September Grass

James Taylor, the singer and songwriter, continues to perform. One of his most recent songs “September Grass” made me think back about my youth and football in my little hometown back in Illinois.

The lyrics are so poignant to me. I feel them.

Well, the sun's not so hot in the sky today
And you know I can see summertime slipping on away
A few more geese are gone, a few more leaves turning red
But the grass is as soft as a feather in a featherbed
So I'll be king and you'll be queen
Our kingdom's gonna be this little patch of green

Won't you lie down here right now
In this September grass
Won't you lie down with me now
September grass

Oh the memory is like the sweetest pain
Yeah, I kissed the girl at a football game
I can still smell the sweat and the grass stains
We walked home together. I was never the same.

Friday night football was a ritual of fall. The crisp clean air, the pride in putting on the colors of your hometown and your school…..the sheer exhilaration of knocking down another guy….or in my case…..being knocked down. I guess it is important to clarify that I never “kissed the girl at a football game.” Maybe afterwards….but never during.

I have remarkably clear memories of everything good that happened to me on a football field. And I am a bit foggy on the bad stuff. But I do remember the September Grass. I can see Rhine Field in Bethalto as it was….a dark and unattractive place to play football. I can still hear Superintendent Don Simpson’s toneless voice say, “Welcome to Rhine Field…Home of da Eagles.” I can see the men of the village who stood on the hill overlooking the field second-guessing every play call and personnel decision made by the coaching staff.

Things are so different here and now. I traveled last week to Sweetwater, Texas to watch the Snyder Tigers run through a $10,000 inflatable tunnel onto an artificial surface while a fifty piece band played loudly. I doubt we spent $100 on Rhine Field..and I will always remember Ernest “Pinky” Opp’s voice describing the halftime show while the marching dozen tried carry a tune.

“And now the marching Eagles will form into the marching Elephant and play….Baby Elephant Walk.” Our school colors were purple and gold. Our band wore red blazers because they got a deal on them from Alton High.

On the sidelines in Sweetwater, three coaches each signaled the next play to a quarterback who looked at his decoder on his wrist. We ran a sophomore in with instructions.

I don’t mean to sound disrespectful to Texas High School Football….because it is a religion here.

It is just not the game I remember and cherish in my memories.

And Snyder players, when they get to be 53, won’t be able to remember the first thing about the smells and the feel of September Grass.

As JT said in his song……it’s just not the same.