sl.blog

As this blog bleeds out of me as we near the midnight hour on what will become the last day of June, we’re just nine days away from the Lions first preseason game. The team is looking sharper. The defense—hard-hitting and often ill-tempered—runs 11 strong (plus depth). The offense is smoothing out its run and pass game. And the special teams, well who can tell yet? That’s probably a good question for the player/coach Brian Schremp, a 12-year veteran who seems surly, yet fair.

If you look to your left, you’ll find a link to the Lafayette Lions Web site that details a bit of their history, which includes the starts, stops, and resurrection of the original Lafayette Generals—the semi-pro team who first took the field in 1972. It’s all news to this 40-year-old rookie.

We put the pads on last night. Made me recollect the 1970s, when I last strapped on any such gear. As a third-grader, I remember the trip to Leer, Desmond, and Leonard (the latter being of the “boom baby” Slick Leonard fame) to get fitted for my first days of football. I was a puny sort.

Today, middle age has left me thicker. While I squeeze into snug undergarments I wonder about the percentages of a gym verses beer body. I figure I’ve got about 62 percent body fat, but I’ve never been tested. I sweat like a son of a gun just getting the belt through the loops, and wonder if I should be taking an aerobics class. The pads don’t seem to correspond with the pants, so I’ve got one for the butt, though my hips are open to harm.

At practice, I’m anxious to take a hit. Catch a pass and get planted. Walk back to the huddle after someone’s best Jack Tatum impersonation, and see if muscle memory serves me. It never really comes on the first night. After stretching and warm-up routes (which always leave me pretty tired), we go into the scrimmage where three tight ends sub in every three plays. Surprisingly, I’m at the bottom of that depth chart. I did run one “nine route” and an unseen linebacker knocked me back to the line of scrimmage. I land on my ass, protected by that single pad.

Sideline veterans talk about Ashante Woodyard practice hits that sent receivers home for good. Last year Ashante, a former Purdue defensive back, apparently dropped Laszlo Nanassy something awful. Laszlo is a young Hungarian working in a research lab at Purdue who reportedly made his way to the sidelines like a punch-drunk fighter. But he returned, and the hit he took has become part of his persona.

We’ll fire up again next Tuesday and Thursday. I’ve got a facemask which I hate because a bar comes down right between my eyes. It makes me want to look cross-eyed at it, and I’m thinking I need an unobstructed view in case any balls fly my way. Maybe I’ll take my hit next week. I’ll keep you posted at the Bill Blog next Friday.   

Here begins a Sport Literate blog. Until recently, I was clueless to this blog business. Couldn’t differentiate blog from Shinola. And I don’t like the sound of it: too much like blah, blah, blah. And who would want to sift through anyone else’s “Web log?” Foul and pestilent indeed.

Still, I’m entering the fray of the millions of virtual writers, droning on to what could be an audience of none. Somewhere over the electronic transom these bloggers (me now among them) tap dance across keys spilling bits and pieces of their guts and minds. And someone in Pink Floyd once asked, “Is there anybody out there?”

For my blog part, I’ll be brief. I’ll put myself in enough of harm’s way to come up with something to say. My first such act of foolishness started the last week in May when I tried out for the Lafayette Lions Football team. I pulled a hamstring purple, black, and blue just running around in short pants, and then went to work on my groin. Many of us reach a certain age in adulthood where you’re never really asked to run fast to another location. So when you suddenly do, those sleepy muscles react violently. I’m much too old for semi-pro football, and my friends think I’m semi-retarded for even attempting it.

But, barring cuts or dismissal from the team, there’s more to come. Tune in every Friday (if you’re out there) for reports on the grand gridiron experiment. With a stolen page out of George Plimpton’s book, I’ll dub myself the Online Lion for now. Truth be told, I’m an easily winded tight end who’s much slower than I remembered myself to be. In the jungle warfare, I’m just trying to learn some routes, catch a few balls thrown my way, and keep my head on my shoulders. Next week: pads accompanied by pain.