I still recall the eerie silence as we rode in a mustard yellow colored school bus as it pushed it's way through the rain and wind towards our home football field at Madison Junior High School in Albuquerque, New Mexico.
My fellow ninth grade football players and I stared straight ahead in the tense and uncomfortable silence which seemed to hold us all captive within the metal shell of the bus. You could have heard a pin drop between the occasional grinding sound of metal when the bus driver shifted gears.
All of our uniforms were heavily soiled and a couple of my teammates uniforms had splatters of red blood which had faded to pink because of the rainy game conditions. The stench of adolescent sweat and grass filled the air and was just further testimony to our hard fought battle. If my mom had seen me I know what she would have said, "Raymond, your soaked to the bone." But today, it was much worse then that. We had just been defeated and embarrassed by a rival middle school.
Following our losing effort, our coach was his usual loud, clear and decisive self as he hollered extensively with his lips stretched thin on how each of us had let down both our fellow teammates and our school. As the sun moved closer to it's westerly destination, I could see it break through the clouds as it scattered broken light across our high desert mesa town which is located at base of the Rocky Mountains.
Our coached made it crystal clear we would be not be going to the hot showers in our locker room or the school parking lot to meet our parents. Instead, we were returning to our patched grass and dirt gridiron, we called home. It was time to practice what he had failed to do in the game. When the bus lurched to a stop he ordered all of us off as he yelled, "helmets on, mouthpieces in."
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| 9th Grade - Madison Mohawks Photo Day at the base of the Sandia Mountains. |
At almost a mile high above sea level, we began running wind sprints in waves until our lungs burned before switching to "monkey rolls" in the muddiest portion of our field, (which if you did not know is a grueling drill where three players repeatedly tumble over each other). The drill is both exhausting and makes it blatantly obvious if a player is slacking.
As darkness began to creep across the field, I recall having to close my eyes and mouth while doing the monkey rolls when I struck the dirty water. I could taste the mud as our couch was screaming something about never quitting, never giving up, and never letting your teammates down.
| Rutgers Basketball Coach Mike Rice Abusing His Players 2013 |
Which brings me to Rutgers University Basketball coach Mike Rice and his idiotic behavior which was televised last week. Our three boys were talking about it, so I took a look, but I could only watch a few minutes before I turned it off. It was just so wrong.
I am sure there are other professions with no tolerance for character flaws, but I really think coaches, teachers and of course cops are in such a sacred position of trust that they should only hear two words when they betray the trust of the community, "You're fired."
I just don't get trying to rehabilitate someone after such egregious conduct. He should have been shown the door, regardless of how many numbers he has in the win column on some meaningless piece of paper or awards in a trophy case. It is and always should be about the student or the player. Which brings me to Del Norte High School.
As both of our sons ran ahead to get to practice, I saw members of the track team sitting in the stands of Nighthawk Stadium. The first thing I noticed was the broad smiles of not one but almost all the athletes and frequent laughter as a coach I have never met, stood at the base of the stadium seating. He was speaking about how proud he was of the athletes and what they had accomplished. He mentioning several specific events over the season that resulted in the athletes laughing and cheering.
Over about the next two hours I just wandered around. Of course Troy my fourteen year old thought I was standing too close to his lacrosse practice and whispered to me, "OK Dad, why don't you go watch Raymond's practice." That kid cracks me up.
It seemed every field and facility at the school was in use including track, cross
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| One of the many coaches providing guidance to athletes at DNHS |
country, swimming, tennis, lacrosse, field hockey, and possibly more. I must have seen eight coaches interacting with many of our children, our future. I saw patience and I even heard a "please" thrown in when one coach asked the athletes to do something. I had to smile.
Some people have said our kids attend the "Crown Jewell" of Poway Unified School District because of the amazing facility that cost in excess of 150 million dollars to construct. The most expensive public high school built in San Diego County. I say they are wrong. I say we have pretty awesome schools in the area because we have great principles, teachers and coaches at all levels and for the way they treat and develop our kids.
I would like to believe if any principal who had evidence of poor character by a member of their staff would quickly say those two words and move on. There are too many great coaches or teachers waiting to take their place.
I don't really know for sure if that post game practice in the cold rain growing up really changed me or not. During the entire season
our coach pushed us to play harder but he never abused us. He also never touched us other then sometimes putting a hand on our shoulder pads or holding our face mask to look us directly in our eyes.
our coach pushed us to play harder but he never abused us. He also never touched us other then sometimes putting a hand on our shoulder pads or holding our face mask to look us directly in our eyes.
I still recall his booming voice echoing across that football field so many years ago. And though he was tough and demanding, we each knew he cared about each of us. Coach, I don't know if your still with us but wherever you are, "thank you." I have never forgotten the lessons you taught us.
Enjoy your week,
Ray & Theresa Shay
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