I went out for tackle football as an eighth grader. In those days, Civic Memorial High School had some very fine athletes and they won a lot of football games. By the time I got to the hallowed halls, times had changed. Because we sucked, I played a lot of football even as a sophomore. I earned my nickname, "Cold Gravy." Rick Sauls christened me with that nickname because I was a running back with miserable speed. Cold Gravy didn't run...and neither did Dreith.
By the time I was a junior, I was starting as a offensive and defensive back. On the defensive side, I was the benefactor of a couple of spectacular collisions that cemented my reputation as a hard nosed defender who loved contact. Only I knew that was a total charade. You see, on at least three occasions in important games, I stumbled into plays and wasn't quick enough to avoid some hellacious collisions. The coaches went wild....the video recorded the carnage....and the other players staggered to get back to their feet. I took the bows....but the truth is....I would have rather been anywhere else on the field but in the collision. I lucked my way into some tenacious tackles.
Here's one of my best memories of Ike Rhein Field, the home of the Eagles. The lights that illuminated the field on Friday night were horrible...and they were way too short. Every punter in the conference could punt the football above the lights. On a number of occasions, our punt returners would get confused and be nowhere near the ball when it bolted back out of the darkness.
Our coach discovered that I had the uncanny ability to know where the ball would re-enter the field of play. And I had good hands, so I could catch the ball. The only problem was, after I caught it, I was cold gravy. Other players (all other players on our team) were faster. In the end, I got the job because a safe catch was preferable to not being in the zip code of a descending ball.
My other great memory of being a football player on the good ship Eagle was our constant adjustments. We would lose one week...completely scrap the offense....and put in another one before our next game. On one such trip to Highland, I was asking a friend who I was supposed to block on a specific play? As he was trying to help me, the Coach had the bus driver turn on the lights and asked for our attention. It was then I realized that Coach Gary McMillen was truly a leader of men.
"Gentlemen," said Coach. "The coaching staff and I have a key for you. We have discovered that when Highland goes into the Wing T formation....they will either pass or run."
Dead silence.
I guess all of the other guys were thinking the same thing I was thinking.....What else were they gonna do----punt?
Needless to say, we lost that night.
In fact we lost most nights. As I look back, we had three guys who played on that God-awful team who later in life became medical doctors. I think it was because we were always hurt. But I have a bigger thought about that fact.
Every week we went out there and got murdered. We dusted ourselves off, got back up...got treatment and then stupidly believed we could win next Friday. That's an incredible lesson. It is very instructive of life. And because we never let anything truly beat us, most of the players on that team turned out to be very successful in life. Three medical doctors.....a couple of educational leaders and many young men who became leaders in business and in the community.
I look back fondly. I still can feel the pride of wearing that purple uniform. I can still hear the marching Eagles under the direction of Ernest Pinky Opp playing "Baby Elephant Walk" at halftime and the rockin' sound of Don Simpson's voice saying----"Welcome to Rhine Field, Home of da Eagles."
No one will ever put me on the list of all-time great Eagles. Ric Stotler? Great.
Kenny Hammons? Awesome. Dennis Jones? Very Talented.
Mike Dreith? Cold Gravy.
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