I Am a Nerd

Hello, my name is Jason, and I (deep breath, collect myself, find my center, my safe place, and push on) am a nerd. There, I said it. Well, I typed it. Now, I do understand that for those who know me, this is not news. However, this about me, not you, so shut up. I am trying to make a breakthrough here. 

All right, that was a little out of line, a little extreme. Sorry. 

I am nerd though. I had this discussion with my dear wife this evening. She argued that I am not a nerd, but I think she just does not want to admit that she married a huge, helplessly nerdy nerd. But she did, and there is nothing she can do about it now. I fooled her long enough to pull her in, and now, she will just have to live with it. Wife of a nerd. It seems like a cruel thing to do to someone you love, but when a nerd manages to marry a pretty lady, he is not going to let it go. 

The evidence is overwhelming. 

Exhibit 1: I am writing a blog. For free. Just for fun.

Exhibit 2: I spent my lunch time today discussing wha we should put on our ELA Team Grammar T-shirts. I have no idea if anyone outside of that room would grasp why any of the numerous suggestions were funny, but we were laughing.

Exhibit 2A: I seek out these people to discuss puns, satire, irony, and archetypes. Sorry folks, but you are nerds too. Check the bulletin board for the next meeting. 

Exhibit 3: I had to hurry to make it to my 5th hour class because I was staring at a projecotr screen, counting out iambic pentameter in lines that appeared on the screen. The rhythm was fairly inconsistent, but with some simple inversion of word order, it could be close.

Exhibit 4: When Ms. Porter quotes a Facebook post, saying "I stopped reading your status update after the third grammatical error", I will admit that I shared that post on my timeline.

Exhibit 5: When I overhear Mrs. Williams next door talking to her AP class about George Bernard Shaw, I think fondly back to one of my favorite college classes The Plays of G.B. Shaw.

Exhibit 6: In Beetlejuice, when the ghosts go to the afterlife and there is a NO EXIT sgin above the door behind them, I actually understand the allusion, and I really like the play.

Exhibit 7: I know what an allusion is.

Exhibit 8: I lost my seniors about two minutes into an analysis of Jay-Z's verse in "No Church in the Wild", but I think I pulled a few of them back when we pulled Socrates and Jesus into the discussion. 

Exhibit 9: I took part in a discussion of preferences regarding use of computer or paper and pencil for writing poetry versus expository pieces. 

Exhibit 10: I know what a gerund is.

Exhibit 11: I can rattle off the Personal Pronoun Case charts. Don't hate.

Exhibit 12: When I watch a film such as The Departed, I cannot help but examine if Billy or Colin should be considered tragic heroes, in a classic sense.

Do I have to go further? 

However, I am not ashamed. I am willing to embrace my status as a nerd. I have been one all of my life, after all.  And we are many. I was driving home yesterday, and CBS Sports Radio had an interview with Eddie George, the former NFL running back. He was a six time All-Pro and won the Heisman Trophy at Ohio State. Stud. After retiring from the NFL, George struggled to adjust to his new lifestyle. He battled through and found a new outlet. What is he doing now? He is performing Shakespeare, filling the roles of Julius Caesar and Othello. NFL Superstar. College Football Legend. Nerd. 

So embrace your true selves, all you nerds out there. You should be proud. I know I am.

Jury Duty

I had a new experience this week, and I believe it worth sharing. A few months back, I received an envelope form the Federal District Court of Kansas in Wichita, Kansas. For some reason, I never am excited about opening envelopes like that one. It contained notification that I was in the pool as a potential juror for the Federal District Court. Yippee. No biggy though, right? What are the odds I would come up? Well, a while later I received a letter stating that I was now on call for the month of January 2014 and was to call every Monday evening to get instructions. January is a good month to be on call though, right? It is not football season. It comes right after the holidays, so the lawyers will not be pushing to try cases, right? I don't know why I thought that, but it made me feel better.

So, I called each Monday, releasing a sigh of relief each time the recording said I did not have to report. Then, for whatever reason, I forgot to call. Luckily, Heidi realized it around 4:30 on Tuesday morning, and she called in for me. I was to report the next Tuesday morning at 8:00 am. At least I had that news to wake up to.  I had the common reaction I have heard most people express when they find out they have the pleasure of reporting for jury duty: "Well, crap."

