What was your first ever videogame?

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It will come as no shock to you that my scheme today will employ some poetic license, and veer towards the figurative side of the ball.  Hope no one takes offense at this option.  

Mario with the youngins aside, if I break down the fundamentals on this assignment, I see “video” and “game”. That took me back to the only time I have ever spent playing on a screen.  

Back in the stone ages, when I pounded the rock as an offensive lineman in highschool and college football, I spent hours viewing game film. On this contraption. 

Scouting an upcoming opponent.  Learning how to improve and grow to better face them on the field. Sitting in those little desks, in a dark classroom. With a pinch of “Cope” between my cheek and gum.  Communicating in grunts. Enveloped in the aroma of football funk.  

A compelling teaching tool, providing instantaneous, honest feedback as to how you performed.  More importantly, stark, genuine evidence of how you prepared.  If you went through the motions off season, in season and the week leading up to the game, it sure as heck would be known to all.  No hiding from that whatsoever.  A cornerstone of building positive and lasting football habits.  But moreso, life ones. 

Makes me tear up just thinking about it.  

Sigh. 

Anyways. 

Coach held the clicker. The implement of lasting life or imminent death. He could speed up the film to a play, series or drive he wanted to focus upon. If you did good, you might receive some praise, via coaching mode.  Like “…you see what Hahn did there boys?  You need to keep your hips lower and your feet going like he did.” 

Conversely,  you may become the focal point of exactly what not to do.  

Like “…you see what Hahn did there?  I have no idea who taught him to block like that, but if you guys  want our fullback to see his 18th birthday, NEVER block like that.  I would ask where your head is Hahn, but it seems apparent to me and all in this room.”

If the whole line blocked well, then a batch of kudos may appear in a half-dozen or so back and forths of that play.  Not many words.  Just praise via his decision to share it over and over, leading us to repeat it in our heads and in ourselves again and again.

A great form of some fatherly affirmation for a job well done. 

(Oh, and Bo was not my coach. He just happened to be in  the only old school one I could find.)

Heaven forbid we all screwed the pooch as linemen.  Worse yet, as the entire offensive unit.  

Yikes.  

Thank goodness the video of our games was captured on 16mm film.  A media that tended to become brittle, degrade and disintegrate over time.  If not, we would still be watching film from our collectively poor effort at RB in ’76.  

“Who’s the best? RB, RB!

Who’s the best, RB, RB!”

That just gave me the willie’s.