On the way home from my parents house this evening, I stopped and watched the tail end of football practice at Mitchell.  I have grown to hate this time of year, and love it at the same time.  I love it....well because it's football season. But I hate it because I'm not a football player anymore.  I wanted SO bad to get pads on and hit with the guys that were practicing.  Be LOUD like I was. to motivate the slow guys during conditioning.  MAN I MISS THOSE DAYS!  When I was watching them, i could see myself out there not so many years ago, yelling at the top of my lungs "OORAH!!!!!"  like I always used to.  I know it's stupid, but football does crazy things to a guy.  I started thinking of my journey through school, and how football is the ONLY thing that got me through it.  I imagined myself preparing for a game, much like a Spartan soldier may have done to prepare for battle. The coaches handed out our uniforms, freshly washed and pressed, every thursday evening after practice.  The game pants were stiff because of the starch. and the jerseys always smelled wierd...I loved that smell, it smelled like a football game.  I'd get my game pants, socks and cleats on first thing, WAY before the game ever started, Just to re-familiarize myself with the way i could move in them. I'd be normal for a little while, and then, about an hour before game time, i'd start to feel sick.  I'd start to feel the adrenaline surging through my viens.  I'd find a quiet corner in the locker room, and forbid anyone to talk to me, or even come near me.  I sat there for a minute or two, enjoying the emotional high, and feeling the caged beast inside of me start to awaken.  I would shut the world off.  All sounds, and smells, and sights literally faded away.  It was just me in a corner, like a lion sitting in his den, waiting to hunt his prey.  After the world was gone, I would think.  I would think about my responsibilities on the field, my checks, my stunts, my oponants.  How bad I wanted to get that rush of driving some poor soul into the ground using nothing but my shoulders and arms. How bad I wanted to chase the ball carrier down the field and dive from behind, and take him out in mid air (that actually happened quite a few times, it was awesome! I may not have had the best 40 time in the world, but i could chase ANYONE down on the field).   I would stay in this transe like state until after pre game drills.  I would  go through the motions during the drills, keeping my mind clear of distractions. Then we would head back to the locker room and wait to take the field for the game.  I would begin to come out of my self induced acid trip (lol) after I sat down in my corner again.  I would take my helmet off, set it on the ground, put my right hand on it, kneel over it, and pray.  I would thank God for my team, my coaches, and my ability to play that night, I would  pray for God to keep everyone (on our team) safe, I prayed that he would allow me to play well, and ofcourse if he would allow us to win.  After I got up from my prayer, it was time for business.  And what's the first thing you do to prepare for business???? MAKE SURE YOU LOOK GOOD!!!!  I always believed that if you look like crap, you'll play like crap.  I would neatly tuck my shirt in, roll my white, mid-calf socks down neatly over my ankles revealing my orange or blue kneehigh socks (depending on if I was playing before, or after I left Fort Wayne) that were pulled all the way up undler my knee pads.  I would very tightly re-tie my cleats, ALWAYS with the bow tied to the inside (superstition).  Then I would spend what seemed like an eternity arguing with myself weather I should pull my jersey over my cowboy collar, or to leave it under.  Then i would make sure my chin strap on my helmet was perfectly even, and that I had no dirt on my helmet.  lastly I would put my gloves on.  I cut the fingers off at the beginning of each season, don't ask me why.  I would pray one more time, and then let the beast loose!  I was LOUD!!!  I mean REALLY LOUD!!  yelling on and off the field.  I'm sure EVERYONE in the stands heard me obsinities on the field, and cheering for the offense when I was on the sideline. Man, i'm getting a rush just typing this!!

