First Tackle

There are moments in our lives that are a huge deal for us, and nobody else may ever notice or know. One of mine was during seventh-grade football – and it is a moment I’ve looked to many times throughout my life when I was momentarily apprehensive about a situation.

from the manuscript "Even The Losers..."

 

I’d been given my pads and uniform, and was ready for the first day of practice. Somehow, I’d even put on the hip pads correctly – something not all the first-timers had done properly. I was less intelligent, and more lucky in this instance.

They had us stretch and do jumping jacks. They had us run, and do push-ups. Like many of the guys involved, I never played Pop Warner, so the coaches were going back to basics.

The coaches showed us the different stances – the three and four point. How-to-backpeddle-without-falling-assfirst. They showed us how to block using the blocking cart. They showed us how to tackle with tackle dummies.

But now, it was time for first contact.

It was time for tackling drills – against other kids on the team.

For many of us, this was a first time. I suspect other guys had mothers very similar to mine who hadn't allowed them to play until we were in middle school.

For others, this was old hat – and their opportunity to show their dominance over the tackling virgins.

Chris Miller was The Alpha-Male. He was a quiet guy, but not because he was timid. He scared most of us enough without talking. He was that guy who had always been stronger than everyone. He was going to be the quarterback, and we were going to run a lot of Option ball so he could carry it. Because he was that good. And strong. And fierce.

Nobody wanted to make him mad – because he could kick your butt.

And nobody on our team wanted to try to tackle him – because he could kick your butt.

In the first two of the five rounds of tackling drills, I was set against Kurt Babcock and Jonathan Williams. They were both like me; newbies. We kind of collided into each other too high, and there was little essence of tackling. The coach screamed at me to get lower; to keep my legs moving; to keep my head up and wrap my arms around the waist.

“Wrap up! And drive your legs, Larson!” he yelled. I would always be Larson to him. If he knew my last name, he decided he didn’t want to use it. He must have had a Lawson break his heart, because to him, I was always Larson.

In the third round, I looked at the upcoming guys on the other side. I was three back.

Chris Miller was three back.

Shit.

Chris was going to be the offensive player, and I was supposed to try to tackle him.

Shit.

Two newbies collided too high, and the coach yelled at them. “Wrap up, and drive your legs.”

Shit.

Chris looked bored. He’d been running through everyone during this drill. Nobody had tackled him. He either juked them and left them with their facemask in the grass, or he ran and pounded through them, leaving their ass in the grass.

It was a moment in life, I knew that.

No way was I supposed to be able to tackle Chris Miller.

The guys in front of us went, and I paid no attention to them. My mouth dried and heart raced. My natural instinct was to be nervous. This was a first, serious attempt at tackling. My eyes tried to focus on what was taking place around me. My heart raced a bit faster, but I worked on remaining calm. Thousands of people had done this before – hell – millions. This was no big deal.

Shit.

“Okay. Miller. Larson. Ready ... ” the coach stated.

“Go!”

I lowered my hips and looked at Chris, judging where he wanted to go based on his hip position. He started to dart to his left – and I positioned myself in front of him. I lowered my shoulders and looked up – finding my face properly positioned to his left hip.

We collided, his legs still running.

I wrapped my arms around his waist – and kept my legs pumping.

I drove him back just half-a-step, and he went off kilter. I held on for dear life and press on, still running myself, driving him backwards to the ground.

“GOOD TACKLE, LARSON!” the coach yelled.

Holy shit. I just tackled Chris Miller.

We got up. He was pissed. I was scared.

But I’d done it.

Guys looked at me like you look at a person who just pissed on a police officer’s shoes. Astonished. Dumbfounded. With that look of “You’re screwed” in their eyes.

But I’d just taken those lessons I’d been taught, and used them. And they worked. If I could do it, couldn’t anybody?

I got back in line. The two sides of boys were uneven. As I was approaching the front of it for my next chance – this time to be tackled – I looked across the way. I was third in line – and on the other side, Kurt Babcock was third-in-line. Chris Miller was fifth-in-line.

Whew. That’s good, I thought.

And then Chris pulled aside Kurt and another teammate – and took their place. It might have been my imagination, but I think he was growling.

Shit.

I took the ball and ran forward. It wasn’t an attitude of defeat, but one of Shit. I knew Chris was going to take out some Miller justice. And he did. I wasn’t fast enough to escape his speed. He lowered himself, put his facemask on the ball and drove me back several yards as he punished me with an echoing tackle.

But I held onto the ball… I didn’t fumble and I didn’t whimper. Football is about getting tackled as well as tackling.

I got up right away. It was a shocking feeling, but that’s what we were supposed to be doing; tackling. I thought it would be whippish to whine about Chris pounding me – and while I’d probably prefer it being someone less able, it’s not like life always gives you someone easy to dodge. Sometimes, you have to take the hit – and you have to get up from it before you let it affect you. It’s not just a mind game to show an opponent you’re tough enough. It’s a mind game to remind yourself that pain tolerance needs to be built ... and built upon.

Miller and I would again meet in the drills one last time. Again, I was able to tackle him – but it wasn’t as clean a hit. He’d juked me just enough to make it a sloppy tackle.

But I was able to tackle Chris Miller. Sometimes well. Sometimes not.

But I’m able.

And with that ability, I can see myself doing just about anything.

Chris, I think, had some respect for me at the end of the day. Or maybe he’d already forgotten. I didn’t make a big deal out of anything to my other teammates. A few guys mentioned they didn’t think I could do that; and to be honest, I surprised myself. But it was a moment that I will always recall as a milestone of life.

It was a moment I have looked at many times when taking on new challenges and changes where I’m feeling apprehensive.

It was probably a moment few others noticed or know about.