Functional Path Training

The Seeds of Culture

Clay Erro is the former football coach at Enterprise High School in Redding, California and one of the winningest football coaches in Northern Californian history. More important than his success was his ability to teach young men to be responsible adults and citizens. His approach was unconventional with a premium on relationships and teaching. Relationships are not built upon rules. A successful relationship is built on trust and expectations and communication, not rules. Instead of rules, the his teams had simple self-explanatory guidelines:

• We not me
• No excuses
• No messengers
• No sympathy groups

Starting with a few simple guidelines as the seed, the team culture grew from there.

Core values define team culture. Developing core values is a process. It is a process that ideally is driven by the athletes and guided by the coach. This process will ensure ownership. If the culture is established, then it becomes a process of initiation into the core values. Core values are not rules, they are principles that guide, not regulate behavior. They are more than words written on the locker room wall. They are words that are translated into action every day in training. The coach’s role is to ensure that the core values are real and lived by everyone associated with the team. It has been my experience that they transcend sport, better people are better athletes.

My Journey The Bulldog Years (Fresno State 1964 to 1968)

My Journey

The Bulldog Years (Fresno State 1964 to 1968)

This is a story of my college education, a great majority of which occurred outside the classroom on the football field and working in the ag unit doing manual labor. Let's start with where it all began. I had this goal starting as a five-foot tall, 105-pound ninth grader, that I wanted to play college football. My brother had been a very gifted athlete, played junior college football, and walked away from a full scholarship at Cal Poly. He was a great athlete and great football player but didn't have the drive and determination. Things came easy for him. There's a lot of things at age 76 I can look back on now and try to analyze. Maybe I did it to get my brother's attention who was my hero. But it was clear to me that is what I wanted to do, and I would do everything in my power to make it happen.

I was 13 years old as a ninth grader. When I started ninth grade, I was 5’2” tall and 105 pounds. I had my appendix out on Halloween in my freshman year and I started growing. I grew that year to five feet nine inches tall and 145 pounds. Sophomore year I went out for J.V. football. I was an offensive center, nothing spectacular. Nobody would say that guy's going to be a college football player. I spent all my free time athletically playing basketball. I'd go home from school and play basketball until it was dark. And sometimes there was a streetlight behind the basket and played in the dark imitating Jerry West's jump shot.

Now junior year comes. I made varsity as a second-string center. I 165 now. But I just wasn't very good. We had one coach for the whole team. He was laconic, certainly not much of a teacher or a motivator. I guess he did the best he could do coaching all positions by himself. The week before the last game, the starting center and the starting tackle decided to go off to find some adventure in the flesh plots of Las Vegas. That gave me the opportunity to start, and I had an outstanding game, against Santa Ynez high school. We won, which was rare for my high school team. There was a glimmer of hope, I showed I could rise to the occasion and be a contributing player. Then I went right out for basketball. I made the varsity. Through January I played minimal minutes. I struggled with the discipline necessary to play a team game after playing rough house basketball on the playground. We had a six-foot five center that I played behind. I was now up to about 5’10”. I loved basketball, but I was undisciplined.

Well, anyway, there was a party at Christmas break where there was drinking, and the starting center and two other players were kicked off the team. So, I got to start in January. I started every game the rest of the year. I did okay, except that I fouled out of every game I played in. I did well enough to be named Most Improved Player. My goal now more than ever was to play college football. The turning point came that spring when a player from the Dallas Cowboys came and talked to us about weight training. He gave us some basics and one of my teammates and I started lifting weights in my garage. We got a York weight set. My brother built a leg press for us. I tried to organize the other players in workouts because I felt if the team got better, I would get better. I wanted to be good. I wanted the team to be good. I got up to 175 pounds. I played OK, certainly nothing that would put on anyone’s radar as a college player. I played both ways as an offensive center and middle linebacker. Nobody would have given me a snowball's chance in hell to play college football. But I was driven in pursuit of my goal. I was going to find a way.

