1.26.2009

Common sense a casualty

I've been tempted all evening to comment on this story, but I feared it would just sound like some old geezer talking about how he walked three miles in the snow every day to go to school. Then my old buddy Paul Daugherty filed this, and I figured it was OK to chime in.



Back in the day, when I played football for the Lawrenceburg Tigers, there was never, ever water at practices. It just wasn't done. Funny thing, there was always water during a game. Don't ask me why -- back then, players didn't ask questions and coaches never explained. That's just the way it was.


We practiced, and played, in every kind of weather. We didn't clear the field at the first hint of lightening, like they do today. Hot, cold, it didn't matter.


The worst ever was a game at North Vernon (Ind.) in a downpour, after a couple of days of rain. The water on the field was ankle deep and we were all covered by so much mud after warming up that, by kickoff, you couldn't tell which team you were on. I remember a runner being tackled and sliding across the muddy field, water spurting out of the earholes of his helmet. Honest.


After the game, we walked into the showers fully clothed and stripped off piece by piece as we washed the mud away.


But I digress.


We've learned a lot since those ancient days, a lot about conditioning and training and nutrition and hydration. I hope this death was just an unfortunate incident, not the result of some macho coach trying to make his kids tougher.


Hopefully, this incident will make coaches think through their training philosophies and be a more mindful of the welfare of their players. But I really hope it doesn't make coaches so fearful that they won't push kids to dig a little deeper, to try a little harder, to keep going in spite of the pain. To overcome the elements as well as their opponents.


There was never water during those two-a-day practices under the blistering August sun. There probably should have been. I would have loved to have a glassful just to pour over my head. Times have changed, things are different. Mostly for the better.


But hopefully, this is a constant: Sports, and especially high school football, taught me lessons that made me a better, stronger person and helped me get through the roughest patches of my life. How to slog through mud and still win the game. How 11 guys can grind through heat and humidity and dust and swarming gnats to execute a play and score a touchdown. How to do your small part, knowing that the other 10 guys are counting on you and that if everyone does his job the team will be successful -- but if one person doesn't, the team will fail. How to deal with pain and fear and still succeed.

Let's hope that unfortunate events and lawsuits don't rob future generations of these lessons.


-Paul Knue



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