpit, an exhausted Taylor continues to shovel the sand back into the pit. A coach approaches. “Taylor, I thought I told you to get your sand out of Boss Leach’s sandpit?”

“But, but--Boss Sadler said not to put it on his field.”

“I don’t care. Get your sand out of Boss Leach’s pit.”

Taylor drops to the ground and starts crying. “I want to move my sand, just tell me where. I can’t take it. I’ll do anything you want. Just let me be. I’ll take care of the hounds if you want me to. You’ll see, I’ll be the best, most obedient football player you’ve ever seen. Please, please just let me be.”

The assistant sighs. “Hit the showers, Taylor.”

A garbage can is banged loudly from the side of the field. Boss Leach tells the players to bring it on in. Once again, they count off as they go through the fence toward the locker room. After they are through, the assistant yells to Boss Leach, “104, one in the box, one transfer. All 106 accounted for.”

Boss Leach sits in his rocking chair and sips a glass of iced tea. He points toward the box then pushes up the edge of his hat with his glass. An assistant lets James out of the box.

Back in the locker room, the players quickly shower and head toward the chow hall. En route, a player is overheard saying, “I swear I can eat 50 eggs in an hour.”