I won't bore you further with the details of my selection to actively serve on the jury. However, I will tell you that this became one of those experiences that starts out in a completely negative light, but actually develops into something worthwhile. Notice that I did not say "enjoyable" or "satisfying". It was neither. What it was was worthwhile. I performed a duty, one which each of us as citizens of the USA are expected to fulfill to best of our abilities. I was not part of a group too stupid to get out of jury duty. An engineer, a zookeeper, a business owner, a retired insurance adjuster, and many other professionals and otherwise intelligent people occupied the chairs in that box. People try to get out of jury duty every day, and I do not fault them, not the slightest bit. We all lead busy lives, and the disruption of those lives is a significant reason to ask to be excused. I know teachers and other educators who have asked to have their service deferred until summer, when they can perform their duties without having to miss school. There are few professionals who would do that. "Judge, I would like to have you recall me in a month or two so I can schedule my vacation and spend it in jury duty." I probably should have asked for that consideration, but for some reason I didn't. When the prosecutor asked me if missing school was going to be a severe hardship that should not be inflicted on me or others, I answered as honestly as I could: "We have substitutes, and I have written lessons plans. I would rather be there, in the classroom, than here, but I understand my duty to serve if selected." Asking to be excused is fine. Lying to do so is another. That is a rant I won't go into right now. Maybe later.

As I was saying, it was worthwhile. I will be trying to catch up for the time I missed for about 3 weeks, if I am lucky. However, it was worthwhile. As part of the selection process, this thought was presented: If you (a doctor, a teacher, an engineer, a mother, etc.) were sitting accused, would you not want someone like you, someone with your busy life full of important responsibilities and significant actions on a daily basis, sitting in that box, considering if the evidence presented by the United States government was sufficient enough to determine if you should be punished for a crime? I had not considered it from that point of view.

It was worthwhile. Was I bored from time to time as lawyers sometimes, in words actually used in the courtroom, "beat the dead horse"? Yes, I was. Did I get frustrated when a witness continually tried to frame her answers so as to make her actions appear justified or righteous? Definitely. Did I sometimes marvel at how the tall, lanky defense attorney with glasses and low, deliberate voice had an odd resemblance to Gregory Peck, but failed to live up to that Atticus Finch image, mainly because the client was not as worthy as Tom Robinson? Um, yes. Was my mind screaming at times when the lawyer would not ask the question I wanted him to ask? Oh yeah, more than once. But those instances were all part of the process. I found myself thanking Mr. Marsh in my mind for the job he did in government class my senior year. His lessons gave me the basis for an understanding of what was going on, and why.  I learned very quickly from the judge that if I even entertained the thought of following in Henry Fonda's footsteps, footsteps that led him to purchase a switchblade from a little junkshop, I would not become the hero of a classic screenplay, but instead would have committed juror misconduct and face the wrath of a longtime federal justice. I learned that individuals in their 50s sometimes act like high school sophomores, and that is frustrating. Sophomores do not usually know better, or sometimes even know what they are doing. These adults should have known better.

Most importantly, I learned that jury duty is worthwhile. Not enjoyable, although I did meet some very interesting people and shared some very enjoyable lunch conversation. Worthwhile. Our system relies on us, as citizens, to perform this duty to the best of our abilities. We are nation of laws; as John Goodman's character in The Big Lebowski screamed, "We have rules here! It's not Nam!" And wouldn't you want you sitting in that box if you were accused of violating one of those (or seven of them), and you were not guilty?

I will admit, however, I will probably still groan sigh, "Oh crap" if that envelope comes in my mail again. That is human nature, and of being human, I am guilty as charged.

The Boast of King Kohls

Last week, I assigned to my senior English students what is apparently the most difficult piece of writing ever hatched in the mind of a teacher. It was, gasp, the Eipc Boast. All right, perhaps that is a bit of hyperbole. However my kids did stress out about this simple 15 line piece of writing. It struck me that despite all of the criticism that seems to be piled on this generation of kids, the accusations that young people today are arrogant and self-center, this group of kids struggles when they are actually given permission to brag on themselves. In a world of Richard Sherman (I am the greatest! Don't talk about me!"), the regular high school student, at least most of those whom I work with each day, truly are modest, and they do not really want to pound their chest and say, "This is how great I am!"