I had a good senior basketball season. I hurt my ankle with four games to go, and could not play, which was disappointing because we had a good, fun team and it hurt the team. So, move on, fast forward track season starts. I knew I had to get faster and more explosive, so I sprinted and put the shot. I started applying for schools. My brother went to Coalinga Junior College, and he said, Fresno State has a really good program. In 1962, they played in the Mercy Bowl in the LA Coliseum, a fundraiser for the victims of the Cal Poly crash that John Madden always talked about. They had 60,000 people in the Coliseum. I watched some of that game. It was cool. So, I applied there. I worked my butt off and got up to 196 pounds. I got in contact with the football coaches at Fresno State, and they said, yeah, you can come out for freshman football. I didn't know this, but freshman football there was an afterthought. They got all their players from junior colleges, virtually no one from the freshmen team advanced to varsity, in fact they did not recruit freshmen.  

We didn't start even practicing until the week when school started, which was mid-September. I improved as a player. I certainly benefited from the fact there were only 25 players. Ken Gleason was the head coach, a very nice positive man who encouraged me. Our line coach was named John Zentner, who was ineligible on the varsity. He was made line coach so they could continue to give him his scholarship. He was the first actual line coach that I ever had.  He helped me. He gave me some attention, taught me blocking techniques I had no clue about. I was captain of the team, played center and defensive tackle. I played every play, 60 minutes a game. We were beyond awful as a team. We scored one touchdown in four games. It was an experience that I took advantage of though. There was now light at the end of the tunnel.

I really made my mark on Mondays or Tuesdays when we'd scrimmage the varsity. During one of these scrimmages the starting middle linebacker Ed Kaiser, who was all conference the previous year was playing over me and taunting me. He goes, come on, rookie, come on kid, you can't touch me. It made me angry that he didn't respect me, and I pancaked him. The place went nuts, varsity guys, everybody was clapping and slapping me on the back.  It got the varsity coach's attention. So that was kind of funny how you use something like that. You make your mark. I got invited to go to spring practice. In those days we practiced three nights a week with a scrimmage on Saturday morning for six weeks culminating in a spring Alumni game. No guarantees, nothing. The goal there was to make the varsity and hopefully get a little scholarship. 

I was overwhelmed, I wasn't very good. There were all these 24 to 26-year-old JC transfers who had been in the military and here I was an 18 year who hardly shaved. I was out of my league at linebacker, so ended up just playing center. I made the team. I got $50 a semester scholarship and so I was happy. The coach wanted us all to gain weight. When I went home during the summer and worked fanatically. I would eat enormous quantities of food. I would have a hamburger steak and four eggs for breakfast, a giant lunch of four sandwiches and a quart of milk, mid-afternoon snack of two hot dogs and a milkshake, go lift weights or workout and then and then eat dinner & giant snack before bed. I got up to 220. The problem was I lost speed and quickness and I couldn't hold the weight with my frame. I started out the season as a third string center, and I ended up a second-string center. As a second-string center, you got to work against the first team defense. A lot of times I just got the crap kicked out of me, but I improved. The goal that year, believe it or not, was to make the traveling squad for the final game at Thanksgiving against University of Hawaii in Honolulu. I made it to Hawaii. I had  gotten to play in one game against Washburn University, Ichabod’s from Topeka, Kansas. We beat him 56 to nothing, so I got to play a little bit in the second half.

