Play it a gain, Sam

This evening before I pull up my Honors Sophomore research papers and dive into grading another batch (Yes, Sydney, I am going to grade your tonight, so chill a minute), I decided I need to clear my head a bit, for the good of my students and myself. I do not mind giving the students' work my time on a Wednesday evening, despite the fact that our state senators cannot give even five minutes to discuss a proposed bill that will directly affect how and what we teach in our classrooms.  I chose my profession, and this is my job. It is what we do. However, as I said, I need to clear my head, so I will not write about that. You're welcome.

This week we did a creative writing activity in class which used music. I have the kids close their eyes and listen to a portion of a song. They then have three minutes to create the scene they see. Some kids love it; some do not love it quite so much.  I was impressed with what some of the students produced. I try to use a variety of music with each one offering a different tone and painting a different picture. After one song, a student muttered, "Wow, they just ruined that song." Personally, I like the song. I started thinking. It is amazing how often comments from my students lead me to thinking. I starting thinking about cover songs. Songs originally performed by one musician or band that some other performer has chosen to remake. For some individuals, it is a veritable crime against music to do this. I disagree. The error that is sometimes made is when a band tries to be the original when they cover a song. That is a mistake. Odds are that the second go around will fail precisely because the first attempt was exceptional. A cover song has the potential to be something more, something great, when the performers recreate the song, not in the image of the original but as their own. Notice I said "potential". Even if the new performers make a song their own, it still may not be very good. The potential for greatness is there, however, if the performers are potentially great in the first place.

I am sure some out there will disagree with me. That is completely understandable. However, they are wrong. All right, they are not wrong; they just have a different opinion and differing tastes. And they are wrong. Here is the song that started this rambling train of thought. The original is performed by Elvis Presley. The cover is by a punk band that goes by Leatherface.

Personally, I like the second version. They make no attempt to be Elvis or sound like him. That would be true folly. What they do is perform the song in their own way. They are a punk band, and they made it a punk song. The words are the same, but the tone is different. The energy is different. The song is different. And it is good.

Music is often a matter of taste. I am not a Taylor Swift hater. I actually like her music. However, one band had the guts and gusto to take Taylor's tune and craft it in their own, unique way. The second band is I Prevail, and they might be considered hardcore. It's not screamo. Personally, I prefer their jam, and it is on my workout playlist.

Maybe I Prevail had an easier time with covering "Blank Space" because the song was so new when they put out their cover. Other artists, like Leatherface reach back and grab a classic. That takes some intestinal fortitude. Another band that did that was featured in my previous blog post, but I will use them again. Battleme put out a tune titledPlay it  "Into the Black" which is a cover of a Neil Young song.  My seniors definitely preferred the newer version. The songs are different. Once again, Battleme made the song their own. They did not copy or regurgitate what Young produced. They performed it as Battleme. The made the right choice.

I am sure someone is wondering how in the world I can prefer a cover over an original, or the original over the cover. Honestly, each song stands on its own. The shifts in genre and tone fascinate me. Granted, I am a massive nerd.

At this point, I must go. The music is playing, the paper are waiting, and I made Sydney a promise.  I must do what I do, and do so with a clear mind. Mission accomplished.

"Rage, rage against the dying of the light"

For the last week or so, my seniors have been exploring British poetry that could fall under the umbrella of "Carpe Diem"-themed selections. It has been one of the most interssting and enjoyable units that I have the pleasure to teach. Seniors in high school are a unique tribe, varied and volitile, intriguing and infuriating, energetic and exhausting. We dived headlong into Herrick's "To the Virgins, To Make Much of Time" and combed the lines of Dylan Thomas's "Do Not Go Gentle into That Good Night. (On a side note, my son bears that poet's name. He was not actually named after Dylan Thomas as much as the name chose him, seeing as it was the only name that Heidi and I both liked and that fit the 'little booger' when he was born. I am confident he will rage, against any dying of the light.) The students examined the "If"s of Kipling in an effort to decipher what it might take to become a Man (or Woman), and composed their own conditionals along those lines. They pondered the truth and fault in the theme Housman expressed in "To an Athlete Dying Young", drawing parallels with "Into the Black" (I prefer the Battleme rendition; sorry for all those Neil Young fans) or The Dark Knight. 

