There are three in all honesty.

Back in the day, I wore low cut, screw on, imported kangaroo hide cleats. Very soft. Cannot recall the make to be honest. Maybe Adidas? Wearing them, I was blessed to play in one of the oldest highschool football rivalries in Illinois, dating back to the 40’s, for the Old Oaken Bucket. No, I wasn’t playing in the 40’s. Sure feels like it now though.

Then onto college ball. These size 12’s may have even been my carry overs from high school. They felt like gloves on the tootsies. I wore them far beyond their shelf life. Copious amounts of tape had to be applied as they neared retirement. Huh. Sounds familiar.

This trot to the line of scrimmage was on a Saturday afternoon in what was then called the Knox Bowl, in Galesburg. It was an offensive series during our upset win over Monmouth to regain the vaunted Bronze Turkey. A battle regarded as one of the oldest college football rivalries west of the Alleghenies. Perfect timing for Thanksgiving break.

Here they are one last time before the start of my final season playing, ever, in 1980.

Then as life moved on, and kids came into my life, I had the opportunity to coach them all in soccer, baseball, softball and football. I stayed in my field after coaching my sons and have been there ever since. Youth, highschool, a year of college, then back to high school. As you can tell, a little more support was needed to keep this old horse moving.

And now that my days wearing my low cut, screw on, imported kangaroo hide cleats have caught up to me, my field shoes these days are more of the low cut, slide on, fabric of the day, extra cushy variety.

My field has grown since those days as a Red Devil and Siwash.

I still manage to put on the whistle for the best three months of the year, now in Jackson.

But I also coach those with diverse abilities in an effort to find their field of life too.

No whistle needed there.

Just lots of patience.

Love.

And hugs.

In the best field ever.