Thunderbolt Camp

When ever Labor Day rolls around my thoughts wander back to Camp Hollybrook and my days of sweat and toil in the waning summer summer - and then I am back at football camp.

In my day the team could "voluntarily" get together for conditioning - but not with the coaches until September 1.  This year it would have been a real horror as Labor Day was the latest it can be - which meant 7 full days at football camp, 7 days of heat, hurt and exhaustion - oh yeah, and fun I would trade a bunch or two to do all over again.

All summer the Coombs Dairy calendar in the kitchen clicked off the days until today.  We had been getting together at the high school field to run and then run again since right after the 4th.  The week before camp began a white car would cruise by near the field and our captain would jog by - and after that we would have a bunch of new plays on a legal pad to practice.  But I would never testify that it was our head coach bending the rules just a bit.

We ran the plays and ran them, until it got dark.

The day came and with my father's old army surplus duffle bag I waited for the yellow school bus.  We rode in silence like prisoners going to the prison farm south of Millville - we all knew that camp meant two a day hours of workouts on the steaming Hollybrook weed and rock laden field  = 7 days.

We arrived and the varsity stowed there socks and jocks at the "Lodge", a long building which doubled as classroom, dormitory and training table.  The scrubs marched out to the open air cabins in the woods.  We took our seats - lineman with lineman, backs with backs and the kickers trying to decide just where they should sit.

After a few minutes the coaches arrived for our first "chalk talk" - Riley made us laugh and talked about how we were going to beat Vineland this year. Zingler was a new teacher/coach and he talked about how he heard about Vineland all his life.  And then "Barb" (Barbose) the winning-est head coach in Millville's history stood and his cold stare bored into each of us - I immediately got goose bumps.  As a senior I had heard this speech 2 summers in a row and I knew what was coming and that it would still get to me..

He began after a long dramatic pause, "Gentleman we've got our work cut out for us...we got to work hard as there is little time to prepare for our first game...you should be proud and honored to be be a Thunderbolt...to be invited to football camp...nobody has made this team, every job is available...listen to your coaches...

The speech rang the open rafters of the lodge.  I wanted to run outside and hit a halfback.

Barb closed by saying how lucky we were to have this great place to practice and we should keep it spotless...clean...and leave it as we found it - Now get on your full gear -  we are going to see who is in shape AND HIT A BIT.

Our uniforms and pads were waiting, we dressed and filed out.  Barb led the way.  As he stepped through the screen door he squashed a jelly doughnut that sprayed its red sticky stuff all over his shoes and hit Riley in the back.  Yikes, this is not going to end well I immediately thought.

Coach erupted - (expletives omitted by editor) Hit the trees and start running until the (expletive) idiot who dropped this crap confesses to being the (expletive) slob - we are not slobs we are Thunderbolts. GET RUNNIN!"  We started laps around the perimeter among the cacti and sticker laiden field that was shimmered with heat waves.  It was about a quarter of mile for each lap.

One lap...two...ten...NO BODY FESSED UP...but Eddy, a senior halfback's face was grim... and white as a sheet.  20 laps...25 laps...still no confession was offered.  The class me  started to grumble.  "(Expletive, expletive) ...He'll make us run till we drop - somebody has got to take the the blame and punishment!

Now there was one giant freshman named John with us at camp.  A raw, but tall end cruit that Barb had invited - a rare invite for sure.  Our captain ran up along side of him as he lumbered around the sweltering field - "John, you tossed the bun, go tell him now!"  "BUT...but...ah", he whined.  "Do it or we will kill you," and there was a chorus of curses from the panting joggers all around him.

On the next lap he did it.  He did it.

Barb shout, "STOP RUNNING YOU BUMS! What do you think I'm stupid...I know you forced him to take the rap.  OK, I made my point about respecting this place and being sportsman, not slobs,,, gentlemen - let's get busy.  Backs with me.  Lineman over to the sled with Rile."

And so it was over and we went to work for two hour in the blaze.  The freshman made the team and immediately was accepted as one of our mates no matter that he was a frosh or how many catches he would make.  And as for Eddy, he didn't say much for two days.

Guilt is sometimes harder to bear than a hundred laps in the sun.