I have been impressed with how many of the young people in hours 1, 3, and 4 have peered into the words and images, drawing from them emotions and ideas worthy of in depth discussion. They "gathered their rosebuds", argued that they will indeed catch and sing the sun in flight, and questioned whether it is better to set "foot on the threshhold of shade" before having a chance to experience the silence of decline. 

This week, we moved our way through what many might see as metaphorical "streets that follow like a tedious argument of insidious intent", and I am sure some truly do dread the likelihood that I may ask "What is it?" We examined "The Lovesong of Prufrock", and as the yellow fog cleared from the eyes of one young lady, she asked me "What in the world does this depressing poem have to do with Carpe Diem?" That was a legitimate question. Seizing the day was not exactly Prufrock's thing. "Do I dare?" He didn't dare. So, what was the point? 

A more Modernist view of Carpe Diem was less optimistic than Mr. Keating might have been as he urged his young charges to live life while they could. 

Where some see "Life is short, so live it" others see "Life sucks, so why bother?" Where some see rosebuds and the pleasures of scent, sight, and touch, others see nothing but thorns. I told her I lean toward the more positive view, even though I love the powerful imagery and depth of Eliot's piece. You could say I enjoy the artistry of it all, although I think my definition of artistry might differ significantly from Kanye West's. The fact is, I can understand the lament of Prufrock; I can even relate to it. I do not, however, subscribe to it. That is my choice, and it is a choice we all have. 

So, where am I headed with this? Each day, we have a decision to make. Sometimes we have to make the choice consciously, and sometimes it just seems to happen with little effort. Regardless, each of us controls how we seize the day. For teachers in today's schools in Kansas, it does seem that a yellow fog seems to be sliding around our house, covered in the soot that has filtered down from the scorched remains of what some once called a Great Experiment. But, as my cousin stated last week on Twitter, WE will return to our classrooms each morning and do our jobs. We will seize the day. Why? We will do so because we have to. It is not about us. It is about the kids we see each day, who are learning to read, learning to think, learning to live. We have to seize the day. We have to help them gather the rosebuds, because "this same flower that smiles today, tomorrow will be dying" and not one of us wants to steal away from those uncalloused hands, those as of yet unjaded hearts, the chance to make themselves the best possible members of this little world we live in, even if time may be short. They deserve to be "chaired...through the marketplace", and we will not be the reason they lose that chance. 

So, seize the day. Let those who have helped you gather your rosebuds know you appreciate it, and let those who now seem to want to tear up the rose bushes by the roots and crush them know that you will not stand for it. In short, "Rage, rage agaisnt the dying of the light" and we will not "go gentle into that good night."

I Have Plenty to Do, but I Chose to Blog

I am plodding my way through late work, trying to assure myself that these grades for the first semester are as accurate as they can be. At the same time I have the Packers-Seahawks game on, which draws my attention now and then. Upstairs, a mixture of seasoned ground beef, onions, and cabbage waits for dough to rise so I can craft bierocks. I need to mix the broiled chicken breasts and bacon I prepared this morning into pasta salad for our ELAFL team lunch tomorrow. In short, I have plenty of tasks before me right now. So, naturally, I went on a bike ride earlier, and I have chosen to close out buhlerdocs and open up Blogger for a little while. Makes sense.

This week, I worked on a film for when we begin our spring morning workouts. I love working on those videos. The thought went through my head that I could have done that for a living, maybe working my way up the ladder, squinting and sweating over thousands of hours of sports or news footage, perhaps fooling someone long enough to let me into an NFL Films office or ESPN studio. It could have happened. Or not.

I mentioned that to my Dad. The fact is, I could have done something else. I am fairly intelligent and enjoy putting myself into endeavors, working hard to complete a project or task, tapping into what creativity I can muster, calling forth the skills that great teachers and role models have managed to massage through my thick skull. I think I could have found a path that would have allowed me to make a fair living, probably much more money than I make now.  My Dad cleared things up though, as he has a tendency to do. "But you are doing what you want to be doing. What you love to do. What you are supposed to do."

Dad tends to be right when he says something. This time really is no different. Despite the fact that it seems as if every day I read another article about the gloom and doom that sits on the horizon for those of us in education, I am doing what I am meant to be doing.

