Fall Means High School Football Across America

Fall, also commonly known as autumn, is upon us. The days are getting shorter, the leaves are turning colors, the kids are back in school and football is being broadcast on network or cable television seven days a week, 23 hours a day. Fall has always been my favorite time of year for a variety of reasons, not the least of which is, fall means football across America, and I, modestly speaking, was an awesome high school football player.  Interestingly, the older I get the better I remember being but that’s probably just the effect of the concussions. If you were to look-up the word “Fall” in most respectable dictionaries, adjacent to the definition (the season between summer and winter when the days begin shorter and the weather gets colder) you would likely find a black and white sketch of a pig skin, a raw hide, a football. Just for the record, the word fall also means to drop, or to be defeated, captured or overthrown. All useful football terms — I’m just saying.

Like virtually every other part of the country, Friday nights in the fall are reserved for high school football games. From the time I was in elementary school, I can remember attending Eagles football games under the lights of Wendell Grubb Field at Mountain View High School. I idolized my hometown heroes and looked forward to the time when I would be old enough to don the blue, silver and white varsity uniform (imagine the Dallas Cowboys) and join my teammates in battle against our rivals in the Santa Clara Valley Athletic League.

Just for the record, I didn’t start out as an awesome football player; it involved a maturing process over many years. Growing up on the playground meant you played two-hand touch or flag football every waking hour once school reconvened. Keep in mind, this was 1967-1974, long before soccer or water polo was invented so our options were limited. At recess, lunch, after school and every weekend in every neighborhood, it was just assumed that any and all available kids would gather and be divided up into teams (stud athlete all the way down to paste eater) and a game would ensue. Touch football is pretty self-explanatory, this was before it became politically incorrect and a form of sexual harassment to touch someone else unless you had their permission. Flag football, in its purest form, consisted of two strips of bright orange plastic attached by Velcro to a canvass belt.  However, in a pinch, flags could be constructed of almost anything including Glad plastic bags, construction paper or my sister’s discarded bras. Both touch and flag football provided the fundamentals needed for the inevitable graduation to full pads tackle football.

Most high school gridiron wannabes ultimately signed up for Pop Warner football. Pop Warner is a youth football program where tween players are, for the first time, suited up in full pads, including helmet with chinstrap, girdle, to protect the hips and pelvis, and an athletic supporter (aka Jock). The Pop Warner experience can best be described as a test case in Darwin’s evolutionary theory as it is truly “survival of the fittest” played out three days a week at the hands of a group of sadistic coaches. It should be noted, in the yesteryear, the typical youth football coach never actually played the game of football.  Or worse, he was the high school water boy or equipment manager. That meant the coach either had a grudge to bear or wanted to live vicariously through his players. Either way, the “coaching” was often secondary to the physical brutality of hitting drills to weed out the weak. Think dog fighting with cleats.

Football camp typically opens in early August. For those readers who are not football educated, “camp” is not about sing-a-longs and roasting marshmallows. Football camp is the start of practice and that usually means a torturous two weeks of double days. That’s code for two practices a day, six days a week in the hot August sun. Surviving camp, prepares the student athlete for the rigors of practice during the regular season when their schedule includes the hassle of attending classes, completing homework assignments and taking tests. Being a football star doesn’t give you a free pass when it comes to the books (unless you go to college in the SEC). As grueling as the schedule is, it’s all worth it when it comes to, pep rallies, marching bands, cheerleaders and ultimately game day. I would imagine that virtually every adult reading this article may recall the feel of cheering on their beloved school team in the crisp air of a star filled autumn night. If you were fortunate enough to strap on the pads and play in one of those memorable games, you are undoubtedly wiping the tears from your eyes and the sweat from you brow as you recall those euphoric and exhilarating times.