Spring practice of my sophomore year comes. Phil Kruger, who was our head coach, left to go to USC to be John Mckay's assistant. I was disappointed, I liked him, he liked me, it was obvious he knew the game.  He'd get in arguments with the line coach who was an institution out on the field. In those days, you couldn't bring your own coaches in, so you inherited coaches. I found out later that coach Kruger was one of the so-called greatest generation, that he had landed at Normandy on D Day. He was a tough guy. What I liked about him is when he said something to you, he followed up on what he said. Unlike the alcoholic, redneck line coach. To replace coach Kruger, they brought in an alumnus of Fresno State, Darrell Rodgers. He was tight with the line coach who hated me and whom I intensely disliked. He had coached at Fresno City College when we were freshmen and we used to scrimmage them. His image of me was the player that he saw then. My first spring training, he guested as our linebacker coach and basically told me that I was wasting my time and that I couldn’t play. Part of my motivation was to prove him wrong. So now he's the head coach and there in spring practice of my sophomore year. I stayed at the second string center. It was not a pleasant experience. He was the opposite of coach Kreuger. He wanted to be like Alabama was at the time and he thought he was Bear Bryant. He wanted everybody quick and fast. That was better for me physically. Now I could stay around 205. That fall I got to play one game that year against Montana State. We lost 56 to nothing. Their quarterback was Dennis Erickson who went onto fame as the coach at University of Miami, the kicker was Jan Stenerud who is in NFL hall of fame. I got to play in the second half on a kickoff receiving team and a little bit on offense. It was a disappointing year. I went to work and did everything I could to get faster and stronger and learn the nuances of the game and my position.  I read a Run to Daylight by Vince Lombardi. I practically memorized it. The book gave the insights I needed into the game, especially offensive line play. One of the things he said is players, need to know everybody else's assignment. So, I did that. We ran an unbalanced line, and I figured out right away that at my size, with my quickness and speed that was pretty good and getting better because I was training with the track guys. The training with the high jumpers got me more explosive so I figured I would be better off playing guard than center.

I went into talk to Rogers, and he goes, what do you want? I said, coach, I want to change positions. I gave him my reasoning. Not that he really cared. I said, I think if I play five man or seven-man, six man was a center I will be more effective. His answer was, yes, okay, you do whatever you want. It really doesn't matter. Well, it did matter. I took that personally, he still did not think I could play. I went into spring practice on a mission to prove him wrong. We had a new line coach, coach Murray, who called me by my name. He didn't call me you pussy or something like that. He made me better, he coached me. He taught me techniques that made me a better player. I would run a play and then the next guard would come in and he would tell me what to correct. I ended up winning a starting position of alternating between both guard positions and graded out as the top offensive lineman on the team, which really pissed off Rogers and the redneck line coach who was basically the assistant head coach. I got a scholarship for $350 a semester.

In the spring game, on the last play I went down field to throw a block on a defensive back and hit the side of my head on his leg. It was a block that I had executed hundreds of times. This time I got a stinger to beat all stingers. My arm went dead, and I could not feel my hand. Fortunately, they took me out of the game. I didn't say anything to anybody. Feeling did not come back to my hand for about three days, and I had bad headaches, which probably was also a concussion. Subsequently I had atrophy in that arm. I worked my butt off in the off season to get it right. I was scared shitless that this would show up and compromise my starting position and my scholarship. Midway through lApril, we were just doing some wrestling and I got thrown down on my head again and the stinger got worse. Again, I didn't say anything. I went home, worked diligently, now I was 195 instead of 205. When we started fall practice the first week in September it was quickly obvious that they didn’t want me to start. They shifted all the other linemen into my position, but they couldn't beat me out. All the while I was trying to protect my neck. Anyway, the night before the first game, when we're going to play Santa Clara, which is a big game for me because a couple of kids from Santa Barbara that I played elementary school with were on that team and they'd gone to Santa Barbara High, and I wanted to show them that I was a good player.

We were doing this drill where we would get off against bags with the defensive tackles holding the bag.  The defensive tackle swung the bag and hit me on the side of my head and my arm went dead. I thought to myself, oh shit. I didn't say anything to the trainer or the line coach, I wanted to start the game. I was terrible. The defensive tackle from Santa Clara just barely tapped my head and my arm went dead again, and they took me out before the end of the first half and that was it. I was awful. Monday, we went in for film session and practice. The head coach who never wanted me to start and redneck assistant coach, just reveled in the fact I played terrible. They ran film of the plays where I screwed up over and over. What would you expect from them? I remember the coach Murray coming up to me afterwards and offering words of encouragement. I went through practice, and it was tough. Mentally I was whipped and physically I was hurting. I went home that night, didn't sleep. I just said, I'm done. I can't do this. It's not fun. The pain was just excruciating. I walked into the coach’s office the next day at 2:00. All the coaches were there, including a reporter for the Fresno Bee. I said, I wanted to let you know that I'm turning in my uniform, I'm quitting. I didn't say why. And the last word I heard from the redneck line coach was, you're just a fpussy. Well, whatever. So anyway, that was my football career.

