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Mike Moser I know how the Jets feel -- believe me! The Cumberland County High School Jets football
team suffered a heartbreaking loss Friday night at the hands
of rival Rhea County, but in the midst of the bitter loss, something
good happened. They didn't quit and that makes us quite proud
of our blue and gold. CCHS is fielding a young team and a small
team and have suffered some bruising defeats during the course
of this season, but with nearly every game, progress has been
seen in the team and we are still hopeful they will experience
the sweet taste of victory before the season ends. I can sympathize with the plight of the team
because I wore the shoes they are wearing when I was a sophomore
in high school. In Minnesota I started playing football in
the eighth grade, which I feel is a good age to begin such adventures.
We had a very good coaching staff at the consolidated school
I attended and losing was not in our experience or our history. My father was transferred to Alabama the summer
after my freshman year, and we landed in a small town called
Thorsby, AL. Thorsby High School was fielding a competitive team
for the first time ever and we had one coach. I cannot begin to tell you how it felt to
go from a winning tradition to a pounding by Maplesville 63-0.
Or the next week's defeat, 57-6. Or our third game, 56-7 (we
came to the logical conclusion that we had really improved). We almost celebrated when Marbury beat us
39-0. Then there was the game at Dallas County High School where
a drunken driver hit a utility pole and knocked out all the lights
from the 50-yard line to the west end zone. After a 40-minute delay and discovery that
the power company would not repair the pole for hours, the decision
was made to continue the game by playing to the 50-yard line,
turning around and going back the other way so that all the action
was on the lighted end of the field. This worked OK until late in the game when
a Hornet broke free and disappeared into the darkness. They said
he scored but we never saw it. I still have doubts, but we lost
that game 23-16. Our one chance for victory that year came
in the second-to-last game when we traveled to Chelsea to play
another set of Hornets. With less than three minutes in the game,
Chelsea had us 18-14 and we were driving. With the ball on the three-yard line, our
quarterback, Michael Parker, who most recently was on the staff
of Terry Bowden at Auburn, called 32 dive which was a handoff
to a back running up the middle just to the right of the center. We were so inspired, and opened up a hole
large enough to drive a 1970 Oldsmobile Delta 88 through, but
Parker turned to his left to hand off the ball ... no one was
there ... he dropped it and we lost. Parker transferred to Jemison
the next year. One day at practice coach got really, really
mad at the line (we averaged only 20 players on the team, including
freshmen) and told us to sit against the fence. He said we disgusted
him and it sickened him to look at us ... well, OK, he didn't
say it that nicely. We kinda enjoyed it because the ends and backs
were working their butts off and we were just sitting there when
the Dark's Dairy milkman stopped by. His name was Donny McRae
and he asked us what we were doing. "Coach said we make him sick and he didn't
want to see us," we told McRae. "Come on, fellas, get up and we'll do
some drills," McRae said. We didn't know McRae had been an all-conference
center at the University of Chattanooga. He finished the season
working with us and the following season as well, when we went
4-6. Our senior year was a joy. Alton Culp, a recent
graduate of Auburn University where he played guard, joined the
coaching staff and suddenly Thorsby was ranked 8th in the state
and we were paying back a lot of teams for the trouncings they
gave us two years earlier. We played five homecomings that year ... ours
and four away games. We spoiled a lot of special nights for a
lot of teams. Don't tell me I didn't learn a lot about life
in those three years. I learned lessons I never got in the classroom. I almost didn't go back my junior year to
play. Summer practice started and I stayed home, deciding I didn't
want to take the poundings anymore. One night a pickup truck
loaded with football players showed up at my house. "Get in," they said. "You're
playing. Coach sent us." And that was that. I returned for my last
two years and have never regretted it. I look at CCHS and see so many big students
walking the hallways and wonder, "Why aren't they playing
football? Has anyone ever asked them?" I know some believe that if a kid wants to
play, he will show up on his own, but from personal experience,
I don't necessarily agree with that. I hope the Jets continue to improve this year.
I hope they hit the weight room with a renewed dedication and
vigor. I hope they sweep the hallways and recruit kids who need
to be in a uniform. Football is a great game. All sports are great
teachers of lessons of life, lessons absent in the classroom.
Even when you get pounded on Friday night. The scoreboard can
never take away the experience and the lesson of what working
with others, discipline, instincts and self-pride in knowing
you truly did your best. Go Jets! |