Freshman football is both frightening and exhilarating. The higher-level players quickly want to establish their reputation. It’s similar to being the new fish in prison. It’s usually a good idea to identify the toughest guy in the yard and beat him to a bloody pulp just to show the rest of the yard you’re not to be messed with. Let’s just say, I was rocked right out of my before mentioned jock, that first week of full contact scrimmages. That first season, I played mostly in the 5^th quarter and as even the most unsophisticated of football simpletons know, a regulation football game only has four quarters. The fifth quarter allowed the really bad players to at least get their uniform dirty. I was that bad! Needless to say, life between the lines improved my sophomore year playing on the Junior Varsity. I worked my way into the starting line-up of a 0 wins-10 loss team playing both offensive lineman and linebacker. I made the varsity team as a junior, but that may only have been because, as my teammates and I played to yet another 0-10 record and we weren’t especially deep in talent. The interesting thing is, after that second winless season, our group of winless warriors committed ourselves to working tirelessly in the weight room, on the practice field and studying game film to be a better team. It’s amazing what a group can achieve if they rally together for a common cause. As one might expect our senior season was magically successful. Most high school athletes do not go on to play in college, which often means their last high school game/season is the pinnacle of their team sport experience. It’s great to go out a winner.

High school football in the fall is said to be a religious institution in states such as Florida, Louisiana and Texas. The movie, Friday Night Lights, based on the actual Panther football team of Permian, Texas, (changed to the fictional town of Dillon for television) epitomized what high school football means to small towns across the country. The popular NBC series portrayed an honest account of both high school and high school football that often had me cheering and choking back tears in the same episode. Another “must see” high school football movie (one inspired by true events) is the Oscar worthy, Remember the Titans. I dare any former player not to cry at that one. A few more HS football movies worth seeing include: The Program, Varsity Blues and Gridiron Gang. For those who prefer a good read, I recommend the fictional story, Bleachers by John Grisham. It’s a real tearjerker about teammates reuniting for their former coach’s funeral. Just for the record, it’s totally acceptable for former football players to cry. Despite the violent nature of the sport (it’s not a contact sport, it’s a collision sport) most players are protective and caring by nature.

A wonderful non-fiction read is When the Game Stands Tall by Neil Hayes about our very own De La Salle Spartans. When it comes to high school football, we are very privileged to live in close proximity to De La Salle High School in Concord. It’s Mecca for any true high school football fan. Bob Ladouceur, will likely go down as the most successful high school football coach of all time. From 1992 to 2004 he guided his team to twelve undefeated seasons, setting a national winning streak record of 151 consecutive wins. Entering the 2012 season, his record is 384-25-3. Coach Ladouceur’s 93.6% winning percentage is a national record amongst coaches with a minimum of 200 wins and he is the winningest high school football coach in the state of California. Under his leadership, the Spartans have won seven national championships, sixteen state championships and De La Salle has topped the USA Today rankings five times. De La Salle is one of the preeminent high school football programs in the country.

If I appear passionate about this topic, it’s because I am! It has been said that characteristics of a successful football player and team are keys to success in everyday life. The qualities of hard work, dedication, sacrifice, teamwork, determination and perseverance are attributes employers, friends and even spouses look for and admire. Since my daughters were little girls, I’ve been taking them to cheer on our local area high schools under the Friday Night Lights. I couldn’t be happier that our oldest, Hannah, is now a freshman at Monte Vista giving us a real connection to a team. Look for me the next time your in the stands at a Mustang game any Friday night this fall. I’ll be the guy wearing a red and black letterman jacket with a tear in his eye.

Side Bar: This piece is dedicated to my high school football coaches, Rich Ryerson and Dan Navarro. Additionally, I would also like to recognize several of my unforgettable teammates including; Russell Peoples #33, Tom Cooper #35, Frank Dowse #16, Eric Cook #90, Nick Siler #91, Chris Mateo #25, Mike Murphy #34, Wayne Kaku #55, Lon Tokunaga #47, David Olmos #26 and Chuck Smith #68. Even though our school was closed in 1981, we will always be MVHS Eagles forever. Mike #66

Growing up, I can only recall one or two households that had nothing but girls. The traditional family of the 1960’s had one boy, one girl and a dog. If there was a third child or in very few cases four or five, the boys usually outnumbered the girls. I don’t have any actual census statistics to substantiate my claim, however until about the mid -1980’s, boys just seemed to be the more dominate sex (numbers wise).

