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.
