AN UNCOMMON BOND — COACH HAD TO LOVE ME — I LOVED HIM
Attending high school was a particularly challenging period in my life. I came from a home that was not conducive to nurturing a high school student. My mom and dad argued continually over money and I often felt I was the only reason they stayed together. They made my life a living hell most of the time. Trust me it was a horrible environment. On the other hand I was no angel. The combination of poor parenting along with a naturally rebellious and angry child was toxic. To add to the mix I was six foot four, two hundred and fifty pounds of pure animal at times. Not only was I a monster physically but it didn’t take much to set me off. Also, I had my teddy bear moments. I was so confused and conflicted that most of the time I didn’t know how to behave. I was often caught between being macho and just being a good kid. Aside from all this bullshit I was immature being younger than most of my friends and being exposed to things I shouldn’t have.
My large size made me a target for high school football coaches. I’m telling you, I was built like an ox and I had the strength and demeanor to go with it. One of my coaches once tested my hand strength with a special meter and claimed I had the strongest hands he had ever seen. I crushed the meter with my left hand. I was also very good at arm wrestling.
While my life was practically devoid of any family support I sought out friends who were like me. Guys who were tough and were always in trouble.
At first my good side resisted the call of the wild but the comfort of belonging and the support I received from my peers was irresistible. I felt very comfortable with my cohorts or partners in crime.
My dad for all his shortcomings wasn’t really a bad guy. He was for the most part stifled by my mother. Kind of a beaten man in many ways. He always enjoyed being with me and my friends. He would brag that my buddies had more character than my older brothers’ friends. He appreciated our toughness and loyalty towards each other. He didn’t much appreciate the trouble we would find ourselves in from time to time, especially with the police. He liked that we were the real deal though. We were a cocky bunch but we weren’t punks. We were able to back ourselves up and many times we did. Had very little respect for the establishment or authority.
One day our head coach, Butch Bruno wanted to know why I wasn’t playing football. Coach was a very cocky and tough guy. I think he pictured himself as Knute Rockne. He had played football for him at Norte Dame and according to the movies spoke like him and even looked like him. He was also a local hero having been a football star at Asbury Park High School in the early days. He looked me in the eye all five foot six of him and demanded an answer. He did not ask me to play, he asked me why I wasn’t on the squad and demanded that I join. Holy shit, this guy has no fear and meant business. I thought he was going to slug me. The next day I showed up for practice and then started my admiration for this bigger than life guy.
To start with I was out of condition. At the time I was sixteen and had developed a two pack a day smoking habit. We began practice by running two laps around the track. I made it around half way and ran into the tunnel to the stadium and waited for the team to come a round again and inconspicuously ran out of the tunnel for the second lap. Coach noticed but said nothing. Then came the drills. God I was worn out before I started. When the drills were completed Coach came over to me and grabbed me by shirt. Brought my face down to his level nose to nose and told me to get my ass on the track for another lap. I was dying but I dug deep and finished.
By the time I completed my lap the team was scrimmaging. Coach put me in at left defensive tackle. The offense called a play directly at me and I smeared the runner. Then they came at me again and again. Coach was screaming and yelling a the top of his lungs how great I was. Then they came at me again. I shed blockers and pounded the runners.
When practice was completed Coach called to me “hey you big bastard get over here”. I went over to him and he gave me that stare and that half smile and said “good”and patted me on the shoulder. You have no idea how that me me feel. It just felt great to be recognized. The next day we had practice and I couldn’t wait. Damn I was really good and getting praise and recognition. The following Saturday we played our rival, Neptune High School. I was stoked but I didn’t start. Then came my chance. Coach called my name and sent me in to play right defensive tackle. Neptune seemed to have sent their entire team running at me. I didn’t give an inch. One by one I man handled the pack of blockers until I got to the runner and hit him with my head and shoulder with all I had. It sounded like a car wreck to me. When they pulled me off the runner he was broken. He couldn’t even get up. When I returned to the sidelines coach just stood there shaking his head grinning ear to ear. The balance of the season was going well. Coach and I were getting pretty close. He had become a true father figure to me. I sought his approval at all times. When the season was over I fell back into my old ways. Trouble became my middle name. I continued my smoking, drinking, and hell raising. Having the reputation for being a good ball player swelled my ego a bit. I must have been terrible to be around.
It seemed that I had special status on campus. Nothing seemed important other than my eligibility for the next year. I was a real schmuck. I fiercely pushed the envelope with reckless abandon.
One day in English class we were given an assignment to write a book report. My book was Captains Courageous. The unfortunate thing about it was I could barely read. To this day I am a very slow reader and I have a terrible time retaining what I have read. There I was, dummy of the year. I tried to read the book but I only managed a few pages. I had no idea what the story was about so I decided to bluff my way through by creating a story of my own. I started to write from my imagination. Three or four words per line very neatly. Finally I finished a presentable looking report. It looked neat and I thought it might work. It had a lot of pages. Who knows. I felt very intellectual at the moment of completion. I walked to the front of the class and presented Mr. Bohler with my work of art. This was my very first book report.
The next day we were in English and to my surprise Mr Bohler had all the reports graded. He started to walk back and forth handing out the reports. He approached my desk and handed my report to me while smirking behind his pasty blackhead riddled skin. His longish crew cut standing at attention. I looked at the grade with disbelief. A fucking D- after all that hard work. I looked him straight in the eye and said YOU SON OF A BITCH. That was it, I was thrown out of class and sent to the assistant principal’s office. Rather than call my home the asst. principal called Coach Bruno. This was an eligibility thing for sure. I was sent to an empty room to wait things out. After a while I saw through the door’s window Coach and Bohler enter the assistants office. I overheard some very loud voices and and a book slam on a desk. Then things quieted down. I watched as coach left the room.
Now it was common knowledge that while in off season Coach Bruno would always hang out at the Elks Club after school having a few drinks and playing cards. Sometimes he would walk while smoking a cigar and sometimes he would drive his old Cadillac. On this beautiful day he had decided to walk. I found myself heading in the same direction on other side of the street. Oh crap, I hope he doesn’t see me. The spell was broken I heard from the distance “hey Rodey (that was Coach’s name for me) come over here.” My heart was beating hard. I really didn’t want to face him like this after disappointing him so much. I walked slowly across the street and said hello Coach. He took a drag on his cigar and firmed up his stance, flicked off an ash and told me that everything was taken care of and not to worry about anything. Then he gave m that endearing look and said “there is only one thing I want to know. Why did you ever call the MOTHERFUCKER A SON OF A BITCH?”. Coach gave me a slight punch to the chest, turned and headed off to the Elks club. I was speechless.
