As a high school senior, I had been thrown off the basketball team. I was the 14th man on the 12-man squad and I dressed every third game. Ace (our coach) did not appreciate my rockn’roll outfit at the end of the bench during the other two, and when I started missing away games because I was playing gigs in Philly, he gave me the ax. No accounting for taste…
Maybe it was my shot putting for the track team that got me a ticket to West Chester State, probably not (sic) but let the record show, I had been accepted as a Physical Education Major and had become a Golden Ram.
I had moments of brilliance on the freshman soccer field at ‘State’, but my days as an all-star athlete were behind me.
During those years as a Golden Ram, we opened for Jay and the Americans in concert at Mt. Saint Mary’s College.
We had to arrive at the field house early that afternoon for a sound check. Afterward, we wandered out onto the field nearby, wondering how we would killthe time before our performance. There were 5, maybe 6 guys there throwing around a football, not unusual except for their long hair which was at the time. After some tentative hello’s, a game ensued. There were only four of us, but we didn’t see any problem.
They sucked. We scored at will. Sometimes in the huddle we would laugh and say, “This time, let’s fake the touchdown.” On one particular play, I leveled one of them while I was leading interference for C.D.
Later, before the show, we were invited to the dressing room to meet Jay and the Americans. (We had already dressed in the men’s room) Much to our mutual surprise, we recognized each other from our earlier encounter on the football field. We all laughed, except for that background singer who still couldn’t stand up straight…
I played a tune that night called “Harlem Nocturne”. The Hollywood Buzz (an obnoxious saxophone sound I had learned to make) was no longer in fashion. Actual ability was now required. I finished the tune with several dramatic arpeggios, ending on a high note not intended to be possible on the alto sax. There was a brief pause before the applause began, at first polite and then loud. There was no whistling or screaming, but there were so many in the field house that night…
I confess to a tearful moment, happy thinking there was hope for resolution, no need for conflict between my athletic heart and the music in my soul…Catholics are cool…