We were all drenched with sweat from another grueling practice. Our smell must have been dreadful, as we all had been crammed into a small classroom with little ventilation. The door was kept closed in case anybody from the other team happened to be snooping on us. We sat in the drivers ed room, where Coach had the projector hooked up to a VCR; we had just got done watching film on our cross town rivals. These heathens had stolen state from us the year prior; the next night we would face them and have our vengeance. As the film stopped and the lights went on, Coach took his usual position front and center and readied himself for yet another rousing speech. This would be the big one; this game would determine if we would go to state, and the pain of last year’s loss against peers a few miles away still cut deep.
Coach looked out upon us as if he was a great Khan about to address his warriors before they razed a fortified city under siege. He took a deep breath, let it out slowly, then looked down. As he looked up, there were tears in his eyes. This man was more than human; he was legend. He had more state championships to his claim then anyone in state-ever. To boot, we were in the largest division, in one the country’s largest high school conferences. What he said was seen as gospel on high; players, teachers, and parents alike jumped immediately to his slightest commands. Throngs followed him wherever he went. To see his eyes wet was like a thunderbolt to the heart. A near silent gasp barely echoed through the room as we witnessed a depth of emotion previously unseen. “Men, this is the best time of your lives.” He went on to describe how this would be the pinnacle moment in all of our lives. After this, nothing would compare. We had to give it all the next night, because this would be how we defined ourselves for decades to come. It didn’t get any better than playing high school ball, he said. His voice ranged from quiet, to booming, to slow and quiet again as he hammered his point home in the skulls of my teammates. I looked around the room from my chair in the back, there wasn’t a dry eye to be found. Guys patted each other’s shoulders in realization that the word of The Man had been delivered straight into their souls. I thought “ you got to be fucking kidding me”. I caught myself before my eyes rolled, thank god the lights were still down. Realizing that this social situation apparently called for me to cry, I bit down on my tongue hard, and thought about how my grandma, who I had loved very much, died when I was eight. I was able to get some wetness going in the eyeball region, and quickly mirrored the body language of my teammates.
I had always thought this whole high school football thing was ridiculous; perhaps it was because of my upbringing. Sports existed as mild entertainment, but serious matters existed that my father worked to address in his job as a fed. The seriousness of sport was comical in comparison to terrorism, foreign intelligence threats, and kidnappers, where lives were at stake. I had barely any idea of how football was played before I joined the team my freshman year. Decades later, I still can’t tell you the difference between a running back or a defensive back. One coach I had actually thought I was mentally challenged because I couldn’t grasp the difference between various plays, options, or whatever. As a lineman, my job was always the same. After the snap I hit the guy in front of me until some dude blew a whistle. Why should I care what the rest of these guys were doing? No way I was going to waste time studying plays when I could either be working, wrenching on my jeep, or reading a book. As a fledgling teenager, my motivations for joining the team were simple:
- Cheerleaders
- Grasping the basic idea that football is a stand in for more violent gladiatorial events, I knew I’d get to hit people
Looking back, I was basically channeling all those new hormones that were ravaging my pimple covered body.
The underlying theme of Coach’s speech just didn’t make sense to me. How could this be the best time of my life? My high school experience wasn’t bad, having joined the football clique on a whim, I was shielded from anyone tormenting me. Given, as a non-starting linemen, I was about bottom of the totem pole on the team, but the football clique itself was towards the top of the rigorously hierarchical society that was my high school. I had a few friends in my social strata from the team, but mostly hung around with the gear heads and stoners. Ultimately, I wasn’t living the glamorous life of our varsity starters who were constantly partying and rotating through cheerleaders. I was just another face in the crowd, who rarely got invited to parties and was probably working anyways. Looking back, I should have lived in the moment and enjoyed that time of relatively little real responsibility. I was more worried about making money so I could get out from under my parents and get the hell away from my stepford hometown where everything seemed soft and fake. To think that this was the culmination of any of our existences seemed crazy, though I knew it was true for the starters. The starters that had graduated anywhere from a few years to a few decades ago were always around our sidelines, and the longing in their eyes was palatable. They would occasionally talk to us, echoing our Coach’s thesis. All had put on weight, were plugging along in normal life, but couldn’t stop reminiscing about glory days.
Meanwhile, I thought there was more to look forward to after graduation. I couldn’t wait to live on my own, and be in charge of my own life. I’d read countless books about special military units, and what they did seemed way more fun and satisfying than running back and forth on grass with an oblong ball.
Ultimately, I think that thanks to pure randomness I was right, and I now count myself lucky that I had a less than stellar high school life which propelled me to try and live the fuck out of every day since. Football was rife with military metaphors; each game was a war, our teammates were our brothers, we were in the trenches, blah blah blah. Even before joining the actual military, I’d learned enough from books written by ‘Nam vets to think this was ludicrous, if not offensive. How could a silly game where we wore tights and pads even compare to the real world out there? I must say that having actually gone to a combat zone and served in an marginally elite surveillance unit, the parallel with team sports was so non-existent it was comical. Service in the military and later in law enforcement was at times perilous but with an equal measure of exhilaration. As I’ve moved around from one specialty to the other over the past two decades in various services, life just seems to keep getting better. In step with that has been an increasingly satisfying social life outside these endeavors. First it was partying hard with fellow unit members, which drifted into dating my now wife, from there spawning a couple of kids while ensconced in absolute suburbia. If you told me 20 years ago I’d enjoy going out to brunch with my family this much, I’d laugh in your face. Now, I can’t think of anything better, and wouldn’t trade anything for it. Everything seems to keep getting better, even when I think I’ve reached the pinnacle. I can’t even fathom what will come next, but I can’t wait to see what it is. Sure, there’s been rough times. Friends have been killed, I’ve watched others get shot, and I don’t like the intimate familiarity I’ve developed with our local trauma centers. There have been many a long night with sick kids sandwiched between extended work shifts. But it feels like that’s the unfortunate price of living a life worth living. I appreciate time with our son so much because we didn’t know if he’d make it those first few days. My friends and I laugh so hard because we know we’re the lucky ones who made it out alive. Deeper valleys lead to taller mountains, and we go all out because we know nothing is guaranteed.
Back then I held some resentment towards Coach and the players that were caught in his aura. But these days it’s more like sympathy. Those poor souls peaked once because no one told them that the peaks will keep coming as long as you keep throwing yourself out there. I know now my Coach was right. This is the best time of your life, right now. Enjoy it, revel in it, let it propel you forward. I just wish he’d told us that there were many more best days to come, most of which we could never have fathomed. You do have to leave it all out there, but you have to keep doing it if you don’t want to get stuck in the past.