Do you know what keeps so many teachers from going that direction? What allows people in the profession to keep rolling in each morning, often 30-45 minutes before "contract time" starts? What keeps them up late on a Wednesday so they can celebrate completing a set of papers that need to be graded or a test that needed to be written? It is so simple that many outside of education cannot understand it until they think of it in terms of their business. It is what we are supposed to be doing. It is what some people refer to as the "why" we must all identify and always keep in mind. Seeing a kid light up when she "gets it", watching a "Sweathog" cross the stage on a May Saturday, reading a letter or twitter message from a former student who found his way and his own passion, learning you made a connection with a student who needed to connect with someone, or getting a hug from a player who overcame setback after setback to win a championship gives a teacher the same reward that closing a deal for a Fortune 500 company, seeing a patient walk out of the hospital doors with loved ones, hearing a song you penned stream from the radio, or seeing a new model of automobile roll off the assembly line for the first time does for each of those professionals. Would it be nice to receive a little more in each check along with that reward? Sure. I would not turn it down. However, when you are doing what are supposed to do, what you have a passion for, and you can put food on the table doing it, you are wealthier than many people who cash comparatively large checks and hate their lives every day.  In addition to that, do you know what we, as educators, get to do each and every day in some way, large or small? We get to help young people discover their own "why". We have the opportunity to help them develop the tools to not only identify their "whys", but also to become successful in those endeavors. How neat is that? (In case you are unsure: it is pretty dang neat.)

Why do I like making those videos? It is because those players are my kids. Our kids. My why. It is just that simple.

Sure, I could do something else. But why?

Writer's Block, Football, Movies, and Music

I do not know what to write! There. Now the few of you that actually read this once in a while and have uttered those frustrated words in my direction can feel I am finally getting my just reward. I have writers' block, and I do not like that. It is not that I do not have any ideas; it is just that every idea seems to be a rehash of something I have already hashed before or is not really worth putting on paper, even the electronic kind.

In my classroom, when some youth, worn down with the grind of academic struggle, brow glistening with the sweat of intellectual exertion, lifts his or her eyes, bloodshot and brimming with tears of frustration, to me in desperation because the words will not work themselves free from the locked cage the imagination and mind, I usually nudge that fine young scribe gently toward creative greatness with such encouraging nuggets as "I cannot tell you what you think; you have to put it together" and the thoughts immediately begin to flow from pen to page, partly, I am sure due to my osmotic creative presence. (If you are bored and nerdy, diagram that sentence. I will hold you in amazing high esteem from today forward.) It is just as simple as that. Actually, when a student looks at me and hisses through clinched teeth how hard it is to write, I usually will sit down next to her and try to work toward some ember that simply needs a little creative oxygen and a bit of fuel to ignite. It is there for most kids, more of us as writers, but finding the proper tinder is not always obvious and simple as blowing on a bundle of sticks and straw.  Sometimes it takes some searching, a few extra swipes across the mental flint, and some sheltering from the factors that spit on the tend flames.  Sometimes, it does take a stern stroke, and the writer will hear the words "Write something. It might be something bad. If you have something, we can build on that." And that always works. Always.

Sometimes, I am in that same spot at my students. I do not know what to write! I cannot get started. Nothing sounds new, fresh, or worth developing. So, I write. I write something, even if it is bad. From there, maybe I can build.  And with that, I give you a string disjoined thoughts that fall out of my head and land on the keyboard.

1.  Every once in a while, it is good to go on a youtube adventure. Call it falling down the rabbithole or surfing or just killing time. Whatever title is fixed to it, it can be rewarding on some level. Not every time or in a deep, life-affirming or life altering way, but sometimes, and in ways that make life more interesting. I have found some very interesting spoken word pieces on some of those rambling jaunts. Some intriguing musical selections have made their way onto my playlists after I stumbled upon songs and artists I would never have discovered had I not allowed myself to float down those internet streams into darker, more dangerous waters. I discovered several groups who perform a harsher form of rock music than most of the music on my itunes (It's not screamo! It's hardcore!"), but I find myself listening to them more and more often, especially during workouts. However, some of it just freaks me out. I am a metalhead from way back, so that takes something.  I have also found some musicians that fall under the modern version more traditional umbrella, such as  Avery Watts, Danko Jones, or Redlight King, and I doubt I would have heard the offerings from these bands had it not been for insomnia, an internet connection, and suggestions lists down the right side of the youtube page.

