PIGSKINS AND PIGPENS

I loved playing football. There was something about the smell of the grass, the team effort, and the chance to run into someone at full tilt that gave me joy.

My senior year playing football in high school was the finest. I knew that every game drew me closer to my last game, so I played my heart out and enjoyed every minute.

All good things seem to come to an end eventually, and so it was with my favorite sport. I played my last game in Jefferson, Texas.

Near as I could tell, Jefferson was in its monsoon season. It had been raining there for a week and it rained the night of the game so hard that we could not see more than 30 yards. Another interesting feature was that there did not appear to be a blade of grass on the field, only an ocean of slimy mud.

As no one could get up too much speed, there wasn't as much chance of getting hurt as there was of getting drowned. Everytime I ended up on the bottom of the "pile" on my stomach, my face was under water. Now I don't mean the kind of water that comes out of your lavatory faucet, I mean gritty, brown soup with dead grass for texture.

I don't remember what color jerseys either team wore that night, but after five minutes we all looked the same: chocolate (uniforms, faces, feet, and faceguards). That gets kinda confusing when you are not sure who to block, tackle, or slap on the butt?

Jefferson had a tailback named Ronny T. Ronny was about 6'2" and 220 pounds of hard steel. He later played for a small school in Austin referred to as the University of Texas. Jefferson ran only two plays all night long. Ronny T. ran over left tackle or he ran over right tackle, nuthin' else. Now when I say "ran over" left tackle, you better believe it.

The defensive tackle on the opposite side of the line was 5 foot, nuthin' and weighed 150 pounds. Everytime Jefferson's battering ram would hit the valiant defender, ole lightweight would end up flat on his back with his head pointing toward the opponents goal line.

I'm not gonna snitch as to who the punchin' bag was, but ole frankie finished that game with both eyes almost swelled shut from the beating.

I played my last "pigskin" game in a "pigpen", and we lost, but I finished my career that night with a feeling of satisfaction knowing I had given it all I had on every play that year, and I didn't drown in a mudhole in Jefferson Texas.