That being said, these seniors responded, and they produced some interesting pieces of writing. They were asked to boast as Beowulf did. They were to boast on their origins, brag on their abilities, and accentuate their accomplishments. Exaggeration was encouraged. That's hyperbole ya'll. And kennings were a must. It is intriguing to see what these young people choose to boast about. Physical looks, athletic ability, the ability to shoot, skill in driving, intellect, and speaking ability all made the cut. Sense of humor, being a good friend, honesty, culinary skill, and persistence did too. One student boasted that he was the most humble, and he proceeded to expound on that belief. The boasts were telling, they were surprising, and they were funny. One included a few more references to bodily functions than I would have predicted, but I did laugh. Two students mocked the rap tradition of the boast and battled. I loved what these seniors produced.

One thing I try to do when I give writing assignments is model what I expect. I am making them write, something many of them are not too keen on, so it only seems fair that I do the same. I usually enjoy the writing, so it is good for me. This year, I told the kids i would write my boast since some of them were struggling as they put pen to paper. I did it, and while a couple of classes did not ask to hear it and let me off the hook, the last two classes of the day called me to the podium. I still get nervous when I read my own words in front of a class. Some of these young people are harsh critics. Then I thought I would share it here. Why? In the words of Mr. Blutarsky, "Why not?" So, here you go.

"The Boast Of King Kohls"

Hail all around me; and lend me your ear

The tale of Jane and Delmar’s son now hear,

From the 785, Ellsworth was my home,

Before my journey began and I had to roam,

From scholars of Baker where I read and grew

To land of Redskins and finally Buh-

ler, my home, my place of celebration

Where I teach now and coach in Crusader nation.

Hundreds of youths have passed through my doors

Great men and ladies who have paced these floors

Among them the brightest of this father’s jewels,

A daughter strong and artistic, living by her own rule.

Soon to be followed by a young man of mind

Who questions all things and fame he will find.

I have coached warriors here, great and strong

Who have reached the summit, where they belong,

With championship in hand, earned by effort and sweat,

But I do not want to stop with my appetite wet.

Add to father, coach, and teacher on my list of success

Twenty years with my bride, since the day she said yes,

And the pen’s blood that runs onto many a page

As I weave tales of passion, love, or rage.

Now I look ahead, as any boast should

To what lies before me; I look toward the good.

In my life as a teacher, I see many young minds,

As a coach on the field, more trophies I’ll find.

One day my novel or volume of rhyme

Will be bound and found on shelves for all time.

As a father, striving, doing my best,

I must help them succeed, to be happy and blessed.

"Some Things"

Well, it has been a while. I a having trouble keeping my promise to write at least once a week. No excuses, just have not made time for, which is even worse because one of the reasons for this blog's very existence is so I will write regularly. In actuality, I have written a couple of different posts, or at least started to write them, but I just did not feel they were ready for primetime (hopefully at least one of you understands that reference. So, that being said, here I go.

What to write what to write. Every blogger seems to have a "stuff I love and stuff I hate" post every now and then, probably when they do know what to write about, so I will go with that. If you are bored or feel I am wasting your time, you can definitely move on to something else, and I will be fine with that.

Hey, I will start with that. One thing that annoys me is the loud and belligerent response many people have to TV shows, music, movies, and the like that they do not like, and the demand that everything be changed to match what they want. Usually, regardless of the issue or where the respective sides sit politically, the "other side" will then come back with just as much volume and fervor, with one side screaming "free speech", oftentimes when such an application of the Bill of Rights is not appropriate. Unless the speaker is being muzzled, directly or indirectly, by some level or branch of the government, keep that objection in the holster.  If you do not like what is said, turn the channel, do not buy the album or products advertised on the program, or do not attend the screening. Start a movement for others who agree with you to do the same. People have a right to express themselves, even if I disagree with them or if what is said proves to be offensive. I respect that. People who disagree have a right to express themselves too. We all also have the right to turn the channel. And when it is tied to business, especially selling advertising, turning the channel might be the best way to express your dissent. Money talks, and most businesses will only take a moral stance so far when the register stops ringing. If you turn the channel, at the least, you will not have to listen to and you will not be supporting someone whose views run counter to yours.

