LOOKING BACK AT THAT FINAL GAME...

Taking a break from the Cubs entry today. Hope you enjoy reading this post about remembering a certain game that my friends and I played in back in high school.

It was the final game we would ever play together, and it almost never happened at all. My senior year of high school football was a year of mediocrity. For the fourth year in a row, our high school team would finish with a 5-4 record and not make the playoffs.

We had a big group of seniors, and we were all very close. In a town of 2,500 and a school with classes of less than 90 students, closeness is almost assured. Everyone knows everyone else’s business, and your parents find out what trouble you’re in before you even have the chance to get home from school and figure out a way to cover it up.

Eight football games down, and our record was 5-3 going into the final game. I guess if you’re paying attention you know we lost the final game I’m about to talk about. The ninth game of the year was at home. Senior Night and Dad’s Night all wrapped into one. The final time our senior class would play football together on the field at Mustang Stadium in Bloomfield, Iowa.
As I look back on this game with friends, it brings up memories I hadn’t even remembered myself.

It was cold, really cold. And it was rainy, really rainy. A late October thunderstorm came to town and delayed the start of the game for two hours. It was so bad that school officials even thought about cancelling the game.

See, the game had no bearing on district standings. We weren’t going to the postseason. Our opponent was and already knew who they would be playing in the first round.
The opponent was number-one ranked Sigourney-Keota. If anyone knows the history of Class 2A Iowa High School football, you know about Sigourney-Keota. The Cobras have won numerous state championships and seemed to be well on their way to winning another. Their wishbone offense made them well-known across the state because very few teams run it, and it’s extremely difficult to stop.

So difficult to stop that in practices leading up to the game, the scout team offense played without a football. You see, in this type of offense you can’t follow the ball because you can’t ever see it. The offense runs with no receivers. The backfield twists, turns, and does circles while the quarterback mysteriously gives the ball to one of the three running backs in the backfield. Before you know it, the player who apparently has the ball is running downfield for a touchdown.

This team was good at what they did, and no one could stop them. No one had all year. Not only was their offense good, their defense hadn’t allowed a point in district play yet!
They were big, really big. Their small farming community raised hard-working kids who had dreamed about playing for the Cobras. They worked hard, harder than anyone else.

Sigourney-Keota might have wanted the game cancelled. They could rest and not risk injury before they made their playoff run. Not us. We wanted to play. This is all we had left. You might be wondering why we wanted to play a team that would most likely destroy us. We wanted to play for pride. We wanted to play because we could. We wanted to play because it would be the last time we ever would.

Thunderstorms finally subsided. We went out for warm-ups, but rain started to fall again so we headed back inside. This time we thought it was probably over for sure. Fans wanted to go home, I’m sure. But they stuck it out. The game finally began after the rain stopped a short time later.

The field was a complete mess, getting torn to shreds. It didn’t matter. It would be over 10 months until the next game that would be played on the field. Standing water and puddles everywhere. It made running nearly impossible.
The Cobras were intimidating. They just looked tough. They warmed up tough, if that makes sense. Their uniforms looked tough. They were huge. But we didn’t care. We were going to have the time of our lives.

Sure, we got killed. Was there any question? We lost 56-7. But the number that stands out in my mind is 7. We were the only team to score upon them in district play. We scored a touchdown in the first half. My buddy seems to think another team scored upon them earlier in the year. I disagree. We were the only team. But, I guess that’s what makes looking back fun. Everyone seems to have a different view.

I led the team in tackles that night as a safety. I know that’s not very good as a team when your safety leads in tackles, but it’s something I’ll remember. My other buddy seems to think he led the team in tackles. I know he’s wrong. I have the newspaper clipping to prove it. Like I said, that’s what makes looking back fun.

Two great memories stand out for me from the game. Here’s the first. The Cobras had a stud of a running back. Jon McLaughlin was his name. He ended up playing at Iowa Central Community College so he wasn’t that great. But, for Class 2A in Iowa he was a stud. It’s funny how everyone I talk to remembers his name. It’s not like we remember any other school’s running back. It’s not like McLaughlin went on to become a star in college. But, for some reason we all remember. Anyways, the highlight came when I recovered a fumble of a ball that he dropped. No, I didn’t even tackle him. I certainly didn’t cause him to drop the ball. It kind of just fell in front of me, and I jumped on it. The wet conditions caused him to drop it. I didn’t run for any yards after I recovered it. It really wasn’t that special or that cool, but I’ll always remember it.

The second memory comes from after the game. You would think that a team that just lost by 49 points would be a little down. Not us. Face it, we pretty much knew we would lose anyways. It was probably close to midnight by the time this game ended because of the delay. I have no idea what the actual time was. No one I talk to remembers either. Remember that standing water I talked about. Yeah, the entire team slid into the biggest puddle near the sidelines. As if our moms weren’t upset enough about washing those white, now-brown pants. After we slid into that mud puddle, the brown turned to black.

Inside the locker room, it was emotional. Just like the ending of any sport, no one really knows what to do or what to think. But this time it was forever. Never again would anyone play with each other on that field again.
Our quarterback would no longer execute the plays his dad, the offensive coordinator, would call. Our parents would no longer see us play on the field. We wouldn’t line up next to each other again. Most importantly, we would never put on the pads again.

It’s funny how much you miss something when you look back on it. I remember not being upset at the time. I remember being glad not to have to go to practice on Monday afternoon. I remember looking forward to free time. It’s funny how much you begin to hate something when you do it for four months straight, nearly every day. Especially when you’re 17 and too young to understand what real fun is.
But, when you look back you wish you had one more chance. One more game, one more play. Just to enjoy it more. Just to have that type of fun again.
Nowadays, my friends and I try to recreate it every once a while. We get together to play touch football on Sunday afternoons sometimes. Maybe 6, 7, or 8 of us might go. It’s not the same, and you know it won’t ever be. But, it’s still fun. We still like it. I think we like the fun of being together more than the fun of actually playing. That fact doesn’t matter though.

Sometimes, other than for this blog entry, we’ll bring that game up. Start talking about it. That’s probably the best part of it because you don’t just talk about the game. I mean, you might for a few minutes. Then it moves on to other things and other memories we have together. Other games. Other sports. Classes. Crazy stuff that happened.

Those type of memories will live forever. It’s even okay that some people’s perception of events are different than others. That’s the fun in it. They can tell their version of what happened, and I’ll tell mine.