2.  There are movies that demand that you stop and watch. Sometimes, I do not even know why I stop and watch. Napoleon Dynamite  is not a great film, and I have yet to find a reason to watch any part of the movie even once, let alone repeatedly. However, if the movie is on TV and I flip past that channel, the odds are I am going to watch part of it. I do not know why. He doesn't even have any skills. Gosh!

I find it nearly impossible to skim past The Departed or Gangs of New York, despite the fact that I own each of these films on DVD. These two are different from ND in the fact that they are both extremely good movies. However, I have seen each of them multiple times. However, if I see a filthy DiCaprio strolling the streets of the Five Points with Bill the Butcher, plotting the return of the Dead Rabbits, I am dropping the remote. If I hear Wahlberg spouting obscenities and Damon whispering about how good he is at lying, you have lost me for an hour or two.  The addiction is not limited by genre either. Full Metal Jacket, The Breakfast Club, High Plains Drifter, The Green Beret, Cool Hand Luke, Stalag 17. Any one of those films will stop me in my tracks.

3.  Football fans are fanatical. Most cannot discuss much of anything that is connected even remotely to "their" team without completely losing their minds. We see it at some points with professional teams, but usually it raises its ugly head when college ball comes into play.  It is annoying it many people, and it actually diminishes the enjoyment that should come from the game.  By all means, support your team, even if it is not really "your" team. If you educate yourself on the game beyond how great your team is and how much everyone else is terrible, you would probably enjoy the games more, and actually appreciate what the team you cheer for is actually doing.
By the way, this applies to college basketball fans as well. I did not want KU fans to feel left out of this discussion.

4.  With that in mind, can we now admit that the SEC is basically like the other power conferences in college football? They are a great football conference. They are not the SE Conference of the NFL. Some years they have an unbeatable team.  Some years they have several very good teams. Guess what? That can be said about the PAC-12, BIG 10, and BIG 12 year to year. And, apparently, the ACC is pretty stout too, evidenced by what Georgia Tech did to a top SEC team in their bowl. Top to bottom, those conferences are very comparable. To argue that each year the SEC must have the top team in the playoff, and probably two teams in the playoff, is just as ridiculous as saying the BIG 12 should have had two teams in the playoff this year.

5. On a football-related note, I do not like to listen to college football announcers.  I cannot tell you what sportscaster first said it, or what sport he was discussing, but I do remember hearing an old broadcaster speak on how the best quality a broadcaster can have is to let the game happen for the listeners or viewers, and simply fill in the blanks for them so they feel the game and can become a part of it. I wish more broadcasters could follow that mantra. So often it seems that today's college football broadcasters feel they have to be part of the game, as opposed to helping bring the game to those at home. In doing so, they talk continuously. In order to keep that constant noise going, they often overstate the obvious, or blather on with useless and often incorrect information. If an announcer wishes to break down the running game of Oregon or K-State, he really needs to become informed on those running schemes first. Otherwise, he sounds like an idiot.
Oh, and announcers should read #4 as well. Hate to tell you, but while the east and west coasts play some amazing football, the middle of the country, from Minnesota and Wisconsin to Texas and points in between can do some amazing things on the gridiron. Always have.

Well, I was able to get a few things down on paper. Maybe I will come back to one or two of them later and expand. Or maybe not. I wrote, and for now, that is something.

Even if it is something bad.

The Longest Title for A 'Top List' Ever

Oh Ramblings, it has been too long. I won't make excuses or try to sugarcoat the situation. I simply have not given myself the time to sit and write that I need to periodically give myself. Better late than never though, right?

Seeing as it is the season of "The Top 10, 20, 100, or whatever number is arbitrarily chosen List", I will throw out a "Top" list of my own. I may have done this before, but I don't care. As the kids used to say, "Sorry; not sorry." My blog, my vacation, my list. (Yeah, I have written that before too, I think. Oh well.)

Today's offering is  "The Top List of Books Every Person Like Me Should Read, During Christmas Break If You Are Looking For Something Worthwhile to Do or Need An Escape from the Family for a Little While and Realize that Books Are One of the Only Ways to Actually Enter Another World and Live there For a Little While."  Notice the list is not a list of books EVERYONE should read, just everyone like me. Some of these books will not appeal to everyone, and while those people are obviously somehow flawed, they may not want to read them. I can accept that.  The list is not in the order of preference, or the order in which they should be read. I am on vacation, and I am taking it easy.