Ok, that was something that annoys me, so here is one thing that I love. I am thrilled when my students take something I say or present them in class and turn it over in their minds, then throw it back at me in a question. The other day, a freshman (we will call him Dawson) took my notes on tragic heroes and asked me a question about the TV series Breaking Bad. It took what we were examining, and it clarified the view for many of the kids sitting in that classroom. "Oh yeah. That makes sense" is a line that warms the heart of any teacher, regardless of how we get to that point.

You know what else I love? Twitter mentions. I know that some of you just groaned and rolled your eyes. Not just Twitter applies here, I guess. Facebook mentions are neat (I think I want to start a movement to bring back the use of the word neat, but that is a totally different dicsussion). I really do love when a student or former student mentions me in a tweet about what his college professor said or something that we had done in class that is now paying off. Or maybe it is about something in a movie he saw that harkened back to a discussion in class. Perhaps a football player, or his mom, liked the highlight video I posted. Whatever it is, tt is just plain cool. Call it being egotistical, insecure, or needy; I do not care. It brightens my day. #thankyou

Those mentions are one of those little things that I appreciate. I guess I am trying to say that I try to love, and appreciate the little things. That is one of the main rules of Zombieland, afterall, so it must be important. I love when students say, "Good morning Mr. Kohls" when they come by my room and drop of their books and bags early in the morning. I try to return that favor. I love when a fellow teacher asks me what I am doing in class, or send me a link or activity that he or she is using in class and has been useful. I love when my daughter comes in between classes and gives me a hug or asks if I want to see what she has drawn or painted. I love when my son decides to empty the dishwasher or make cookies. I love when former students stop by or catch me at a game or in the grocery store just to say "Hello." I love when kids surprise me with what they have written or ask questions for the first time in class. I love when a fellow coach or a player says, "Thank you" for something that I enjoyed doing in the first place. I need to do a better job of that. I don't say, "Thank You" enough. I love when my wife kisses me goodbye in the morning just before I walk out the door. Little things that are not so little. They are neat.

I am done for the day. I could complain much more, and the list of things I love is definitely incomplete here. However, you are probably becoming bored, or annoyed, and are welcoming a conclusion. So this is the end, my friend.

Oh, and if you feel like it, give me mention, or a retweet, if you want. That would be #neat.

"Last Night, I Fell into a Book"

