NEW CONCORD, Ohio — It had been nearly a half century since I last walked onto a John Glenn High School football field.
More than years have passed since that team posted a 10-0 record and then played in the 1978 Class AA state semifinals.
College. Career. Marriage. Children. Grandchildren. Joys. Sorrows. Births. Deaths.
All of those life moments flickered across my mind Friday night when aging members of that Little Muskie football team were inducted into the high school’s athletic Hall of Fame on Sept. 13.
For a moment, I recalled the football.
Understand, we were expected to be great by the time we reached high school and went undefeated during our freshman season, winning seven games by a combined score of 201-6.
The residents of New Concord expected us to produce at the varsity level.
We did.
It was production born inside a small, cramped weight room where we spent winters and springs developing strength — and a communal bond that will never be broken.
It was production that began during the searing heat and sweat of two-a-day practices in multiple Augusts on a cow pasture of a field that was hard as brick, and a steep hill we were forced to run a lung-searing number of times at the end of each session.
That production was borne out our senior year when we defeated 10 opponents by a combined score of 330-40.
As those of us who could attend the Hall of Fame induction walked onto the field before this year’s team played Coshocton, I looked around at the men who forged a teenage band of brothers that flattened foes, shattered records and made history.
I wished more could have been there with us that night. I was an average player on a team with great players.
Most of us have added a few pounds. Lost a lot of hair. Move a bit slower.
I thought of former teammates who couldn’t attend that night, some of whom, sadly, have moved on from this life.
And I thought to myself — well done, guys.
Well done, not for football success.
Well done, not for Friday Night Lights glory.
Well done, not for an undefeated season almost no one sitting in the stands last week will ever remember.
No, our success came after the stadium lights were shut off when that season ended with a 7-0 loss to Hamilton Badin at Dayton’s Welcome Stadium in a state semifinal clash.
Our greatest success came after we took off helmets and shoulder pads and cleats for the last time.
As I stood there at the team’s Hall of Fame induction and looked around, I didn’t think about football glory for more than a moment.
I thought of my 46 teammates, almost half of them seniors, men who played football together since junior high.
None of them became college football stars at the highest level. Damn few ever played football again after high school.
But our true glory days were just beginning.
The guys who made that season so memorable in the autumn of 1978 achieved their greatest success far beyond the high school football field.
You want real production?
Our little high school team produced doctors, engineers, teachers, school principals, school superintendents, farmers, truck drivers, salesmen, software developers, a journalist — and many more professions than we ever could have imagined.
Our team produced husbands, fathers, grandfathers and great-grandfathers.
It produced community leaders.
It produced men I remain proud today to call my friends.
That’s when football is at its best, you see.
The game teaches so many lessons that impact players’ lives. Sometimes you learn them by osmosis.
Teamwork, because no individual will succeed without the work of 10 others on the field with him.
Respect, because no individual is more valuable than the team.
Humility, because failure is as much a part of football as success.
Sacrifice, because there is no way to play football if you are not willing to surrender time, blood, sweat and tears.
Love, because when you look across the huddle during a game, you know the man looking back at you would do anything for you — and you would do anything for him.
Those lessons carry us through life. Those lessons are the true residual benefits of high school football … of Friday Night Lights.
Those lessons lead to lifetime production.
And they are not singular lessons only available to teams that post perfect seasons.
As a journalist, I covered my first high school football game in 1979 while a freshman at Ohio University. I have covered state championship teams. I have covered league champions teams.
And I have covered 0-10 teams.
The aforementioned lessons apply to all of those teams. All of those players.
I see it still in the eyes of the players I see around Richland County this year. I will see it tonight when I cover the Clear Fork at Ontario game.
The players may not realize it yet. They may not understand it until years after they graduate. I surely did not.
But the game of football is helping them lay the foundation that will always be there for them.
No perfect season is needed for that.
No Hall of Fame is needed for that.
Just football.
