Number Fifty-Two

Posted on Fri 05/27/05 in My So Called Blog

Today is the release of Adam Sandler’s version of The Longest Yard , starring Burt Reynolds. As a tribute, I am posting this summary of my life’s experience playing football.

Some of the very best times of my life were during my football career (1989-1996). I remember the first practice I ever had. I was 11 and my dad signed me up to play football at Pasadena Lakes Optimist . Until that day, I had only played league baseball and soccer. I had a prick for a coach, named Coach Wesley. He was big and fat and made us do leg lifts until we hated our lives. I’ve always enjoyed the pains of becoming a good football player, but this guy was simply an asshole. I decided after that season to never play football again.

Well, I came back the next year and had a different coach. I fell in love with the game. His name was Carl. He chewed tobacco like any good coach; he also had something like a Camaro mullet and was a lean, mean, coaching machine. He would stand on our stomachs if we didn’t do leg lifts correctly. He was my coach for two years, and he enhanced my understanding of football and for teamwork.

Despite my persistent requests to play Tight End, I was always told I was a Center. I did catch one pass in one game (I have the scar to prove it), but I tripped over my own foot while I was turning to run and slid in the baseball field clay. As I progressed through Optimist football, I learned more and gained more weight… topping out at 145lbs near the end of my 9th grade year. The next season would be high school football.

If any kid entering high school has any coordination or athleticism (or not), he (or she???) should play football. It offers an excellent way of life, somewhere to fit in, self-confidence, friendship, discipline, direction, health of body and mind, a chance to go to college for on scholarship… and if nothing else, playing football can work wonders for the dating game.

In the summer before my sophomore year at Nova High, I attended FSU football camp with many of the more senior players on the team. I remember it like it was yesterday. It was hot, hot, hot… and hot. I was the youngest player with our team, except for Sick Dog, an 8th grader who became one of my best friends. I gained more respect from the senior members of the team as I fought to stay alive at camp. Led by coach Dodaro, our team of 15 or so was quite a force.

To set the timeline straight, I played optimist football during my freshman year (Fall 1993), and I started practicing with the team that spring. FSU camp was that summer before my sophomore year. During spring practice, both JV and Varsity practiced together until the players were divided between the squads before the fall season.

I didn’t play in the Spring Jamboree. That summer I stuck through the rigorous Three-A-Days, which consisted of three separate practices in the Florida heat for about 5 weeks. We ate, drank, and slept football. It was a period for team bonding and fighting for the eyes of our coaches… it was the time to become a name before the Fall Jamboree.

I guess I had somehow crept into the mind of our lineman coach, Coach Miller, because just a week before the Fall Jamboree, I was called in to fill the position of an injured senior. This was my chance to step up and show everyone that I could perform.

Being on the field with the 1st team was both frightening and exhilarating. I tried to keep up with the plays and fought like I had never fought before. I wore jersey number fifty-two.

The first practice after the Jamboree, Coach Miller approached me while I was stretching. He whispered to me that I would be playing varsity that season. I was one of a maybe five sophomores to make the cut. I figured that once Vernon, the injured senior I had temporarily replaced, was healthy again, I would be riding the pine until I had another chance. But, to my surprise, I had won the position. The offensive line which had been rearranged around the injury was now permanent.

I started every game for the remaining three years of high school, except for one: the first playoff game for Nova High in 20 years came on the night of my sisters Bat Mitzvah. The game was important, but I just prayed that my team would pull one off without me. It’s not like the team wasn’t good enough. My concern was a timing issue. Since I was normally undersized by my foes by 40-50 pounds, I had to be quick off the ball. To accomplish that, I snapped the ball fast. And our guard, Mike Watt, who played center in my place, snapped the ball like a turtle. I found out that the timing of the center-quarterback was a big problem, but we won the game anyway. I remember listening to my pocket radio at the Bat Mitzvah for the local high school scores and cheering when I heard that Nova had conquered South Dade.

The second round was against Ely High, where I was to match the most dominant athlete I had ever faced…. Corey Simon. Oh! You’ve heard of him? Well, that’s probably because he played in the NFL Super Bowl this year. I got my ass kicked every single play. He made every tackle that game. And we lost.

Sure enough I faced Simon in the 2nd round the following year. And I am proud to say that I performed much better. In retrospect, I think I was better at holding and not getting caught. We lost to Ely again, and this time, it marked the end of careers for many of my teammates. Many of the seniors cried and longed for another chance to step onto the field. Though I had another year to play, I knew it would not be the same without this crew.

The rest of the story is brief: I played my senior year as team captain, being recognized as a candidate to play for several division one schools. I enjoyed teaching the younger guys about teamwork and encouraging them to treat each other like brothers. With a new head coach and only three returning starters, our team won a few games and missed the playoffs by a long shot. I wondered if I would ever play football again.

I never did play football after that final game. And the day I decided not to play again was a very emotiMostly, I didn’t want to disappoint my father. But, I had satisfied myself and knew I needed to focus my life and on my education. I would have played ball in order to gain entrance to the University of Penn or another Ivy League school, but I didn’t want to move further away from home if it wasn’t for education. The day after I decided to walk-on to the UCF football squad, I decided not to.

I still love to watch the Miami Hurricanes dominate the NCAA and spending Sunday afternoons on the couch with the NFL.

And now, I have great memories to remind me of my football days… that is, until I have a son or daughter of my own to cheer for.