Last night, I fell into a book. If you have no idea what that means, then I honestly feel sorry for you. Falling into a book is an amazing experience, and one that I wish every person could experience. I had not fallen into a book for some time, and, let me tell you this: I missed it.
For those of you who are rading this and wondering what in the world I am talking about , what this weird "falling into a book" business is, let me explain as best I can. When you fall into a book, you lose yourself in whatever piece of writing you have been lucky enough to pick up and dive into. It might sound a little Alice in Wonderland, down the rabbit hole, and that is not inaccurate. When you fall into a book, you get lost in the world that writer has created. Time becomes something that the rest of the world might notice, but for you, the ticking of the clock has been lost in sounds and speech of some alternate reality that wells up from the pages before you and pulls you in, sometimes like the razored hand of Freddy Kruger, snatching you into a dark world of screams and dreams, mightmares, at other times like the silken gloved hand of a porcelain-skinned angel who leads you through starlit nights, and at still others like the gnarled hand of an other teacher, guiding you through trails toward knowledge you never even knew you craved. Yeah, it's pretty cool.
Last night, I lost three or so hous in this mundane existance, but experienced weeks and months in a world I found shocking, intriguing, enlightening, and troubling, all at the same time. I won't argue that the book was all that good, but it snagged me and I fell. The book? A little piec eof light reaiding titled Fight Club. It is the novella that spawned the movie 15 or so years a go. The film starred Edward Norton and Brad Pitt. It fascinated me, partly because it is a perverted, dark "Walter Mitty"-type tale, partly because I watched it backwards. That is a whle diffeent story that I can tell later. For now, let's just say that the film intrigued me, and I have wanted to read the original ever since seeing it. Yesterday, Heidi and I were in Hastings and I saw a copy of the novella. I started reading it reading shortly after 8 pm. Suddenly, I glanced at the clock, and it was just after midnight. I had fallen intot he book. I had not planned it, and I was not diving in because my life required me to. I was just reading because I wanted to, and I fell in.  It was something I had not done for quite a while, and I loved it.
I once heard a bit of inspired truth: "If you say you hate reading, you just have not yet found what you love to read." I agree with this wholeheartedly. So, since this is New Year's Eve, and every channel will have a 'list' of some sort going tonight, I have decided I will throw together a list of my own. A list of books I have fallen into. I know I have had lists of books and movies and the like before, but this may be just alittle different. These are not the most inspirational novels or classics that every person must read. These are just books that I have had the pleasure to fall into for a little while. So, in no praticular order, here you go; maybe there will be something here you can fall into as well. Who knows?
Fight Club by Chuck Palahniuk. This little pulp fiction novella is not what I would call a classic, but it is intriguing and revealing. It was written in 1996 and examines the rift between the expectations of a generation of men and the contradictory value systems that society presents. The narrator is dissatisfied with his white-collar life and IKEA lifestyle, until he meets Tyler Durden, who eventually leads the narrator into a world of social rebellion invovling insomnia, making soap from human fat, and Project Mayhem. It is not the most hopeful story. as Tyler Durden says, "On a long enough timeline, everyone's survival rates falls to zero." It is confusing, captivating, and, well, adult. After falling into the novella, you may eventually climb out feeling a little itchy, possbly craving a shower. But that is ok, every once in while, write?
World War Z: An Oral History of the Zombie Wars, by Max Brooks. This novel was released in 2006, and it has recently been made into a feature film starring Brad Pitt. The movie was good, but it does not do the book justice. It is a collection of episodic tales from the Zombie Wars, tracing the origins of the disease to patient zero, examining the various reactions to the spread of the disease and rise of the zombies in various countries around the world, analyzing the individual and military attempts to fight the coming apocalypse, and recording the aftermath of the wars that are fought worldwide. Brooks pulls in everything from racial prejudice and nationalism to personal and government responsibility, from modern military feasibility to emotional, ethical, and intellectual reactions to crisis. I have written about this work before, so I obviously like it. Last Christmas, I fell into the book and scrambled through scenes left completely out of the movie. Can't trust Hollywood to do the job our minds were built to do in the first place, can we?
When Pride Still Mattered by David Maraniss. This is a little different work than the previous two selections. It is a biography of Vince Lombardi. I received the book about 10 years ago as a Christmas gift, and once I fell into it, I could not put it aside. Everyone knows Lombardi as the head coach for the NLF's Green Bay Packers. This biography looks all the way back to the man's childhood, through his playing days, on to his time as a high school coach a St. Cecilia's. The events and experiences that influence and impacted the man, not just as a coach, but as just that, a man. It spotlights the courtship of his wife, his struggles to move up through the coaching ranks, and other life events that do not always paint Lombardi in positive light, but are sincere and honest. It even examines Lombardi's impact and influences outside of football in business and in politics. I learned that this man was once approached by both political parties to measure the possibility of the old coach becoming part of each parties presidential ticket as a vice presidential candidate.
I Am Legend by Richard Matheson. This post-apocalyptic novella has been made into several movies; most recently Hollywood bastardized the piece into a film starring Will Smith. It is a great movie; it just is not a movie version of the novella written by Matheson. The novella is about one man's attempt to survive in a world ravaged by a disease that turns all of those around the narrator into vampire-like creatures who try to draw him out of his house each night, sometimes violently, sometimes through grotesque seduction. The most significant difference between the book and the film is the examination of legends, and why we as a society believe or at least hold on to certain legends, and what the very existence of those legends tells us about us and our society. Religious dogma, the necessity for hope, the fear of what is different all play a role in the novella. The plot drew me in, and I felt both empathy and hatred for the narrator. I had to see what he did, question why he would do it, and wonder how I might be different, or the same, if I were in his shoes. That is the great thing about falling into a book: you are taken to places you most likely will not have to go. I hope not, anyway.

