Way OT: Off the Beaten Path

Submitted by Winchester Wolverine on

Surrounded by walls of cornfield and amidst deteriorating roadways and stop signs, are four one-hundred foot light poles rising from the ground. They're cracked and weathered, probably one good thunderstorm away from collapsing to the very field they were built for. The grass of this gridiron is withered and brown, as the ole, trusty sprinkler system hasn't really been "trusty" in years. There once was a rubber track around this field, only now, it is barren dirt and rock which is overlooked by a white, sad-looking press box that can be seen hovering above the rusted stands errected years ago. Positioned unevenly across the press box are the words "Mississiniwa Valley Blackhawks", with the school logo printed underneith.

I was sitting on their old, beat up couch, visiting my parents in the summer of 2014 when my step-dad came into the living room and asked if I wanted to help him coach the junior high football team at Mississiniwa. I didn't know too much about the school at the time, only that he had graduated there and played with the local legend, Curtis Enis. It didn't take much convincing on his part, however, as I've always wanted to coach football; the greatest damn game on the planet. After agreeing and receiving my one-year contract, I quickly found myself on the field, overseeing a bunch of young men on their path for self-fulfilment or the fulfilment of their father's wishes as I would come to find out. 17 kids total, outfitted with outdated equipment and old, filthy white jerseys. A rag-tag group if I've ever seen one. I was a little apprehnsive when camp started my first year. I didn't know what to expect or how to convince young kids to take my word for anything. I didn't know how to be stern without being harsh or calm without being too lax. In fact, I still struggle with finding the right balance. Some kids need guidence on the field. How to throw a ball, make a cut, force a block. Others ask for advice for complicated situations at home. Coaching, as I came to realize, is a job within a job within a job.

The first game was one to remember. With only two seconds left in the fourth, down by six in the red zone, our 7th grade QB threw a perfect fade in the corner of the end zone. One two point conversion later, we were walk-off winners. The FIRST WIN the junior high program has seen in 3 years. Brimming with confidence, that quickly faded, we went on to lose every single game afterwards. It crushed the kids, and me as well. I almost spent more time playing psychologist than I did playing with actual X's and O's. I felt that, somehow, it was my fault. I let the kids down. But despite my relative ignorance in a few essential elements of coaching, my dad and I somehow did well enough to earn another contract --- and a few more athletes --- the following year.

I walked into the lockerroom for the first day of 2015 camp to be greeted by 28(!) kids. The now 8th graders from last year were bigger, stronger, faster. Practices had more energy, I had more experience. Everything just, well, fit together. My optimistic feelings about the overall outlook of the team in the pre-season came into fruition as we started 5-0. A school first. Our extremely athletic tailback, coupled with a talented quarterback, strong line and recieving corps spearheaded this historic charge. The high school hadn't even accomplished this feat, even with Enis. Parents and fans noticed and became more active. Tuesday evenings on the field started looking and feeling like Friday nights. I've never seen so many fans at a Junior High game.

Then, like most stories, a turn for the worse.

Sitting on the same old, beat up couch, we were discussing football when my dad got a phone call. A few seconds later, he dropped his phone on the ground and fast-walked outside. Concerned, I followed, and found him on his knees in the front lawn, sobbing.

"My brother's dead, my brother's dead!", he managed to say between horrific outbursts of screams.

I still hear those words in my head. Seeing my 300 pound, bearded manly-man of a father so hurt. He NEVER cries. Never. As it turns out, my uncle had commited suicide. A move no one saw coming.

We had a game the following Tuesday, which we both still coached. This game in particular was a big one, not only because of a death in the family, but because in the history of MV athletics, no team has ever beat Miami East at anything. We rode the bus to their expensive, better equipped stadium. The kids were silent on the way there, something of a rare occurance to not hear twenty-eight 14 and 15 year-old boys. During warm-ups, they did not speak. A fire was lit behind each one of their eyes. In 32 minutes, these boys did something for my father that can never be paid back. All the times my dad had personally took in a kid for dinner because he had no food at home, or the uplifting, hour long conversations with a few kids about their struggles with family, or just giving each kid the opprotunity to vent and ask for advice was re-paid in full. This game, a junior high football game, defined a legacy that still hangs in the school and in the local bowling alley as a picture with the score of Miami East- 8 Visitor- 20. These kids won the game, but more importantly, each wore the color purple for suicide awareness. They broke out of each huddle with "for Ronnie!", my uncle's name. They've never met this man. In fact, the pure brutality of suicide is a topic that most young teens can't fully grasp. Yet, here they were, to pick up my dad when he needed it most. I don't think he could have found joy in any other way at that time.

You could see it in his eyes. His dark and hazy eyes bared all. My dad, whom never cries, cried the day he heard the news, and he cried again after that game.

We finished the season 6-2. An all-time high for the sport of football in this school which sits in the middle of nowhere. So many things can happen in those places, in the middle of nowhere, that can be missed. It is here, off the beaten path, that winning found its way. Winning in life, in death, and in football. 

     

Comments

UMgradMSUdad

August 12th, 2016 at 12:39 AM ^

Thank you for writing and posting this.  Real life always has greater poignancy than fiction, and I can only imagine the pain your father and family have gone through.

 For Ronnie!

readyourguard

August 12th, 2016 at 5:58 AM ^

Congratulation on your team's success. I know the feeling and it's always a source of pride when your team exceeds expectations.

On the other hand, nothing is as devastating as suicide. It's haunting. RIP to Ronnie and best wishes to your big bearded burly dad.

Lilliana Grant

November 18th, 2020 at 1:06 AM ^

Winchester Wolverine, this real tale has saddened me. Honestly, I can only imagine only one half of the pain your father and family are feeling right now. Losing a brother like this is very heartbreaking. May his soul rest in peace. Well, whenever I need to hire an online writer I read reviews about him on https://britishessays.net/myassignmenthelp-com-review/ website and it helps me finding the best and reliable writer for my tasks.