BEHIND THE MIKE

The fall of the year brings us glorious colors, fabulous weather and a nice respite from the burdensome heat we enjoy here in Florida.

Fall means something else to me. It is time to suit up. I get to start as the “ball boy and get back coach” for the St. Cloud Bulldogs freshmen, jay vee and varsity football teams. Life is good because I get to join my son on the field. He is one of the coaches. There is no other place I’d rather be than down on the field at SC.

“Ball boy” is my principle duty and I get first-hand involvement on every play. I carry a spare ball, a towel and sometimes a bag of sand (for the rainy days). I get to chase down the errant passes and catch point-after-touchdown kicks in the end zone. Easy for you maybe… but I am pushing on 80 and the wheels do not turn like they used to.

Referees look at me with some pity. They keep asking me if I plan to have assistance on the sideline. I am generally younger than most of them. Usually “ball boy” duties fall to the kid with a broken wing or a broken brain (they failed in class this semester).

Referees as a rule are not exactly high on teenager ball boys. They tend to spend the better part of the time chit-chatting or texting with their girlfriends. At my age, the last thing I need is a girlfriend and my fingers are too fat to text. So, other than being older than dirt, I offer limited liability, speed and flexibility.

I am also the “get back coach.” It is my job to keep the players in their “box” on the sidelines that is designated for coaches, chain crews, referees and ball boys. The younger players respond best. They believe me when I yell “get back.” The older the kids get the more they think they can take all the liberties they want.

When the players crowd the box, it puts those entitled to use the area into jeopardy. For instance, if a play is coming toward the sideline, coaches, chain crews, ball boys and others start to turn to run. There is nowhere to go.

Trust me. It can be dangerous. Several years ago, I was working a game on a Friday night in St. Cloud. I usually stand behind the offense. It is the safest place because the ball typically goes down field.

Occasionally, there is an intercepted pass or a returned punt or kickoff… and bingo you are in the line of fire! Mind you, I am paying attention but the kids talking about their dates behind me are not.

I turned to avoid harm one night and there were a dozen kids in the way. The ballcarrier was coming right for me. He took my feet right out from under me and I landed on top of him. On the game film, all you could see was the bottom of my shoes.

The second player that followed landed on top of me, forming a nice “ball boy” sandwich. So far, no real harm done.

The third, fourth and fifth players who rammed me were not so polite. I ended up breaking three ribs and probably should have gone straight to the hospital. While all the bodies were being peeled away, I was thinking to myself on the bottom of the pile… I am dead… I am sure of it!

When they finally got the mess untangled, my son Cory, who is the strength and conditioning coach, helped me. I threatened his life if he tried to put me on some dumb stretcher or ambulance. I do not care how much it hurts. I am staying in the game.

I am not sure what heaven looks like (and I doubt I will ever find out) but for me, this is close to my perception of heaven. Maybe we Catholics have the doctrine right. There is a place between heaven and hell where one goes to suffer for one’s sins - Purgatory. This must be it.

Michael Aun is the author or 11 books. He resides in St. Cloud, Florida.