I have a few other pieces I have fallen into. Some are more academic; others are guilty pleasures. I came out better for the dive into some, and I came out filthy on the other side of others. However, it is New Year's Eve, and it is my birthday, so I believe I am done with this post for now. I may break out a part 2 at some point, but for now, I leave you. Have a happy New Year, and may you also fall sometime soon. You will enjoy it.

"Twas the Night Before Christmas' (Ok not really, but sort of, or not)

Twas the night before Christmas (Ok not the night,

But that's how it starts, and we must do this right)

The stockings were hung by the chimney with care

(Not the chimney, don't have one; look in the stairway, they're there).

The children were nestled all snug in their beds
(Who are we kidding? They're on their iphones instead)
When Ma in her kerchief and I in my cap

(OK flannel pjs and boxers, we will don for our nap),

When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter

(Probably someone on the leaves I have let the wind scatter)

Away to the window I flew like a flash
(Then tripped on my shoes and went down with a crash)
The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow
(Crap, more shoveling to do with my back screaming  "No!")
When what to my wondering eyes did appear
(I'm not sure, really, through blinds, curtains, and shears)
The little old driver, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment, it must be St. Nick!
(See what I did there, so I could work in his name?
Besides, I've gone long enough, and it seems pretty lame)
So I break from the pattern and go on with my lines,
And if you're too disappointed, tough, you'll be fine.
Mom will be upset that didn't drop the whole tale
She'll ask me to recite it, like other years, without fail.
You have things you should be doing, not reading this blog,
Be it gift wrapping, kid snuggling, or drinking eggnog.
So turn off the computer, the tablet, the phone
And pull someone closer;there is love to shown.
It is Christmas my friend, and time to be spent,
Laughing with loved ones, wondering where the year went.
Sing a carol or hymn, and share in the wealth
That only comes from the giving of time and oneself.
Wrap those all around you in smiles and good will
And enjoy time together, until you've had your fill.
I hope you all can be happy; I know this one line is right:
"Merry Christmas to all, and to all, a good night!'

"You need to blog about this"

On the bus last Saturday evening, Luke Berblinger or Brendan Martens, or one of the other young men who rode home in a state of euphoria, said, "Coach Kohls, you need to blog about this!"
He was right. We were waiting for Coach Warner to come out to the bus after the State Championship game, a contest that saw this group of young men bring Buhler its first State Championship in football in school history. I started a blog on Sunday, but I did not finish it and post it. I take this blog thing seriously, dang it, and this occasion deserved to be done up right, if you will.  I just deleted about 500 words because it was not right. These kids, these young men, rather, deserve better.

Let's take a walk back. Humor me, ok. After managing to grab a playoff berth by finishing as runners-up in our district, we made a trip out to Ulysses. For those who have not lived in southwest Kansas (I did for 10 years, and while the people there are some of the best I know, it is called God's country for a reason: no one else wants it), Ulysses is out there. As Ev Kohls would say, "You're not at the end of the world, but if you stand on your tiptoes, you can see it." On that long bus ride, the kids watched a DVD.  As high school football players tend to do, they chose a football film. Actually, the ride was long enough that they chose two, but we will focus on one of them: Friday Night Lights.  The book that was the basis for the movie came out while I was in high school, and it is, as always, better than the movie. However, nutshell version: people are crazy for high school football, and the kids who play, and the coaches who work with them every day, deal with more than just a boys' game. Communities rally around the ritual of Friday night, and what happens on the field may in fact echo far after the cheers have ended.

Tonight, after achieving a small degree of separation from the euphoria of Saturday's win, I began to twirl the idea of our own Friday Night Lights story in my head. You see, Coach Warner hates football movies. They are too formulamatic, too predictable, and too unrealistic. However, I will say that no one could write the story of this season any better than than Buhler's Boys of Fall wrote it for themselves. I have read Our Boys by a New York Times reporter, and I was bored by it. Sorry, but it is true. Roger Barta and Smith Center deserved better. It wa a sugary lovefest. Yuck. The story of the last true 4A champion in Kansas, the final champion of 64 4A teams, is much better. It is not gushing, glitzy show. This tale is, as the kids say, legit.

