Some may recall from my previous writings that I have had experience as a participant in athletics and sport, varied and at times confusing I suppose, lol)) I could never decide in which sport I would seek stardom and enduring fame. Silly me, lol))
My quest was speckled with random moments of brilliance like that foggy fall afternoon on the soccer field at West Chester State College. It had been raining and the field was muddy and wet. At the time, soccer balls were made of leather and without weatherproof coatings. When a leather soccer ball gets soaked and soggy, it becomes a rock…Remember this, lol))
We freshman would sometimes scrimmage with the varsity. I had become a first string player on the freshman squad, but on this particular day after my poor play against the varsity I was relegated to the red team and waited on the sidelines for my chance to rejoin the scrimmage. I was pissed…Remember this, lol))
One of the freshman assistant coaches was hated by the freshman and varsity alike because he was the one who blew the whistle every day at the beginning of practice to change our 3 mile run between jog and sprint intervals. It wasn’t so much that he blew the whistle, but as a somewhat accomplished gymnast (apparently), he would do cartwheels and hand stands in the middle of the field as he blew his polished silver whistle. He was always impeccably attired in coaching apparel, purple and gold West Chester collared shirt, white shorts, clean sweat socks perfectly even from left to right, polished black coaching shoes with white laces, and of course his coaching hat with a perfectly rounded brim that never fell off despite his gymnastics. He was short too…Remember this, lol))
Finally, near the end of practice, I got a chance to return to the action as a frustrated member of the red team. I was a fullback in the defensive scheme used at that time. My primary job was to stay on our end of the field, attack offensive gestures of the opposition, and clear any ball that came our way. At one point the ball came rolling toward me with no one nearby. I kicked that ball with all the force I could muster, fueled by frustration and anger. Little did I know, our ‘beloved’ assistant was only about 10 feet away. The ball hit him in the side of his head and knocked off his hat. He fell into the mud, dazed, disheveled, and finally dirty like the rest of us…I was carried off the practice field that day as a hero…I remember))
…to be continued.
