What Happens to Football Heroes?

On a silver wing, a prayer and a football game, the trip was on my mind. I couldn’t think too long, the kids were supposed to pick us up at seven a.m. It was my birthday weekend, and I was going to milk it for everything it was worth.

My magazine series called Saga in the Sandbox was also on my mind. It’s about what happens to men over sixty-five after they retire. When we hit McDonalds in Alamosa at nine a.m. we were right on schedule. Now I know what happens to retired men, they go to McDonalds for senior coffee.

Allison, our daughter said, “Look around, we are the only women in the place, it’s running over with little old men.  Can you imagine them in high school 50 years ago hanging out in the halls. They were probably the football heroes on the team and Pagosa’s rival! Look at that one with the sweet round face. He was probably Centauri’s linemen.”

“And look at that one with the ten gallon black cowboy hat, he was probably the toughest kid in the valley. He looks so sweet showing off his grandkids photos on his I-phone.”

“Do you have your camera with you? I now have faces for my Saga in the Sandbox. Would you take some pictures for me?”

“Okay, but I don’t want them to see me.”

“Not to worry, they’re busy probably bragging how they made that touchdown during their last game back in the old days. They’re having their second cup of coffee and eating courtesy apple pies. They would never notice how we’re trying to place them in their 1950 yearbook.”

Back in the car I said, “I posted a note to Creede. He didn’t answer.”

My daughter said, “You haven’t heard? The coach has cut off the team in all forms of communication and social media for the whole week. They went dark.”

Joe E Cervi, my new favorite sports writer put it this way. “Periscope down. Delete all tweets. Delay the Instagram. Crackle and pop the Snapchat. Social media, the collective voice of a generation, went dark this week —At least among the players and coaches of the Colorado State University-Pueblo football team.”

One day the guys will be talking about that.

Our daughter said, “We can’t afford to show them what we got. Today, the Mavericks are their big rivals. Coach Wristen called it Operation Lock the Gate. The guys from the opposing team were talking a lot of smack, they were, as of today, undefeated, things could get out of control.”

We were all kept in the dark. Like a pressure cooker, they kept the lid locked tight right up until game time. We were about to see what happens when they channel testosterone for a whole week.

One of the opposing players mouthed off and disrespected the Thunder Wolves in warm ups. He stood in the middle of the field on the CSU Thunder Wolves’ Symbol and taunted the team. The pressure pot was at capacity, and fightin’ words were said and CSUPueblo wasn’t going to take it.

One of the CSU football players grabbed him and a fight broke out. Security came running from everywhere. Coach Wristen knew what he was doing.

My daughter said, “Do you remember when Pagosa High School played Gunnison? It was our homecoming game. The Spirit Club parked that black car in the school parking lot. The team wrote “Gunnison” on it in red. For a dollar, kids took a swing at the car. I think they were just trying to make money for the prom committee.”

“They did more than that. And I do remember, Creede was taking his aggression out on that old car and put a hurt on it.”

“When Gunnison saw what Pagosa kids were doing with their name on it, it fired those cowboys up and they beat the socks off of us. That’s what Coach Wristen was trying to prevent.”

“Good call. It worked. We gave no fuel for CMU and CSU channeled it all on the field and we won big.”

On our way home our daughter had promised to treat us to ice cream for my birthday.  Our son-in-law intentionally drove right past the ice cream shop in Monte Vista to see if we had forgotten the ice cream.

Not for a second. It was like we were at a tennis match. All our necks craned right, our eyes bugged out, and our heels dug into the carpet. Someone broke a nail on the window. “What are you doing? You past the ice cream shop.”

My son-in-law said, “I know. I wanted to see what you’d all do.”

I said, “You almost got yourself killed. You can’t tease us like that.”

Final Brushstroke! I milked that birthday and had a Peanut Buster Parfait. The Wolves are on the loose with one more win before playoffs. And one day, those football heroes will end up at McDonalds on a Saturday morning remembering how they took out the Mavericks and showing pictures of their grandkids.