As time went on, the longer I played college football, I began to hate it. It's a brutal sport. Except for coach Murray who treated me like a human being, that wasn't a consideration. I took two weeks go through a bit of depression and feel sorry for myself and figure out what I was going to do. I knew I wanted to graduate that spring. In those days you had the draft facing if you lost your student deferment. I knew I wanted to teach and coach. I doubled down on academics, went to my advisor, and added a class. I had the afternoons off, a friend of mine, Bob Washburn, was working in the ag unit and he said there was a  job available for twenty hours a week at $1.50 an hour. I still got my football scholarship that fall, so with that and the money I made working in the Ag unit I was in the chips. Every month when I walked down the sidewalk to the Bulldog Foundation to get my scholarship check I always had a big smile because I've got the last word here. I'm still picking up my check. Anyway, by the way, the guy who took my place ended up on the All-Coast team. After that my friends used to call me all coast almost.

I got a job in the Ag unit. I had worked on my uncle's ranch during the summer, but it wasn't 103 degrees like it was in Fresno in September. The first day I get there and it's Bob, and guy from Iraq and a Trinidadian guy, all students. There was Mexican guy Raul, who was the foreman. He was great although he tested me the first day on the job. He goes, you get up on the top. They put me at the top of the barn, and those three guys were feeding me hay bales.  They were trying to break me. I wasn't ready. I had on a short sleeve shirt, and you wear leather chaps to protect your legs, which makes you even hotter. I refused to let them break me. After work that first day I fell asleep on the living room floor at out apartment and did not wake up until the next morning. I passed the test!  I worked there all fall semester. Got to know Raul well. He was illegal. We just had a lot of great talks with my pidgin Spanish learned in the neighborhood I grew up in. I got to do a lot of different stuff. I got $350 that semester divided into X number of checks at a $1.50 an hour. I had a car that I got for $90 in an auction.

I knew I was and I graduating but I kept training with the track guys. I loved the track guys. I loved the individual nature attack. I couldn't go out for track. I just I was too far behind. I decided I wanted to be a track coach. I got accepted to go to a fifth-year postgraduate year at UCSB to get my teaching credential. I was excited about that. I could go back to Santa Barbara. My father was the head groundskeeper at Santa Barbara High. He was really well-respected, and the former principal from Santa Barbara High, Doug White was the school district personnel director, I had an interview with him and he says, you know, if you student teach here, we'll do everything we can to find a job for you. I can't promise anything. That was cool.

The last part of the bulldog story occurred during spring break my senior year which was last week of March. My brother, who was a department head for Santa Barbara County got me a job with the county parks department. The first Monday of break I reported at 7:00am to Goleta Beach. I shake the guy's hands and introduce myself. They know my brother got me the job, so they were going to test me. The first thing we do is go have coffee and I go, oh, this is easy. Then we get done with coffee and they give me a little hand clipper and they say, see that fence line there? It's about a quarter mile long. Okay. We want you to clip all the grass on that. Make sure you get it done before noon. No gloves. This is another test like Raul putting me at the top of the barn. I had giant blisters on both hands, and I refused to let them beat me and I did it. So, I passed the test. My nickname for that that summer and the following summer was Ph.D. because I'd gone to college.

So those were the bulldog years. It was a time of hard lessons. It was a time of learning. A certain amount of bitterness. I let that bitterness color a lot of what I did after that for too many years. Now I can look back through the prism of time. Coach Murray was the line coach. I wish I could thank him. The lesson that I learned from that whole football experience was that coaching makes a difference. He helped me to become a better player by teaching me, the intricacies of my position and the relationship to what happened in the offense. Fresno 1964 to 68 was an interesting time. Times were changing. 1968, there was a time of ferment even in conservative Fresno. There was a lot  of racial bias in the valley against blacks and Mexicans. Cesar Chavez, United Farm Worker movement brought it all out in the open.

