Being a Thunderbolt

An autumn reverie…thinking of my football days long ago...I replay those days again when the leaves start to fall.  And I think how few who haven’t played the game won’t really understand why I still yearn for those days so long ago. For one thing that many who have not played an organized sports don't realize - the easy part is the game, being “in training” is much harder...and then I back in a basement pumping iron…

The last game ended the next week our new season begun for me and my fellow lineman.  We met three times a week to lift weights with our line coach who we Mr. Riley who everyone called Ole Rile even though he wasn’t old.  Matter of fact he was in better shape than all of us because he was a lifelong bodybuilder who had his physic memorialized by several massive trophies.  He was tough and was the only one in gym shorts at practice on frigid days during the end of each season.  He worked us hard all winte in his home “gym” which had literally a thousand pounds of weights and bars and benches.  So for me the football didn’t end just the games were over until the next year.  This conditioning wasn’t required to be on the Thunderbolts - but six of “starters” did it religiously three times a week until late summer when the team started to meet for workouts.

I can still feel the heat when we returned to classes and started our daily practices for 3 and half hours the first afternoon back to school.  I was in the best shape I would be in my life.  I was soaked and exhausted after every session on our grassless field near the old stadium.  On Saturdays we had full contact  scrimmages that were torturous in the heat of “Indian Summer” as my grandmother called every warm day after Labor Day.    The long practices continued for three weeks every day but Sundays until our first game.  Coach was very strict about us going to church.  Many times during the season he would remind us - “We need all the help we can get so go to church!”  The Saturday before our opener we battled for hours while he had an assistant coach keep an eye out for the press so they would not see our newest plays.  Football was a big deal in our little town.  

Each morning on  tired legs I would drag myself to the bus stop and limp from class to class and ask myself, “Is this worth it?”  After the last bell rang and school was done I got angry seeing most of the guys at Millville High could go drink Cherry Cokes at the Hub Lunchette across from the school or go home and watch Bandstand as I trudged to the locker room.  However, our locker room was the most fun of our day joking and pranking - this was the home of the camaraderie of being a member of a team.  The aches, pains and bruises that were added to each day were forgotten for a few moments until one of the coaches would yell, “Come on ladies get your butts out on the field...we haven’t got all day but we’ve got a lot of night left”   The blessed Friday before our first game finally came and that meant a light practice with new pads.  The opponent is long gone from  my memory but wearing my brand new # 52 gameshirt in the halls to class are well remembered. It was a proud moment as many wished us - Go Bolts.  Class ended a period early on those Fridays and everyone, teacher and students, cheered with our cheerleaders in our big auditorium.  The place rocked as our small but mighty (loud) marching band played us onto the stage.  Coach introduced each varsity player which was akin to getting an academy award and a feeling I would rarely repeat for years to come.  

That night Bub, our quarterback, Rob, our best receiver and I, a lowly lineman went to the movies.  We were all nervous and thought that Jerry Lewis antics would calm the butterflies raging in our stomachs – it didn’t.  We had missed the beginning of the movie because of practice, ate popcorn and candy as our dinner and then mutually decided to stay to see the beginning of the film - and that became a big mistake.  Our curfew was 9:30 and we were  “ in training” and had pledged to abide by the rules.  We had to be home and in bed early on the night before a game.  The clock ticked closer to our deadline and I started to sweat.  The questions we all were thinking, could we stay a few more minutes before getting into trouble or even benched the next day?   We all knew we were taking a chance as the coaches would phone our homes to check if we were in bed.  At 9:28 I nervously looked around and Yikes, our head coach was sitting right behind us.  I whispered the pending doom to Bub and he to Rob - Rob started to cry.  We “slunk” down in the seats and didn’t know what else to do…and then Coach got up and walked to the refreshment stand.   We were up and out a side exit in less than two seconds to Bub’s car (he was the only one old enough to get a license the month before this escape).  I just made it in the door when linemen coach Riley called to verify I was keeping the training rules and with a wink my mom said I was in bed asleep already.  She saved me again.  Without a word I crept to bed.  I didn’t sleep a wink that night or any night before a game - but it was the attempt at resting that counted.

We won the next day and I never went to a Friday movie for the rest of the season.  Years later coach Barbose informed me at a class reunion that he knew it was us three stooges sitting in front of him. “I let you sweat for a few minutes then left so you could escape -  it was more important for the team that you did not get benched for missing curfew for a few minutes...and I knew that you would never do it again."  

Playing football was full of lessons that we would not appreciate until later. Lessons that went far beyond playing a game. We were kids learning that rules, hard work, sacrifice (and being on time) would be important to practice throughout our lives – that’s what being a Thunderbolt was all about and for everyone who has ever played the game.