Sunday, February 6, 2011
Our wood stadium proudly sported our team name and was always populated by loyal, loud fans. At least as long as the team was winning. One of the school's traditions was to kick-off the season with a big bonfire in the stadium parking lot. Both the cheerleaders and football team would attend in uniform, and students would wear their letterman jackets if they had them. I have this vague recollection of the bonfire being discontinued in my last few years of high school. There must've been some sort of scandal. It didn't take much to qualify as one in the early 70's.
I remember some small, but fast quarterbacks, defenders' knees being blown out, great coaches who made lousy teachers and one of our least popular principals writing a letter of apology to another school when we beat them by a ridiculous score. He had a point, but you didn't want to be caught siding with him.
During my last year or two, when I became an expert in self destruction (long, sad story that began when I was 5 or so), my pals and I would attend the games just long enough to say we were there. Parties and keggers became our focus.
And now I've grown up.
There he is, my little brave. Of course, he changed since he was in my coloring book. He used to have a clutch of arrows in that hand, for one thing.