The helmet and pads came off for the last time in Beloit forty-four years ago. And to this day, I remain 65, an O-lineman. Yet true to that slice of heaven; the line of scrimmage. There were inklings back then, ongoing thoughts thereafter, followed by a steady flow of contemplation. All of which collaborated to assert one absolute truth: it is what made me who I am today.
Now there are many aspects of the game. Mine happened to take residence in the box. And two fundamental elements running in parallel, at two different depths, conjoined to make it the greatest ever invented.
First, there is the passion that circulates throughout the game itself.
The oftentimes brutal physical nature of competition between our five and theirs. Knock down, drag out brawls on every play, in that box. Contusions, scrapes, strains, breaks, tears and blood were all part of the agreement, confirmed via handshake after the game. But without a doubt, this was what we looked forward to in the weight room over the winter, throughout the week in practice, leading to those glorious Saturday afternoons.
Yes it was fun. But more so it was pure joy. The residue of which could be felt until that following Wednesday.
Then within that framework of the game, was yet another element. That something that permeated to your core; a passion for what it demanded of and from you as a person. True, it extracted from you. But at the same token it replenished you, on a deeply personal, emotional, mental and spiritual level. You see, being on the line of scrimmage gave back ten fold of what it took, in an unparalleled manner.
Yes, it was a game. But it proved to be much more than that. Each opportunity granted, lesson learned and affirmation supplied possessed a gravity all their own.
Like becoming one who gladly accepts the weight of the moment being granted.
Shunning the spotlight.
Leaving it all out there for those on your left or right.
Embracing your failure on the play before as impetus for your success in those yet to come.
Valuing a level of perseverance garnered by enduring exhaustingly hard work.
Appreciating your role as one who paves the way for others to succeed.
As time passed, these and many more of the gifts granted during those precious moments on the LOS became more apparent as they weaved themselves into the fabric of life off the field. Confirming the veracity of their mass in substantial and lasting fashions.
Such as accepting and engaging the weight of all responsibilities in all manner and form, arriving on their time, yet touching every aspect of your being.
Discovering the value of humility through promoting others.
Freely giving of oneself without any expectation or desire of return.
Knowing that there is much to be learned in defeat – whether personal or professional – and that your response to that event will eventually lead you back to the outcome you desire; victory.
Mustering oneself to embrace personal sacrifice and persevere, regardless of the cost, to improve, grow and become what you are meant to be.
Providing empathy, care, attention and love that will ensure the safety, security and success of those all around.
It has been said that football is the game of life. A statement of fact to which many will attest.
This O-lineman suggests that it is taught in numerous, lasting and most compelling fashions – particularly at the line of scrimmage. Lessons that continue to emerge from that original classroom, bound to a core curriculum, taught on a field that is now being professed in the home, at work, in the community and throughout the world.
The last snap was 44 years ago.
Age and infirmity aside, if given another chance, the passion to play remains. An offer would be very difficult to pass on rejoining this pastime. That passion still remains.
Fortunately, the LOS still remains ingrained within. A space I will occupy throughout the rest of my life. That perpetual source of passion that runs to my core. An avenue to now teach the lessons embraced while on it.
Defining one’s true purpose.
...my temporary assignment. 