Jeff Jennings is a Long Term sub in our building for a gal that's out on maternity leave. While teaching 5th grade Literacy, Mr. Jennings is also working on his Masters Degree and hoping for a permanent job teaching in the district he grew up in. Every once in a while I get to have lunch and visit with him.
It's good having Jeff around. He's a funny guy and a good story teller. A couple of weeks ago he asked me about 7th grade football. I told him that things were going well and that I'd settled in to a new, kinder and gentler coaching mentality. It's easier on my blood pressure coaching towards fun in pursuit of winning. But I confessed that I may have had a relapse during a timeout a week before.
Jeff listened while I admitted to raising my voice and getting after the whole squad. Parents in the stands thought that I was trying to "fire up the troops". My wife knew that the message was more about missed assignments, lowered expectations and general undisciplined mistakes.
That's when Jeff interrupted with a story of his own.
See, back in the day, Jennings was a 3 sport stud at Rush City. Football, Basketball and Track - he had it all and made things look effortless. I'm proud that he still calls me Coach. With a huge smile on his face, Jeff retold the story of his first varsity touchdown. He was a freshman and admittedly, big for his britches. Late in a game of little consequence, he caught a pass from Jake Bosman, made a couple of defenders miss and pranced in to the endzone. Jeff says he spun the football to the ground and raised his hands in the Titanic Pose as if to say, "Look at me, World."
With a chuckle, 30 year old Jennings said that 15 year old Jeff was snatched up directly in the facemask and pulled in close to Coach Kirby while the young coach hollerd, "ACT LIKE YOU'VE BEEN THERE! Act like you've been there! Don't you ever toss a football like that again. You hustle it over to the referee and hand it directly too him. YOU HAND IT TO THE REF and then go celebrate with the linemen that got you in the endzone!"
Apparently our Teachable Moment went a little long because Jeff said we played the extra point with only 10 players on the field. Jeff missed an assignment but was learning a valuable life lesson. In the teacher's lounge, 16 years later, I was beaming with pride as our player/coach relationship had now grown in to becoming lunch buddies. Jeff said he vividly remembers that evening under the Friday Night Lights. He also shared a memory of a touchdown he scored later that season to secure a big win for us in the closing moments of a game at East Central. He recalled looking to the sidelines and seeing me jumping for joy; happy for him and being his biggest supporter. At the sideline, I assured the young wideout that he was going to be in the endzone often.
In my infinite wisdom, I asked Jeff what the real life take away from that moment was. Jeff knew the answer I was looking for. Jeff said touchdowns are less about the individual and more about the team. Jeff said that handing the ball to an official is an ultimate sign of respect and a direct way to act like you've been there before. (Sidenote - he did score often. Jennings went on to play college football and run college track)
As he pushed in his chair and was ready to leave our conversation, Jeff said that after every touchdown he scored from that day forward, he handed the football to an official. Once in college, the ref asked him to toss him the ball. Jeff refused and looked over his shoulder fearful that Coach Kirby might be watching somewhere.
I wasn't.
But I wished that I had been there to watch him play that day.
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Tuesday the 7th grade Tigers lost a 6-0 battle in the trenches at Pine City. On a muddied field, the players poured their guts out, fighting for every inch on offense and defending every inch with grit and determination on defense.
The fullback/middle linebacker on that team lives under the same roof as me. He fought hard with everything he had. He shouldered the load of an undefeated season and tried so hard with every snap of the ball. In the endzone, our tying score went in and out of the hands of a wide open receiver. We gave ourselves one last chance with the effective use of our remaining timeouts but it wasn't meant to be. We held our heads high in defeat becasue we had played with pride.
Then the 8th grade game began. An already depleated roster was thinned out even more as Coach Morgan dealt with discipline issues and nagging injuries. One by one, 8th graders were falling by the wayside. He begged for reinforcements and the 7th graders came calling.
After already playing four challenging quarters of football, a few kids stepped up and gave their best effort against an opponent with higher participation numbers and a year of experience on them. But there was no quit in the 7th graders that fought hard for the yellow and blue. The right side of the offenseive line was made up of underclassmen. The backfield had a 7th grader in support of an 8th grader. On the outside, little wideouts threw blocks as best as they could. As a matter of fact, the two touchdowns that Rush City was able to put on the board were a direct result of excellent support play by the 7th graders on the field.
But after another 4 quarters, the Tigers once again fell short. This time 16-12. We met the Dragons at midfield for the requisite handshake and awkward pleasantries. Having done this a thousand times in my career, I know that it's usually followed by a team huddle. So as I gathered the troops, I searched the dispersing crowd for my own son. I couldn't see him amongst the players that knelt before me.
That is because he wasn't there.
Along the far sideline, a torn and batterered player was chasing down the referees. The striped men had a good headstart and the worn out player was straining to catch up with them . From afar I recognized the hobbled gait of my boy. #32 was insistent on making contact and thanking each official personally with a handshake. Beat down from 8 quarters of legal warfare, Logan pushed through the agony of defeat to do what he knows is right.
Even when no one is watching....
Except, sometimes they are.
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