Alot of you that really know me, ok, even if you barely know me, you know that I LOVE football. Football at any level.  Why?  I'm not sure why.  The first football game I can remember watching i think was in '92, when the cowboys beat the bills in the superbowl.  I don't remember much of it, but what I do remember is my dad telling me of when he played football.  Now, keep in mind, my dad is in his mid 60's, so it was probably a little different that what YOUR dad may have told you. he used to tell me how the coaches made them put sticks of smelling salt in thier helmets to keep from passing out when they got hit too hard.  I think THAT'S when i became hooked.  I realized then that Football, unlike the WWF wrestling i watched at the time, was REAL! People really do get hurt, and people really do hurt other people.  And the object became, for me at least, to be the one doing the hurting.  I started playing football, well organized football, in 6th grade.  I had loved and practiced the game since I was 7, so you can emagine how nervous I was that first day of try-outs. I knew that i had an idea of what it was all about, maybe moreso than the other kids, but I was nervous nonetheless.  I almost puked when they handed me my shoulderpads and helmet for the first time.  It's kinda like studying really hard for a test, and then showing up to class, and being worried that you're not going to pass.  I knew that I was pretty good, even that first day of tryouts, but whenever I messed up, I was harder on myself than the coaches were. 

     I think playing football became an obsession for me that same year, even that same week in 6th grade.  After the final cuts were made, and I was officially a Jefferson Middle School "Patriot", the real practices started.  We were in full dress, and we were to start hitting that Thursday, the day after the final cut.  I remember it like it was yesterday.  One person was the ball carrier, and the other a defender.  there was a diamond marked off in the grass by cones, and the ballcarrier stood at a point.  The defender stood in the middle.  The ballcarrier's objective was to get to another point in the diamond while still on his feet. And the defender, as you can guess, was there to stop him.  I was the third or forth person in line for the drill, and was to be a ballcarier first, then defender.  the kid I was up against was a little bigger than me, his name was Andrew Byerline.  I didn't like him much because while I was getting made fun of for being one of the the fat kids, he was "God's gift to everything".  The coach tossed me the ball, waited a second or two, then blew the wistle.  I ran right, but was BLASTED before I could reach the halfway point of the diamond.  If you've never been tackled at any point in your life, let me tell you...IT HURTS!  And anyone who says it doesn't is a damn liar!!  OK, I had bee beaten, and I was pissed!  I held myself to a pretty high standard when it came to football, and I had always imagined lowering my shoulder, and bowling someone over, but when I actually got the chance, I failed......miserably.  So needless to say, my mild dislike of Andrew Byerline rose to rage and hate in just a matter of 2 seconds.   Now it was MY turn! I sounded like the typical angry fat kid as I stood in the middle of that diamond and waited for coach to blow that wistle, and Andrew to try his hand at the drill. I was growling, and snarling, and my body was literally twitching. I could tell by the look on his face that he thought this was going to be easy.  he had just overpowered me like I was nothing, and it was time for him to do it again.  But I was intent on proving otherwise.  The wistle blew, he ran to my right, and I took off!  I lowered my shoulder, but my facemask on the ball, and drove him into the ground, a textbook tackle!!  I had tasted blood, and I wanted more!

     I firmly believe that the key to being a great football player isn't talent, even though alot of us had plenty of it.  No, the key to being a great football player is fearlessness.  Believing that when you step on that field, YOU are the alpha dog.  Having the midset that it's "kill or be killed" out there, and you are a murderer.  I remember a friend of mine telling a guy across the line from him in high school that the only reason he was still in the game, and not bleeding on the sideline was because he  wanted to hit him just one more time..... he broke that guy's ankle on the next play.  THAT'S what a great football player is to me.

     After I got my first taste of what football was really about, I started, like I said, obsessing.  I worked out CONSTANTLY, and watched the saturday, adn sunday football games through brand new eyes. Pretty soon, I was one of the strongest players on the field.  It didn't hurt that I had been about half way through puberty iether, and was growing pretty rapidly.  By the end of Middle School, I went from being one of the fat kids, to being the guy everyone though was on steroids!  HAHAHA!!!  But then came High school. Bigger guys, from all different schools. having to compete again for a starting spot? 6th grade ALL OVER AGAIN!!!!!!  I'm tired of typing for now, so i'll close this blog. But i'll continue later.