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Pat Dye Field => War Damn Eagle => Topic started by: WiregrassTiger on October 07, 2014, 05:30:59 PM
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I don't normally like to talk a lot about my playing days, being a multi-sport athlete and whatnot. But, sometimes people ask me about it and want me to tell a story or two. So, I'm sure some of you would love to hear this. I'm in a sharing mood.
WT was a sophomore and vying for playing time if I could make it up from the fourth string defensive end spot on the scout team. This was well before the coaches had been able to fully asses my capabilities.
I went hard, like on every play. I knew that if I was going to have to really impress the coaches in order to crack the rotation. There were no other 6'0 147 lb. DE's getting any playing time.
When I say I went hard, just picture Rudy, except much more athletic. I could side step a charging SR and grab a hold of leg and hold on until help arrived with the best of them.
Some of the bros that were upperclassmen talked to me about taking it down a notch or two. I was actually making a few plays and pissing them off because of my unconventional methods of shedding blocks--like head fakes, a little spin move that I developed and falling down right in front of them to trip them up.
I was a little mouthy back then and told them that WT don't play scared. And I didn't. Then, the next day, it came time for the cones drill. If you're not familiar with the cones drill, there are three cones on the ground--signifying 3 gaps in which a fresh meat ball carrier has to run in order for the LB's and D line to square up and tackle your ass as if you had said something about their momma. In addition to my duty as a scout team DE, WT also served as one of the ball carriers.
Bull had warned me that Dwayne was wanting me in the cones. You didn't want to face Dwayne in the cones. Let me just say, the closest to Bo Jackson that I played with, except Dwayne was in the special class--prob misdiagnosed or something back then. Just quiet but he could drive and everything. About 5'11 225 lbs of muscle. Fast twitch fiber and break your fucking collarbone muscle. He hit like he lived.
I saw Dwayne send a kick off through the uprights one night. I don't remember the particulars of it, but I saw it. It wasn't like he had any kind of kicking form or training. He just got a running start and kicked the shit out of it. And back then, you didn't see as many kick offs going into the end zone in high school.
You have to remember, this was before I was as fully developed muscularly as now. So, it would take two of my legs to make one of Dwayne's.
As fate would have it, it looked as if, based on the line formation, that I would miss Dwayne. You didn't really want any of the guys but especially Dwayne. Then, it was my turn. And, Dwayne jumped in front of the next guy.
I learned a very valuable lesson that day that I'm about to share. First, here is what happened. My mind was racing, "Do I choose A gap and go ahead and get the hurt over with or choose C and hope that it's a glancing blow."
There was no psyching myself up, trying to muster up will and energy to really try and knock the shit out of Dwayne. It was more of a survival thought process. What can I do to live, now?
I chose C, hoping for the glancing blow. It didn't happen. My buddies on the scout team said they heard it from behind the bleachers on another field.
I did the typical upright 2 step shuffle, like a deer in the headlights and I promise that my buddies said the first part of me to hit the ground was the back of my helmet. Dwayne had fucked me up.
o.k., so it's 100 degrees in south Alabama, (because you could see the bank clock from the practice field, which was sadistic in itself seeing that every freaking day) and I'm laying motionless on my back as Dwayne gets up and is given high fives all around. But WT isn't moving. Excuse me, WT can't move.
It's the truth if I've every told it. I could not move. I remember looking up into the sun and the sweat in my eyes kind of made it look like a clear kaleidoscope. It was surreal to say the least and extremely scary.
The best I can remember, my arms and legs were tingling but I couldn't move or breath.
Back then, the medical association had apparently trained coaches that in the event of a probable severed spine, you should grab the player that is on his back underneath his belt buckle and lift up as high as you can like your picking up a bucket by the handle and holler, "Breathe!". I saw this several times and that's what the coach did to me.
I remember thanking God for allowing me to breathe. I think that was as bad as not being able to move. Then the feeling started coming back into my extremities. For most of the rest of practice, I was jerking as if I was freezing, some kind of nerve deal I guess.
Anyway, Dwayne made his point but in a different kind of way. From that day on, WT learned that if you go, go full ass speed. For whatever reason, that doesn't make sense, but it hurts less than to tippy toe to the line.
From then on, in football as in life, I hit mofo's like I live.
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Son, I'm only going to tell you this one time.
If you want to keep working here, stay off the drugs
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All you had to do was rub some dirt on you. Get back up.(it's magic dirt) Pick up the ball and tell Duh-wayne what gap you were running through next. Would have scared the shit out of him because then he would be facing man slaughter charges. Pussy!
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tl;dr
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I stopped reading at "I", then I scrolled down and decided not to read the rest.
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(http://31.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_m3yvstPTXq1rskrjjo3_250.gif)
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(http://data3.whicdn.com/images/34253841/large.gif)
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Some folks just don't appreciate talent.
Others humility.
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If you have ever played the game foe any length of time, there is always that one play where you figure out if you are going to make it or not.
In reading WT's story, I got the sense of NOT!
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If you have ever played the game foe any length of time, there is always that one play where you figure out if you are going to make it or not.
In reading WT's story, I got the sense of NOT!
Mine was against Hoover my freshman year of high school. I darted through the line unblocked with a head full of steam. I watched Chad Jackson secure the ball in his hands before he took his first step. I launched my body as hard as I could expecting to send his helmet flying into the stands. He did a quick juke to the left. I whiffed completely. Face first in the dirt. He ran 70 yards for a touchdown. We watched the play 15 times during film room.
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Mine was against Hoover my freshman year of high school. I darted through the line unblocked with a head full of steam. I watched Chad Jackson secure the ball in his hands before he took his first step. I launched my body as hard as I could expecting to send his helmet flying into the stands. He did a quick juke to the left. I whiffed completely. Face first in the dirt. He ran 70 yards for a touchdown. We watched the play 15 times during film room.
Cool dream bro
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Cool dream bro
It was ok, he played guitar to the cheerleaders after.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8V_hCqO6UQs#ws (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8V_hCqO6UQs#ws)
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If you have ever played the game foe any length of time, there is always that one play where you figure out if you are going to make it or not.
In reading WT's story, I got the sense of NOT!
I get the sense that Dwayne would fuck you up much worse than he did me.
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It was ok, he played guitar to the cheerleaders after.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8V_hCqO6UQs#ws (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8V_hCqO6UQs#ws)
Ah the ole Stephen Bishop reference.
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I get the sense that Dwayne would fuck you up much worse than he did me.
I doubt that. I would put my money on Malcom Cain being a harder hitter. And I survived him. After that, nobody scared me.