And now, the list.

The Road by Cormac McCarthy.
The post-apocalyptic novel was suggested by Greg Froese and was a part of our first semester Honors English study. The novel follows a man and his son as they travel the road following an unidentified catastrophe that has decimated the human population and the landscape. They must deal with starvation, blood-cults, earthquakes, loss of humanity, and a struggle to hold on to hope. I have fallen into post-apocalyptic literature before, and the genre is a favorite of mine. This selection is quite possibly the best of this type of literature. Why? The novel made me think. It made me think about language, it made me think about morality, it made me think about spirituality, it made me think about human nature, and it made me think about the world around me. I had the pleasure of discussion the novel with an intelligent group of young people, which made the repeated reading of the novel even more rewarding. The novel is written by an author recognized as one of the top writers of our time. His style is different than anything I have read, to be sure. That may bother some readers, but it is worth the effort that might be required at the beginning. McCarthy uses flashbacks in a a way that forces the reader to focus and think. He is a master of language and imagery. As one student, Shalee Mog, stated in class, it is beautifully written. Some of the sentences are crafted in such a way that "beautiful" may be the only correct choice to describe them. Several of the author's novels have been adapted for the big screen, and The Road is among them. They did a solid job with it, and I enjoyed it after reading the novel. However, do not give in to the temptation to just watch the movie. The big screen cannot convey the beauty Shalee mentioned, and while I liked the film, another student, Sidney Schrock I believe, called it an abomination because of the excerpts that were left out. I think she may have been a little melodramatic on that point, but those omissions do take away from the overall tale. So pick up the book, dang it!

When Pride Still Mattered by David Maraniss
This biography of Vince Lombardi was given to me for Christmas around 15 years ago. It is more than just a celebration of the Packers head coach as a king of football royalty. Instead, it allows the reader to step inside the world of the man who started out coaching basketball at a tiny Catholic school and rose to an unparalleled level of respect as a football coach. Beyond that, the book gives glimpses of a man who was insecure and often felt he was fighting an uphill battle because he was Italian, a father and husband who was not always the epitome of what men should strive to be, and an intelligent leader who was actually considered as a possible vice-presidential candidate by BOTH political parties. I first heard of the biography in a piece by George Will, and I am truly glad to have read the work by Maraniss.

To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee
I am on shaky ground with my colleagues at times for my choices in movies, music, and styles of dress, so I am not going to risk leaving this one off the list. Scout grows up in the South during the Depression. It is an amazing novel, and to argue otherwise would be foolish. It is an extraordinary glimpse into our past as Americans and our own childhoods; unfortunately, many of the issues raised are not outdated, and in the current climate of intolerance, knee-jerk hatred, and un-Atticuslike behavior, reading and rereading this work is more important than ever.

Playing for Pizza by John Grisham
This in not the most well-known novel by Grisham, but it is worth the read. When a washed-up former number one pick is released after suffering a concussion playing in the big-time, he takes the only gig his agent can find: playing in Italy on a professional team that sits just above club level. He has to adjust his way of thinking, eating, playing, and leading, all while adjusting to the fact that most people in his new hometown have never heard of him. Much of the novel revolves around food, so maybe that is why I liked it so much. The story is not overly deep, but not everything has to move you spiritually and mentally. Sometimes it is just fun reading about a guy playing football on a team where two of his linemen own a local restaurant, and an art student who makes the quarterback chase her, something he is not used to having to do. I do not remember how long ago I read this book, but I do remember enjoying it. They talk about cheese a lot, if I remember right.

I could go on: The Junction Boys, A Time to Kill, World War Z, I Am Legend, Leadership Lessons from Bill Snyder, Flowers for Algernon, Skeleton Crew, Frankenstein, The Blue and the Grey, Huckleberry Finn, 1984, Great Expectation, and many others could easily take a place on the list, depending on what day it is, what the weather is like, and how I am feeling at the time.  I need to keep building my personal list, and I owe it to people like Greg Froese for recommending something different to read that challenged me from the first page.  Not everything has to be a deeply moving experience, but it is amazing when something is, and when it makes you fall back in love with reading.