My senior year I got to hear Bobby Kennedy talk on campus. I went to the talk with the feeling that he's riding his brother's coattails. It was amazing. He was inspiring. Over 16,000 people were there in the outdoor amphitheater that holds 8000 people. Same thing happened not too much later that spring with Cesar Chavez. It awakened my awareness. 

I'm forever thankful for that. And I got a good education and life goes on. Those were the Bulldog years. 

Just Thinking

Here are a few thoughts on some things I have been thinking about.

Time – What are you dong with your time? Are using it or abusing it. There 144 minutes in a day, what are you doing with those minutes. How many minutes devoted to getting better?

It’s Hard – What you do when the going gets difficult is a difference maker, you can overcome or give in. We do an exercise called rope pulll, the goal is to touch the top bar at the end of four pulls. It is easier to come short and call it hard. Our world record holder touches the bar every rep – sure its hard, but the reward is worth it.

X’s and O’s and technical aspects are important but only if it related to whom you are coaching. Coach the Person!

Potential is just that – potential. It what you do with the penitential that counts.

Coming Home to Roost – Injuries

Injuries at all levels of sport are off the charts. Despite much hand wringing, bloviating, and elaborate injury prevention programs injures continue to rise. In the actual sport training, we are so concerned with “load management” that we not stressing the athletes enough to prepare them for the rigors of the competition. In short, we are reaping what we sow – we have a generation of fragile athletes unprepared for the demands of competition.

Look at time spent training for the specific sport. Look at time devoted to so called “injury prevention.’ Look at time devoted to recovery – ice baths, massage etc. Then compare those time allotments with the time devoted to actual physical training in preparation for the sport. In most cases it is not even close.

Go back into the athlete’s background. Many specialized early. Few in any had physical education therefore have a poor foundation of physical literacy and competence. Coaching at the foundational level that used to be done by school coaches trained in sound pedagogy is now done by parents and travel team coaches who have no foundation in sound coaching.

At the collegiate and professional the increased specialization and compartmentalization of the coaching and support staff has been a major contributing factor. You have strength coaches, speed coaches, rehab specialists, injury prevention specialists, flexibility coaches and recovery specialists. All of those who come under the umbrella of sports medicine usually lead by a doctor who has no understanding of training. At the professional level you have too many of these individuals pointing fingers to keep their jobs instead of doing their job. All are in silos with no communication, all working independently of the sport coaches who have little or no understanding of the physical preparation piece all these people are working on.

Add to this extended competitive season with the pervasive myth that all you can do in season is maintenance work and here we are. It all has all come to roost, it is not the pandemic, this has been years in the making. It is going to take some serious recognition of the problems, asking, and answering difficult questions to reverse this alarming trend. Ladies and gentlemen, the chickens have come home to roost

Reflection and Thank You

In the coaching profession it is said that the measure of a coach is the ability to have their athlete or team ready on the day. I can’t say enough about the job coach Brent Arckey did getting Emma Wyant ready for the 400 IM at Olympic Trials. Not only did she win but also swam a lifetime best – that is being ready on the day! I am thankful to Brent to having me work with Emma and being able to make my small contribution. As an old guy I could not help but reflect on how fortunate I have been able to work with coaches like Brent and athletes like Emma throughout my career. A special thanks to Emma for bring so much joy to this old man, you are special and will go far in life.

After the race I was thinking about Nort Thornton, who passed away this spring and how much he would have enjoyed Emma’s race. Nort had a huge influence on what I do with swimming dry land and my ideas about training in general. I miss our phone conversations. I am sure Jack Simon was watching from his retirement home in México, but Jack was the one who got me interested in swimming close to fifty years ago.

