Here it is again......college football season, and along with it, all the things that turn normal people into raving lunatics. Coaches who go crazy on the sidelines, fans who go crazy in the stands, and players who are just trying to do the best they possibly can.
At one time or another I've been all of the above, but as I've "matured" it's become easier to put the games in proper perspective. I enjoy college football, I really do, but despite all of the pressures to win, it's still just a game.
"Who is that with the ball?" Whistles blew, and that booming voice of my college coach rang out across the practice field. It was about two weeks into pre-season workouts, we were installing the offense, and several running backs were fighting for starting positions. We had just ran a short sweep to the left, and I had broken into the clear after cutting back behind a great block by the pulling guard. As our coach ran over to me, slapped my helmet and yelled to everyone, "Now that's the way to run the ball!" my mind drifted back to another coach, another time, and a lesson learned.......
"Jackie, where are you going with the ball? How in the world do you ever expect to score when all you do is run to the sideline? The goal line is that-a-way, and that's where you need to go!"
These were the words that were circling through my head as my college coach continued to rant about cut-backs, key blocks, and running north and south. It was all stuff I'd learned from a mountain of a man when I was in the fifth grade.
I was always the fastest runner on the team. From about age eight I was able to outrun all the kids in school, and during the playground football games, I would just run around all of the kids who were trying to catch me.
"The next time I see you running toward the sidelines, I'm going to be there waiting for you!"
Dan Meyers lived across the street from our family, and he and my dad were the coaches of our fifth grade football team. He was a big man and had been quite a football player in his younger days. At about six-four and two-forty he still looked as though he could play the game, and to a ten-year old, he might as well have been seven feet tall, as he stood there in his cowboy boots, blue jeans, and western belt with a big gold buckle.
I still remember that practice. The one that broke me forever from those long sideline runs, and taught me the value of running north and south.
Our quarterback called a sweep to the left, turned and pitched me the ball, and I headed for the sideline. About the time I hit full stride, there he stood.....that mountain of a man was waiting for me. He had his legs spread wide, and in his hand was that big leather belt with the gold buckle. He raised his arm high in the air, belt hanging there for all to see, and with the other hand pointed toward the goal line.
He bellowed, "Git up the field!"
Message received! I cut up the field, and the rest is history. Never again did I even think of going to the sideline.
"Newcomb, who taught you to run like that? That's what we've been looking for with that play, and I think you just earned yourself some playing time."
The next day I was the lead name on the depth chart.....all of it that thanks to a big man named Dan Meyers....... Thanks Dan!
