ONE (originally posted August 2013)

       It felt like I had been here before.  I could smell the grass.  It must have been just cut.  I could hear the sound of the summer cicadas in the trees, rising and falling in a rhythm that only cicadas understand.   Of course, I had been here before.  I had just dropped Sugar off for the first summer soccer practice of the season at high school.  This was the beginning of her second season of high school soccer.  It felt different this morning, though, and I didn’t know why.
One crow squawked to another crow in another tree somewhere out of the blue, and the other crow answered from not so far away.

     “One!” I heard them count.  Then I heard the whistle.  I looked to my right and I saw them through the trees that lined the parking lot.  Through the summer morning fog that rises from the grass on almost every late August morning, I saw them.  They were lined up perfectly and they moved in unison.  As they moved they barked out their cadence, starting at one and ending at ten.  When they started the cicadas stopped.  When they stopped, the cicadas started again.  The John Carroll football team did not know it, but when they sat down in that wet, freshly cut grass that morning, I sat down with them. 

     “One!” I heard, as I reached out to grab the toes of my cleats to stretch my hamstrings for the next ten seconds, just like every other player on the field.  I looked up and saw the captains for that day.   Billy, and Marty, and Tommy.   Bill went on to become very successful in business, Marty in real estate, Tom in the technology field.  On my left was Lenny.  Len is an insurance executive now.  Next to him was Scotty.  Scott is a partner in a law firm.  On my right was Richie.  I have lost touch with Rich.  I wish I hadn't.  Dicky was next to him.  Dicky works for one of the largest financial corporations in the country.  In front of me was Kevin.  He founded and continues to lead a successful patient advocacy organization.  In front of him was Tim.  Tim is a lawyer.  He has his own firm and would help me when I needed help the most one day.  Two rows behind me was Joe.  He would become a technology wizard and, like Tim, would reach out to help me too one day, but in a much different fashion.  One row behind me was another kid, who like me, would struggle and claw through life, always searching for something, but never quite knowing what that something was.  Always good enough, but never great.   

     I rolled over on my stomach for the pushups.  As I waited for the captains to start the cadence, I looked at the grass through my facemask.  About 2 inches from my face, I saw six little ants dragging the carcass of a much larger bug to a very important place.  It must have been an important place because they were in quite a hurry.

     “One!” we yelled.  I pushed up.  Just like everyone else. I pushed up ten times. Just like everyone else.  Then, I rolled onto my back for the sit ups.  It was the same thing every day.  But that day, as I looked at the sky through my facemask, I saw Clarence Braye.  Clarence had died in an accident a few months before.  The day before he was to graduate.  Clarence would be heading to college right now, if he were still alive.  Everyone on that field, that morning, knew Clarence.  Some of the guys on that field were with him, at the waterfall where the accident happened.  They all tried to save him.  It was a tragic accident.  That is all that it was.  They happen all the time.  And when they do, everyone says what a wonderful person that person was.  That person who died much too young.  What else are they supposed to say, really?  Then again, maybe they are all right.  Maybe it is true, maybe “Only the good die young.”

     “One. On one,” Tommy said as we all broke the huddle together.  My very first play in my very first varsity game.  I played tackle.  Clarence played guard.  I was so charged up that I was ready to explode.  When the ball was snapped I did just that.  I exploded with such force that it seemed I had blocked straight through the defender in front of me. When I realized that I had missed my man entirely, I spun toward Clarence.  Clarence was blocking his man and my man.  On the way back to the huddle I helped Clarence up from the ground and told him I was sorry.  He smiled at me with the whitest teeth against the darkest skin, through his facemask, which was the same color as mine.  He said, “Don’t worry about it man!  That is what we got to do.  I got you, you got me, if we got each other, we got this.  If they aren’t wearing our color, knock’em down.  If they are wearing our color pick’em up.”  

     One play later, at the snap of the ball, Clarence pulled left.  He had beautiful technique when he pulled like that.  It was a damn shame that he was not supposed to pull on that play.  To make matters worse, he pulled left and the play was going right.  I would learn later that Clarence had a penchant for pulling the wrong way.  As I was blocking my man, I saw the man Clarence was supposed to block come crashing into the area that Clarence had left open.  I whipped my legs around in his direction.  My legs caught him in a place that was most uncomfortable for him, I am sure.  I landed on top of him along with the man I was blocking and a couple of other guys.  I saw Clarence as he reached a hand down to help me up.  He was smiling.  “Thanks,” he said. “We got this.” I laughed.  We were both laughing as we walked back to the huddle.  We won that game. 

     “One,” I screamed along with everyone else, as we started ten leg raises.  Leg raises were always after sit ups.  As I held my legs up from the ground that day and as my abs started burning, I wondered if anyone else on the team was thinking about Clarence.  Your mother can teach most of the things you need to know in life.  The rest of it you can learn by playing football.   Clarence taught me one of the most important lessons that I have learned in life.  What I look like makes no difference at all.  What I act like makes all of the difference in the world.  I got you, you got me.  Without you, all I got is me.  But if we got each other, we got this.  I still carry that lesson with me today.  Clarence taught me that.  And Jimmie, and Kevin, and Kirk, and Ricky, and Lamont, and Sam, and Brian, and Mo, and TJ. 

     “One more!” I heard the coach yell.  I was watching from the sideline with a smile.  One second before that I was out on the field, some thirty years ago.

     One thing about football, on the field, the only color that matters is the one you are wearing.  In life that is not always the case.  Realize that alone, we can only do what we can do.  Realize that together we can do what we cannot do alone.  When you realize that, you may not win every game, but you will never lose.  

     That is all.

One more thing…

     The names in this piece may be real and they may not be. I'll never tell.

     John Carroll is scheduled to play Boy’s Latin on October 25, 2013. Boy’s Latin head coach, Ritche Schell was a teammate of Clarence Braye.  John Carroll head coach, Rich Stichel and Ritche Schell are good friends.  My thanks to Coach Stichel for letting me work out with his team.

     Clarence died at Bloede Dam, in Ilchester, MD.  Someone else died there in August 2013.  Then another in 2014. At least six people have died there since the day that Clarence died.  Talks are underway to remove the dam.

     A scholarship was established after Clarence’s Death.  To Support the Clarence Braye Scholarship, go to https://loyolablakefield.org/SSLPage.aspx?pid=506 enter Clarence Braye Scholarship in the space marked other. That is all.