Another great coach that I was thinking about was as I watched USC perform at the NCAA track meet was the late Tony Wells. USC’s performance had Tony Wells written all over it. Carol Smith Gilbert was coached by Tony and mentored by him. What a tribute to a great man and coach. I sure miss picking Tony’s brain about sprints and hurdles. We had some great times teaching at development camps in the 1980’s.

Coaching is special. It has never been a job for me. I just am so thankful to be able to still keep at it. ONWARD AND UPWARD!

Just Thinking – Some Random Thoughts on Training and Life

The higher you progress in sport the faster everything happens. When they talk about the speed of the game it is true. You have significantly less time to make decisions and act of react.

Forget barriers, they are artificial, mental contracts that hold you back. Instead think of frontiers to conquer. Keep pushing into the unknown, unexplored territory.

Stay essential - Focus on what will make you better. Getting tired is not training.

In sprinting forget segmenting the sprint stride into front side and back side instead focus on the reciprocal cyclic scissor action of both legs. Can’t separate front side and back side.

“Attitude is a choice” Ron Adams Assistant Coach, Golden State Warriors

Don’t think less of yourself, think of yourself less.

Don’t let school interfere with your education.

Unlearning may be just as important as learning

“The note next to the one you think is bad corrects the one in front.” Miles Davis

Also write your training plan in pencil.

Good Enough?

Good enough is never good enough! That seems harsh and leaves no room for nuance but watching people in my 52 years of coaching has convinced me that accepting good enough is a clear path to mediocrity. Too often good enough means going through the motions with no focus and minimal effort. It is being physically present without being there. I set a standard of expectations for myself and the athletes and coaches that I work with. It is an expectation that we expect perfect effort every session. Nothing less. It takes no talent, just focus and directed work to achieve or exceed your potential. As a coach I will not accept good enough. To be the best you can be is uncomfortable. It demands being comfortable with being uncomfortable all the time. There will be failure, but those perceived failures by others are learning opportunities for you. Take advantage, take risks never be satisfied with good enough. A quote from educator John Gardner is particularly appropriate: “Much education (coaching – my emphasis) is monumentally ineffective. All too often we are giving people cut flowers when we should be teaching them how to grow plants.” Let’s challenge ourselves and the athletes we work with to raise the level of expectation.

Brave Enough by Jesse Diggins

I have always been an an avid reader of coaches and athletes’ biographies. Each biography gave me insights into what that athlete tick. How they approached training. How they got into their sport. How they were coached. There is so much to learn  from the experiences of others on the journey to achieve the pinnacle of sport performance. Brave Enough by Jesse Diggins in one of the best I have read in a long time. Her candor is refreshing. She shares her battle with bulimia which makes the book invaluable in itself. Great insights into training and team dynamics with female athletes. Regardless of what sport you coach this is a must read.

Days of Iron Men & Wooden Ships?

I played college football in the mid 1960’s at Fresno State College. My goal from the time I was 12 years old was to play college football. It was a long shot as I did not even start on my high school team until I was a senior. I was ​a​late developer having started high school at 13.5 years old, so in essence I was always a year behind my class. I made it; I was Captain of the freshman team. We were terrible with only 23 players, so I played 58 minutes a game at offensive center and defensive tackle. I was about 190 pounds. Spring practice 1965 I made the varsity and earned a $50 dollar a semester scholarship. I bulked up to 220 pounds. I was the third string center starting in the fall. My goal was to make the traveling squad to play University of Hawaii the last game of the year over thanksgiving break. I made it, got to go to Hawaii and fly in a plane for the first time. I was the youngest on the team. Many of the other players were in their mid-twenties and had been in the service and played two years of JC ball. They rented cars and went out drinking while I went for walks on the beach.  

