At 6 am tomorrow, approximately 80 young men will fill Buhler's morning air with yells of enthusiasm, encouragement, and excitement. Two hours later, these same young men will be drenched in sweat, their clothes will be filthy, and shouts will be replaced with the labored breathing that comes with youthful exertion. Some will complain and scowl, others will place ice bags on swollen joints, a few will race off the work for a few hours, and many will find their ways home for a much-needed breakfast and a nap. They will return to that patch of green a few hours later and do it all again. For many young men and not a few fully grown ones, tomorrow is one of the most anticipated days of the year: the first day of football practice.
Last week, I helped coach a full contact camp for kids in first grade through sixth grade. Over the last eight summers, I have had the pleasure of watching hundreds of little guys laugh, run into each other, watch the HS players who help coach them, and grow up during these camps. You learn a lot about kids during practice. This year was no different. One kid made three tackles in a drill, jumping up after each one, excited in what he probably envisioned as more Derrick Thomas than slow motion pillow fight. He then went back to the line, and a few minutes later was crying because his friend cut in line in front of him and would not move. He is not an NFL linebacker just yet; he is 9. Another little guy who has the making of being a very good athlete and a skilled football player made a textbook form tackle in one turn, and then ducked his head (big no-no) on the next try and missed the tackle. I watched him walk back to the huddle with his head hung low and his shoulders slumped forward under the plastic and fabric of his shiny new pads. He was not mad at the ball carrier for making him miss, and he was not upset with mom for not buy the right kind of Gatorade. He was angry at himself for not doing what he had been taught that week in linebacker drills, and now his friends, the HS players, and I had seen him make a mistake. Getting to go to the back of the line and talk to him, seeing his eyes clear and shoulders rise again before he reached the front of the line and once again put the runner to the ground in a nice form tackle is one of the most rewarding opportunities that these camps offer.
One other opportunity that I truly enjoy in these camps is watching the Buhler High football players who come out to the camp work with the younger boys who are just learning the game and who look up to these Friday night heroes. They do not know it, but the tones of their voices change as they speak to a little guy who just realized five minutes earlier that he had put his shoulder pads on backwards. They use their hands, not to give wet willies or push around someone weaker, but to guide them on proper rip technique or hand placement on a block. Sometimes, you see the nine year old that still lives inside the young men who have physically built their bodies up into thickly muscled forms Michelangelo would be pleased to use as a model. Sometimes you see the maturing hearts of those same men as they comfort a frustrated fourth grader who just wants to go home.
Tomorrow begins the most hectic, stressful, and rewarding time of the year for me. I am excited. Who knows, maybe you will hear my voice early tomorrow, mixed in with those of the charges we will push, nurture, teach, and drive. How could I not be excited? It's football season.
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