The Eagles – Revisited

As I opened the door to take Ralph and Max outside this morning, the dark chill almost made me turn around to get a jacket. But this was their second trip out, George having taken them earlier when we first got up, so I knew this would be a short round. I braved the cold.

I always breathe a little deeper when the air is crisp. I enjoy the way it plays against the sides of my nostrils and on down my air passage…like spearmint gum only better. In the fall, fall is my favorite time of year. I feel the same about spring and summer and to be honest, winter has even claimed the honor on occasion. But today, fall is my choice and I remembered other fall days.

Fall in the south means football. I don’t mean football that you watch on Saturday afternoons. I don’t mean Monday Night Football. I don’t mean Sunday afternoon pro games. I mean Friday night high-school the whole town turns out…football. Real football.

The excitement began with a traveling pep rally. For the uninitiated, this southern phenomena would begin at the high-school where everyone met to form a motorcade on Thursday evening. Each car would take its place in line with the first two being reserved for the cheerleaders. Once the motorcade was formed, we all gathered in a large circle for a few cheers to get everyone in the football frenzy mood before packing back into the cars. The motorcade then wound its way down the drive from the high-school and up Clinton Street to the town square where the cars circled the square a few times with horns honking and a teenager (or several) hanging out of every window.

Once the Square had been livened up the cars proceeded, horns honking, to go to each and every football players’ home, park along the street, exit the cars and gather in the front yard to do another cheer. The football player never showed his face (would not have been cool), but porch lights were always left on in anticipation of this unabashed show of hero worship. This fervor would build with each stop and by the time we arrived at the quarterback’s house or any of the top first-string players, it had hit a fever pitch.

For out-of-town games a pep rally was held on Friday morning in the auditorium. After the entire school was seated, the band would take the stage and play our fight song as the players solemnly entered and seated themselves in the three center rows which had been reserved for them. The band would exit the stage, the cheerleaders would take their place and the frenzy would begin all over again as the players sat there and accepted their due. When the hullabaloo was over, the players would stand and quietly file out of the auditorium and move onto the cafeteria where a steak dinner had been prepared for them and their coaches. The cheerleaders were excused for the remainder of the day and there was actually very little, if any, academic activity for anyone on a football Friday.

On those weeks when there was a home game, the pep rally took place in the early afternoon and consisted of the pep squad, cheerleaders and band leading the entire school population down Clinton Street to the Town Square. Once there, the band lined up on the Courthouse steps and the cheerleaders led the throngs in fight sons and cheers. The townspeople stopped whatever they were doing, shopkeepers filing out into the streets, courthouse workers leaning out windows…everyone joined in.

After all this it might seem the games would have to be almost anticlimactic, but not so. Friday night found most of the town crammed into the bleachers amid a party atmosphere. This was what it was all about, the camaraderie, the coming together for a common cause, the pride in hometown boys. Football was a wonderful leveler in a small southern town of sororities and social cliques. On that night and in that place they were all the same and they were all rooting for a common cause.

Win or lose, good or bad, this was their team and these were their kids. Players would be elevated to lofty status or delegated to the warming bench based on their performance during the next four quarters, their names as familiar at the dinner table as the people who lived there. The game would be played again and again the following week in barbershops, at lunch counters and retail shops all over town – every play analyzed, every fumble scrutinized and every touchdown scored again.

Standing in the chill of this morning I felt gratitude for the legacy I was given by the people of that small town and the many life lessons I learned there. I wish I could be there for the game tonight.

GOOOOOOOOOO EAGLES – GO !!!