Worried About My Equipment

While watching the NFL playoffs with my step-son, the conversation turned to the equipment worn by the pros…and how it had changed over the years.

So much has changed in the game since I had a short and somewhat undistinguished high school football career at Civic Memorial High School in Southern Illinois. Even the coaching has dramatically changed.

Our coach at CM during my years was Gary McMillen, a longtime CM assistant coach who was elevated prior to my sophomore year to head up the program. I truly love Gary. We became close friends after my high school career and I would never do or write anything that would disrespect him. But boy, we were bad from 1972-1975 which just happened to coincide with his three year career as head coach.

Because of an injury to our top receiver, Gary Bruening, I was pressed into service as a sophomore. I was designated as the guy who would run in the play for the offense. Coach was trying to install a pro type offense and it just wasn’t working. I would stand dutifully next to Coach when we would get the ball and after the first play, which was predetermined, he would tell me a play and a formation and I would run it in to Johnnie Mike Bast, our quarterback. Johnnie Mike was a very good athlete and had his own opinion concerning the plays that we needed to run.

So, when the first play of the series was complete….McMillen would say to me “Wing T formation…38 sweep.” I’d nod, and run into the huddle. Remember, all of the offensive players were seniors and juniors. I’d get to the huddle and Johnnie Mike would look at me and I’d say, “Wing T formation, 38 sweep.”

Bast would look down, shake his head…..and say…..”Let’s throw a pass. Passing formation….Z pass left on one…..Break.”

Who was I to contradict the quarterback?

I could hear McMillen screaming the moment we would break the huddle and get into the passing formation. After the play, I’d run to the sidelines and Mac would scream----“I wanted 38 sweep! What the Hell is going on out there?” I assured him I was delivering the message as per his instructions. But when the series was done and we would punt, Mac would make a bee-line for Johnnie Mike and ask why he was not following orders?

Bast would look at him with big puppy dog eyes and say----“Honest Coach, I’m just running what Dreith told me to run. I’d never make my own play up……honest.”

After about a half of football, I became the ex-play-calling-runner.

There are a couple of very memorable stories about Coach Mac that spring to mind. One of which was on a bus ride to Highland, a conference foe. We were losing and groping for an identity which meant we changed the offense every week. I was a junior and started on both sides of the ball. But because we had changed the offense again prior to the game, we were all cramming on the bus ride.

“Who do I block on the 27 counter?” I would ask the other members of the backfield…..and they had their own questions. We were really confused and primed for another ass-kicking….

About halfway there, the bus lights came on and Mac was standing at the front of the bus.

“Attention…..I need your attention please,” the coach yelled.

“I have a key…..I’ve been reviewing my notes and this is very important,” he said in a stern tone.

“When Highland gets into the full house backfield formation……they are going to either pass or run the ball.”

Dead silence.

I think we were stunned at the simplicity of the statement. For a moment----if Highland has the ball-----and gets into any formation------what else can they do? They are going to either pass or run…..or punt. But with that, Coach sat down and the lights were turned off. As it turned out, his key was right on the mark. Highland went into the full house backfield and ran and passed all over the field to win in an impressive fashion as we asked each other in the huddle our blocking assignments for the 27 counter.

Then there was the time we were practicing and a huge lightning storm boiled up and a bolt of lightning struck a mile or two off in the west.

“Everybody…..quickly……under those trees!” screamed Mac. We all knew it was a stupid thing to do….but we did it anyway.

While standing under an elm tree as the storm roared through, Tony Wahl, a senior, in a very understated way looked down at Coach. Tony was 6-5 and very quiet.

“You know Coach,” Tony started. “Lightening strikes one of these trees… We are all dead.”

McMillen rubbed his chin and shouted-----“Everyone out from underneath the trees!”

We won seven games in three years and Coach Mac got a pink slip from the superintendent of schools. He probably didn’t deserve it.

I didn’t help him keep his job. In fact, we all should have known that I was not going to be the reincarnation of Ricci Stotler, Dennis Jones or Kenny Hammons…..three Bethalto football greats….when I was told to put on my practice gear for my first practice at the junior high.

Standard gear included a girdle that had two side pads….and one big pad for our ass bone.

I’m sure I am not the first young man to have made this mistake…..but I might be the most remembered in Bethalto football history for how I wore my girdle pads.

I put the butt pad in front.

Wasn’t worried about my tailbone……

"Give the ball to Cold Gravy"

High School Football has started in West Texas and in Southern Illinois. I don't watch it anymore but for many years it was my passion on Friday night. Here in Texas, it is an obsession. In my hometown in my youth, it was very important to me..

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.