The fall of 2013 in Buhler America is a true story of Friday Night Lights. You have every storyline one could hope for. The senior QB returns, only to enter a QB controversy  with a talented sophomore. The senior is injured, adding to the Hollywood conflict. But wait, as he struggles through his injury and the youngster develops as a QB and as a leader, the senior takes on a new role, as a do-what-it-takes-to-help-the-team leader. It is not a commercial forced upon us by a marketing campaign; it is sincere.  After the season, one of the shining moments for this boy of fall is a block against Abilene, when he lined up at WR and slobberknockerred a DB on a power run play, knocking down three defenders and springing the All-Star runningback. It did not show up in the paper or on the stat sheet, but it was a prime example of doing what needed to be done, and relishing the moment.

It does not stop there. When I was a senior in high school, I hoped to write the great American novel. Maybe this will be it. Pick a story line, and I will run with it. True, we had the all-state runningback who everyone looked to, whom everyone knew would shine. Our Booby Miles, minus the dramatic knee injury. He was fun to watch, and an explosive weapon who rolled up yards and TDs, culminating in a stellar performance in the state championship. However, we also had so many other stories, stories so few people will ever know.

We have the warrior who was poised for greatness after sitting out his junior year with a torn ACL, only to destroy the other knee during drills at a college camp late in the summer. I will not lie: I had a catch in my throat when the phone call came that revealed what had happened. It's not fair. But he braced the knee and powered through, cautious at first, unsure of what he could do. He drove me crazy at times, but one could never doubt his heart or his dedication to his team, his boys, his brothers. And in the end, he was a force. A pillar of strength in the middle who would not be defeated, would not be denied. A warrior. A Crusader.

We had the other wounded warrior, who had gone under the knife after a week one injury his junior year. He blazed back and stepped up. A trap on fourth and long. A reception on third and 25. A game-winning TD reception late in a shootout. A lockdown corner when opponent's abandoned the run. In the spotlight? Sometimes, but not really. Playing a role that he had to play, doing what he had to do to push his family toward another goal, toward the ultimate goal? Definitely.

I could go on. Please do not be offended if you feel I left you out; I do not mean to and I have so many stories in my head, and more importantly, in my heart. I sat in the lockerroom last Saturday and thought about all the things we were not, and that defined who we are. We started two DBs that will need cleats and tiptoes to sniff 5'7", but they played with the heart of champions, and earned every bit of the honor that comes with being just that, champions. As an offensive coach, I would want to know where that missile of destruction was coming from at safety, and toughness and heart proved much more valuable than pure athleticism, as evidenced by one frustrated stud in neon socks, and, oh yes, a state championship. Two of our LBs can only dream of running what most people would call respectable 40 times, but they played smart, were tough, and are the epitome of what high school football is about. One broke his leg in the middle of his junior year. The other, well, let's just say I have never tried harder to play off tossing a player a black jersey, while feeling such a huge swell of pride for him. The third LB, a great athlete, spent most of the second half against Topeka Hayden in tears, partially because he had separated his shoulder, partly because he wanted so much to help his brothers win. There is the 160 pound wrestler who lined up each week, giving up at least 100 pounds to the guard across from him, and yet wreaked havoc on those offenses week in and week out. That spot, the quick defensive tackle, is becoming a prized position, a position of true honor and reverence, and will continue to add to our success. We have not even touched on the all-state defensive end who once blitzed while looking the opposite way, and set the school record for sacks, resulting in drawing three and sometimes four blockers on pass plays, all the while caring more about his hair and the team's success than individual recognition. Or the DE opposite who also played TE, and stepped up  and made plays every time he was challenged. Or the two sophomores who lined up over two of the best athletes in state, not just in the championship game, but throughout the season. Go ahead; test them. You will lose. Oh wait; they did test them. And we won.

If you have not noticed, I am the defensive coordinator. The storylines on the offensive abound as well. They could fill a volume of their own.

I could go on. Maybe I will. Maybe this is my muse. I can tell you one thing: this is better than Hollywood. It is real. Sincere. True.

Boys, you are champions. And you did it the right way. Keep smiling; you deserve it.