Maybe it was the emerging popularity of hair care products for men, or the television shows we watched in college (Dallas, Falcon Crest and Knots Landing) or perhaps the feminine “Crocket and Tubbs” pastel fashion styles of that time period, but something began a shift in the Y chromosome gene dynamic. The male population has begun to diminish as evidenced by the number of men I know personally who are the fathers of only daughters (34 were contacted for this magazine piece).

“Having only girls in the house means you have to listen, learn, hug, hold and love like crazy. I also change a lot of toilet paper rolls.” Jeff M., four daughters.

“With a houseful of women, you never know what you might find hanging in the bathroom”. Ben S., three daughters.

 “You have to be prepared to always knock and wait for an “enter” response before approaching any closed bedroom or bathroom door.” Vic A., one daughter.

It’s not like adolescent boys sit around the tree house picking out names for their not yet born children, maybe once in an Orange Crush and Skittles haze, but it wasn’t unconscionable to think that one day we would all have sons. Someone we could take fishing where we would pass along life lessons. Then the moment passed and we were back to talking about baseball cards, comic books or farts. Boys aren’t especially deep in those developmental years.

“I don’t miss having a son because my daughter fills that role perfectly (with a few obvious differences). From an early age, it was apparent that she would have a love of sports, especially baseball. Some of my happiest moments have been while playing a game of catch or sharing the experience of watching a ballgame with her. Experiencing a wonderful father/child bond through the love of the game of baseball is really special. As my wife is fond of saying, “She’s the son you never had”.”  Chris F., one daughter.

“It warms my heart when we’re watching a Giants game and one of my girls says something like, “Bochy should send Posey on the next pitch”.  Dan M., three daughters.

“My girls do every outdoor activity a son would do including hiking, wakeboarding, snow skiing and competitive sports. They are amazing.” Jeff M., four daughters

A few years out of college, when I began interviewing candidates for the position of Mrs. Michael Steven Copeland, I began thinking about the prospect of being a parent. The notion of being the father to a strapping lad was intriguing. He would be a natural athlete who I could throw the ball with in the yard, a fine young man who I would teach to tie a tie or just a “mini me” to take over lawn mowing duties. At the very least, I was hoping to sire an heir to carry on the family name. Being the last remaining male Copeland, I now hope that one of my girls will consider hyphenating their last name.

“I love when my daughters ask me to cuddle and tell me that I’m their best friend. Then they change the channel.”  John K., two daughters.

“Daughters are more likely to take care of you when you’re old and senile.”  Rob T., two daughters.

“My daughter thinks I can do absolutely anything, except braid her hair.”  Jim L., one daughter.

How I ended up with two daughters is beyond me. Yes, there are those conspiracy theorists who believe that the bigger the “hound dog” a man was in his PDY (prime dating years) the more likely he’ll be to be blessed with girls. That’s God’s sense of humor. He’s paying us back for our carefree ways and indiscretions. The irony is, given our unconditional love and desire to protect our baby girls at all costs, we have morphed into a generation of uber-involved, ultra aware, crazy-connected Dads. I pity the poor boys visiting our homes to court our daughters. They’ll likely begin sweating once they walk through the door and notice our unflinching glare during the introductions. Their bodies will shiver with insecurity during the intense pre-date interrogation. Ultimately, they will fear for their lives once they hear the “If you touch or hurt my daughter you will die” have-a-good-time farewell. As the saying goes, “fathers of sons worry about one boy. Fathers of daughters worry about all the boys.”

“Being a single father, there was a big learning curve when it came to clothes, make-up and feminine hygiene products. I’m very thankful my mom was around to help.”  Kevin P., one daughter.

