GRIDIRON MARTYRS - Opening segment (Scroll down for previous chapters)


      There were two reasons I attended school: one, sports; two, sports.  I loved baseball and basketball, but I approached football with caution.  Although I played one year, I was more interested in health care.  It was Coach Hardman, the high school football coach, who spurred my interest in this area. 

     Every year during football practice, players would mysteriously disappear under the bleachers, never to be seen again.  I took this as a sign…a large, brightly flashing neon sign that screamed…DON’T PLAY HIGH SCHOOL FOOTBALL!  I considered this wise counsel.       

     Coach Hardman was also my geography teacher.  That alone discouraged me from playing football.  Just having him look at you with a furrowed brow was enough to make you take a step back.  When he gave you his patented glare, his eyebrows appeared to meet in the middle of his forehead.  If he thought he heard you talking in class, he would slowly raise his head from behind a book at his desk. Then, like the rising sun, two eyebrows appeared, forming a nice “V.”  I was certain they were going to jump over the book, run over to my desk, and slap me upside the head.   I felt like moving several desks back, in the next room.  The eyebrows were intimidating.  I knew I wouldn’t want to run into them on the football field.  Still, Coach Hardman managed to round up just enough guys to field a football team; guys that were willing to sacrifice everything for two eyebrows. 

     Several blocks from my childhood home, someone recently unearthed an old tattered jersey, some shoulder pads with the pads missing, along with splintered pieces of helmet and various bone fragments. 

     Some of the native townspeople were called in to identify these unearthed treasures.  What they discovered were ancient football burial grounds dating back to the early 1960’s.  The site was once called the “greenfield”, a field where kids in town would go to play football on Saturdays during football season. 

     I still remember getting those phone calls.  “Hey, Maberry, wanna go play some football; maybe chip a few teeth or dislocate a shoulder?” 

     “Great!” I’d say.  “See you there in a few minutes.”

     The “greenfield” was also where our high school played their football games.  It was on this very field where our football team would go down in infamy; flames, too, but especially infamy.  I’m surprised no one questioned why we had a football team.  After all, we won only one game in three years, and it’s still under investigation. 

 

 

To be continued...check back soon