After the season our coach resigned to take a job as an assistant at USC, so we had a new Coach Daryl Rogers, a Fresno State grad who was a complete asshole. He was a Bear Bryant wannabe. He wanted everybody to lose weight and be fast, here I had spent two years trying to bulk up now I had to lose weight. We had no organized off season program. I lifted with the track guys and started on a journey that continues today of learning about conditioning, speed development and strength training. At one point the head coach tried to discourage me from lifting weight because I would get tight and slow. I was an overwhelming 193 getting my ass kicked every day. I was second string center that year and did not play a minute in a game. I forgot to mention that in my sophomore year I got to play in one game for four minutes in a 56 – 0 route of Washburn University.

After the 1966 season I figured out, given the offense ​we ​were running, that if I ever wanted to play, I would have to change positions. So, I went to the head coach and asked to switch to guard. At guard there was a lot of trapping and pulling so my size would not be a disadvantage and my speed had also begun to develop so I could use that as an asset. In spring practice, much to the surprise of all the coaches except for the new offensive line who actually coached me to be better by teaching me my position. There was no screaming at me and calling me a pussy, I graded out as the top offensive lineman. I earned a $350 semester scholarship and a starting position at guard. Unfortunately, on the last pay of the spring game I threw a block downfield and hit my head on the knee of a defensive back and got a severe stinger. It had happened before, but never like this. I lost feeling in my hand for three-days and could not sleep for a week. The rest of the spring and summer I worked on it. I religiously did neck exercises. When we started fall practice, two practices a day in 100 plus heat I held my starting position, but I knew I was not 100%. The day before our first game against Santa Clara, someone swung a blocking bag and hit me in the side of the head and my arm went numb. I didn’t say anything, I started the game and played awful. I was taken out at halftime. We lost the game. I went to practice on Monday, had a terrible practice after being ripped in the film session and being demoted to second string. The next day I went into a coach’s meeting and quit. That was the end of my football career. I would be lying if I said I did not look back. I made up my mind I would have nothing to do with football in any way shape or form, although I did reluctantly coach on​e​ season of junior high school football, not an especially enjoyable experience.

Looking back here are some things that I learned. Football is ​a​brutal violent sport that is not fun in any way shape or form. I learned about racism firsthand. The black players were treated very differently. They lived in a different part of town. Our line coach Bob Burgess was an alcoholic redneck racist and he did nothing to hide it. The N word was an integral part of his vocabulary. If you were injured, you got shots and played. Our team doctors nickname was needles Knutsen, he would shoot you up anywhere anytime including in the locker room at halftime. You were encouraged to take mickey classes to stay eligible. I was yelled at one day when after almost three hours of practice I asked to leave practice because I had a midterm in a night class. The coach asked me if there to get an education or play football. I answered to get an education. I was labeled an intellectual after that (also because I read my assignments before practice while waiting an hour every day to be taped). I was labeled soft and a pussy because I would not do the stupid illegal stuff the redneck line coach taught us. Then and there is where I formulated my philosophy of metal toughness. To me it was being mentally strong and being able to perform under pressure, not screaming and yelling and frothing at the mouth. Football is, at least the way we were taught, was not a game that formed friendships and camaraderie. It was brutal competition every day. We wore full pads every day and hit live every day. In preseason practice my junior year we actually had three practices a day in pads. The morning practice was 93 degrees and the other two practices were 100 degrees plus. We had one water break ​each practice. Looking back, it was a miracle that no one died of heat stroke. Concussions – that is another story. Looking back, there were at least three practices I cannot remember. Everyone just laughed, ah you got you​r​ bell rung. No such a thing as helmet fit. I learned that good coaching can make a difference. The new line coach who came in was a teacher, he related to me as a human being. What a breath of fresh air. He called me by name instead of you pussy. He was also the tennis coach. Next year he won the only NCAA championship Fresno State has ever won.

So, it was a time of iron men and wooden ships. It was macho to be cruel, racist and misogynistic – that was and is the culture of the game. I am hoping that a benefit of Covid 19 pandemic is that there will be a pause button on football at all levels and there will be a total reexamination of the sport and its surrounding culture. I realize I am writing through the lens of my personal experience but hopefully it will stimulate some thought and discussion. The days of iron men and wooden ships should be a thing of the past.