She may go more to her mother on emotional issues, but I’m her go-to guy when it comes to needing something fixed. I’m her in-house help desk for all things computer and electronics.”  John J., one daughter.

One challenge of being the only man in the house is that we are often expected to take on the role of mediator, arbitrator, magistrate, adjudicator, judge and jury between feuding girls and often between feuding mother and daughter. This is a “no win” position to be in. Be impartial, but if all else fails, support the mom.

“It’s tough being the “good guy” and at the same time supporting your wife unconditionally because she’s already the “bad guy”.  Mark T., two daughters

“You have to be prepared to referee inevitable fights about borrowing clothes, make-up and jewelry. It gets worse when they borrow mom’s stuff.”  Scott E., twin daughters.

“Save the Drama for your Mama,” is also a favorite saying at my house. Girls are predisposed for drama given their roller coaster of emotions and over active tear ducts. There’s friend drama, sister drama, school drama, sports team drama, there’s texting and Instagram drama and then there’s actual Drama Club drama. I’m now experiencing the boy drama sessions. My canned response is, “boys are bad except your Dad.” Where boys are full of testosterone, energy and, once teenagers, raging hormones, girls are made of sugar and spice and everything nice mixed with a little female crazy. The best that we, as fathers, can do is to be a non-judgmental sounding board. More often than not, our daughters just want us to listen.

“I have found when one of my daughters makes a statement about a subject, which sounds like a request to step in and help her solve the problem, what they really want is for me to just listen and not respond or offer advice. This is difficult to do. I’ve learned that they also don’t want an unsolicited opinion because that is perceived as not believing they can solve the problem themselves. When they do ask for my input it is usually well received.”  Dan M., three daughters.

“I choke-up whenever I listen to My Little Girl by Tim McGraw or Daughters by John Mayer. They grow up so fast and we do our best to love them and keep them safe.”  Jeff L., three daughters.

Some dads think they’ll miss the father/son athletic component of parenting, but let me tell you we live in an area where the quality of girl athletes is astounding. The Tri-Valley produces some of the country’s best female soccer, lacrosse and swimming college prospects and I’ve known dads that were just as excited about seeing their daughter’s compete in chorus, band and cheerleading. In an early article, I wrote that kids spell love T-I-M-E.  Never underestimate a daughter’s need for her father’s attention, approval and involvement. I’ve brushed a lot of Barbie hair, spent considerable time shopping at malls across the country and seen more than my share of Disney/Pixar and Dream Works movies all in the name of father/daughter togetherness.

“With girls, going to the mall can be a religious experience with a heavy emphasis on donations?”  Jon F., two daughters.

“I had to learn three separate dance routines so that I could be each girl’s dance partner at a recital in front of 2,000 people at the Herbst Theatre.”  Barry C., three daughters.

“The only negative to having only daughters is not being able to get enough TV sports time without catching grief. That and having to experience the cult following of the American Girl doll store at Christmas time.”  Brian J., three daughters.

At the end of a long, hard day, there is nothing more heartwarming, more smile generating or more worthy of unconditional love than a daddy’s little girl. From the minute the doctor placed Hannah, my sweet and innocent first born in my arms, I knew that I would move heaven and earth to love and protect her forever. Then she pooped and started crying for her mother. The feeling was every bit as emotionally overwhelming when my second swaddled bundle of joy, Claire, arrived. Then she spit up on my shoulder, a substance that looked vaguely similar to what her sister pooped, and she cried for her mother. Once the bowel moving, vomit inducing introductions were complete and they were fed, I began what can only be described as a miraculous journey built on love, trust, humor, compassion, admiration and pride that has forged an unbreakable bond. I am the father of (only) daughters.

“There is nothing more touching than when I secretly get to watch her looking at the Adoption Day Album.”  Jim L., one daughter.

“I have saved every handmade Father’s Day card my adult daughters ever made me growing up.”  Scott E., twin daughters.

“My heart melts when my daughter and her daughter kiss me good-bye and tell me they love me (as both Dad and Lolo – Grandfather).”  Mark T., two daughters