The more I write on this blog entry, the more I feel as if I have written it before. I have a bad habit of starting blog posts, but not finishing them, and then those half-written pieces become filed away in my sometimes disheveled mind, where they resurface and confuse me. Oh well, it is what it was, or so I have been told. Now, turn off the computer for a few minutes and pick up a book, any book, and see where it leads you. You might just enjoy yourself.

Merry Christmas.

Our Boys of Fall, continued.

Just under a year ago, I sat down and tapped out a blog entry titled "Our Boys of Fall". We had just come of winning the first State Football Championship in Buhler High School history, and I hoped to paint a small glimpse of the image that season will forever hold for me, our staff, the community, and, most importantly, the young men who put together that season. It was no Cinderella story. There had been no talking mice to help piece together a magical evening or a fairy godmother to wave a wand and make everything work out just so. In place of those Disney devices were gallons of sweat and tears, hours or work and pain, and immeasurable volumes of heart and desire.

Yesterday I sat down for the first Saturday in over three months and had no preparation to focus on, no film to break down in anticipation of the next opponent, and no rush to devise a game plan. I sat and drank coffee with my wife, and she told me how badly she felt for the seniors. I went downstairs and sat down on the couch where I spend most of my fall Saturdays. I had nothing to do but watch college football, if I decided that was what I wanted to do. I didn't. I started to watch Minnesota battle Nebraska on ESPN, but three snaps in I turned off the TV and wondered upstairs and out the back door. I lit a fire in the chiminea and started pulling up the withered tomato plants from what was a garden the last time I had seen it in the light. I noticed for the first time that the neighbors across the fence are halfway through building some sort of addition onto the back of their house. Huh.

In short, the day was relaxed, but far from restful. I should have been working.

More than one of our boys, the young men who sweat and bleed as Crusaders, have posted their thoughts on the end of the season on Facebook. Most lament the fact that our season has ended one week early, one week short of the goal our seniors, and every other member of the squad, set as the ultimate goal of the season. They set lofty goals for themselves, a State Championship. Those are hard to come by. They know what it feels like to win one and how much work goes into it, and they were willing to put in that work and shed the tears and blood that it takes to get to that summit. Unfortunately, things do not always work out like a movie script.

That is one of the frustrations I have. Most sports movies end with the team of worthy warriors getting their prize, hoisting that trophy, because that is how it is supposed to be. Remember the Titans, Major League, The Mighty Ducks. To paraphrase Hannibal, from the A-Team, not from Silence of the Lambs, we love it when a plan comes together. A few nuggets of cinematic gold get closer to what most athletes experience, but even then, they cannot get it right. Possibly the biggest high school football film in recent memory, Friday Night Lights, ends with the boys of Odessa falling just short of the goalline at the state championship game, the boys shedding tears that streamed through the blood on their faces. However, the film was based on book that chronicled an actual season of the Odessa Permian Panthers, and it kind of fudged one little detail. The team did not make it to the state championship. They lost in the substate game, the semifinals, to the team that would go on to win the championship game. (On a side note, Boobie Miles did not blow out his knee in an early season blowout after Coach Gaines sent him back in because Boobie's backup could not find his helmet, which Boobie had hidden; Boobie's football career essentially ended in a scrimmage before the season even started. Not as dramatic, right? Let's revise that a bit. Ah. Perfect. Fiction, not fact, but perfect.) Apparently, the moviemakers did not see a loss in the semifinals as quite as dramatic and screen-worthy. It would seem that that would have made them just losers, not losers at the highest level.

Bull. The 2014 Crusaders fell to Topeka Hayden on Friday. They fell short of the state championship game by one week. However, they are far from losers. No one can argue they are. The stories here are compelling, just as they were last year, when the season went one week longer. Don't get me wrong; the state championship is a big deal. Only two teams end a season where they want to be, and only one team raises the trophy and feels like a winner at the end of the day.  We should rightfully celebrate it and the boys who won it. They deserve the ring, the trophy, and the photo on the wall. To reach the highest level of achievement is the goal. They hoisted the trophy and left the field champions. We must celebrate that. They are an example for each team that comes together, and we will strive to meet their standard.

