9/20/98 By the Dashboard Lights

by Dave Friedli

Fall's Fraternity

The sound travels throughout town, carried on a wind of hope and

promise. At first, it is unintelligible, but those who have

experienced it find the muffled, rhythmic tones enter their body and

unite in some mystical way with a memory, connecting yesterday's

heroes with today's hopefuls.

Football practice has begun.

The 1-2-3-4 counts of calisthenics. The "hut-hut-hut" of

quarterback signals. The shrill whistle which starts countless wind

sprints.

Between stretching exercises, leaders clap and exhort their

teammates, encouraging, demanding, and challenging.

Feet stumble through agility drills, making mistakes at first which

result in twisted ankles and bodies face-forward in the bare, rutted

ground. Gradually mind and body learn to respond, first to the

thought commands sent step-by-step, right-left-right-left-right, and

then later unconsciously, reacting rather than responding.

Pads pop as the experienced and inexperienced alike drive their

shoulders into dummies and blocking sleds, and a sharper, pad-on-pad

sound punctuates the connection between two bodies as form drills

transform into live scrimmages.

Coaches bark instructions, and bodies hustle to conform and impress.

Accurate performances are encouraged with pats to the shoulders,

helmets and butt. Mistakes mean repeating the action until it is

perfected. Lackadaisical efforts have more immediate consequences of

laps or pushups.

Early morning workouts on wet grass. Humidity measurements which

approach 100%. Clothing soaked from moisture in the air and on the

ground. Socks which are wrung dry after practice. From head to toe,

participants have a dank, earthy smell.

Afternoon practices under cloudless skies. Hot, dry wind. The cool

temperatures of early August fooled anyone who believed a week of

two-a-days could be conducted under gray metallic skies. The grass,

which in the morning had been cool and damp is now dry and rough.

The ground hardens under the pounding of cleated feet, and it abrades

elbows and knees.

Clouds have gone on their final vacation for the summer, and the sun

brings forth rivers of sweat. Afternoon workouts are bathed in salty

perspiration which burns the eyes and stings in every new scrape and

cut. There is a smell of commitment.

Young men toughen up. Newcomers learn the difference between pain

and injury. Coaches grow impatient and confident at the same time.

Faces grow a look of desire. Team unity has names, printed on

jerseys. The sharp snap of chinstrap being clipped to helmet signals

a readiness for action. The brave stand near the coach. Those less

confident observe over teammates' shoulders.

And there is hope. In August, every team is undefeated. Every

roster has its share of star athletes. The new defensive wrinkle and

the new offensive set hold promise of domination.

Fall's fraternity meets in the shadow of the school building, adding

another chapter to a storied history of the game. "Red Right, 45

Strong Counter" and "Sky Four, Corner Fire" are part of the

fraternity creed. High-fives are the secret handshake.

Alumni members watch the proceedings, having been drawn by the

heartbeat of years gone by. Some observe discreetly, watching from

open car windows as they pass by, observing for perhaps the first

time the posted "Slow, School Zone" signs. Others hang over the

fence near the practice field in groups of two or three, reliving the

time when their body was as agile and their desire as strong.

The days of grueling practice will turn into nights of glory. And

the those who endure will be part of the brotherhood of Fall's

fraternity.