So, we failed to meet that ultimate goal. However, this group of young men has a great deal to be proud of. This team set records on offense that are eye popping. a 2000 yard passer and two rushers with more than 1500 yards is impressive. Many schools have rushing records of fewer than 1500 yards. Passing and receiving yard records were eclipsed and rewritten this season. Behind the records were even more storylines. A player returned from an injury that cost him an entire season and stepped up to start on both offense and defense, displaying the heart of a lion and guts of a warrior. A fullback who once played defensive back lined up in no less than four offensive positions and drew the attention of every defensive coordinator that the team faced, while also firing off as a defensive tackle when the offense left the field. A senior stepped up and made every varsity snap, having earned the position through renewed focus and desire months before his senior season kicked off. Returning starters from the championship team moved from contributors to leaders, from filling a spot to dominating the men across from them. That's what seniors are supposed to do in a program. It was their turn. Younger players stepped up as needed, as integral contributors on the field, sometimes on one or two special teams, at other times filling roles on offense and defense. They battled, matured, fought and scraped, providing spark on the scout team each week and contributing when and where they were needed. And they will be back, setting lofty goals for the next team of Crusaders that is to come. Injuries, frustrations, egos, and attitudes had to be pushed aside and put away, replaced by a love of the brotherhood that is bred in early morning workouts, summer heat, and battles to become stronger as individuals, and to become more than those individuals, to be come a team, something bigger than themselves.

The struggle even went beyond the young men on the field itself. Those young men had to battle through the absence of two coaches. An injury during practice and a medical emergency off of it led two coaches to miss significant time in practice and at games. Their absence was definitely felt by the boys with whom they work on a daily basis. They missed their coaches, because of familiarity and because of personality. Even these instances have led to lessons for the team members, as the coaches battled to return to their rightful places, not for money or recognition, but for the love of the game and dedication to the boys they were pulled away from. Furthermore, the boys saw others step up and step in to fill voids. That is what you do as part of a team, as part of a family.

High school football is about so much more than what happens on the practice field or on Friday nights under the lights. General Douglas McArthur once stated that the football program at West Point was vital to the development of our military leaders, due to the lessons learned through the battles on the field, the skirmishes in the locker room, and the individual and collective growth that is unique within a football team. I have to agree with the good general, and believe the sentiment applies to the high school gridiron as well, perhaps even more so in today's society.  Some boys become men, in part because of the challenges they face through football, and others grow as young adults because they find the guidance and family that might be lacking without the rigors of football. Sometimes, they get what they need, something uniquely important to them them as individuals, which could only come from being part of the team, or the program. We can be surprised by what that is sometimes. One young man told me early Saturday morning, following the somber ride home to Buhler, that he truly appreciated the opportunity he had been given to work with our program. He was not a player, but he was a vital member of the program over the last few year. I tried to tell him how much I appreciated his efforts, his work and dedication, which have been significant to me personally and to the team as a whole. Then he said something that stopped me and that I will hold on to for as long as I teach and coach: he told me that having the opportunity had changed his life.

I end with this: thank you to the group of men that is the 2014 Buhler Crusader football team. Seniors, what you earned over your four years can never be taken away from you. I am proud to have worked with you, to have spent time with you as you have grown up and I look forward to seeing you continue to grow as men. Juniors and Sophomore, you have time before you. You have been challenged and how you react and respond is in your individual and collective hands. You have been a part of great things, and can continue to build something even greater. Finally, Freshmen, yes freshmen, you had an impressive final season as a separate, distinct unit, and you can carry that success with you as you become an even more integral part of the Crusader program. The time flies. Enjoy it. Enjoy being part of this program.  Make each day great, a great day to be a Crusader.

Obvious

I have recently discovered that I am an incurable fan of the obvious. "What?" one may ask, attempting to delve deep into the statement to uncover the metaphysical significance hidden there.  Well, stop. Just reading the sentence. What does it say? I says that I have recently discovered that I am an incurable fan of the obvious.  Yep.

That is not to say that I not find the subtle subtext, the cloaked innuendo, the hidden nuggets of truth equally pleasing or even more appealing at times. However, every once in a while, a tree is a tree, laughter is just laughter, and a hue carries no more meaning than allowing a shirt to coordinate with a pair pants. I do not wear khaki pants because my world is dull and unappealing or my outlook on life does not lack joy or passion. Khaki pants just go with everything.

Today, I burst out laughing at a sign on the internet that should not have had such a significant effect on me, but it did. The sign? A simple brown and white background, overlaid with these simple words: "You know it is cold outside when you go outside and it is cold." That is funny. Simple. Blunt. True.

Obvious.

Some days, that is what I need.