Broad Shoulders!

             I don't understand the depth of Albert's learning disabilities. I know he has problems. The good Lord has humbled me enough in the past that I don't dare judge anyone on what he may say or comprehend or how he acts. I have stuck my foot in my mouth enough to fill a large moving van. I don't understand sometimes the obvious. And you would marvel at the incredibly foolish deeds that I have knowingly, willingly and joyously participated in. Let me tell you, I ain't close to being the sharpest cookie in the box my ownself!

           Sometimes my problem is I think I know, but I don't really know!

           I met Albert through football. We're going out to play Blountstown a few years back and I hear "Coach, coach!" Most of the time I don't even look up. I've got the upcoming game on my mind, "Coach, coach!" I'm trying to remember if I've explained to Sidney if they run that buck sweep and the guard pulls, he's got to look for that tackle blocking down, "Coach, COACH!"

           I stop and turn around. There's Albert. Fourteen years old. Maybe fifteen. He's got that neat flattop haircut. He's wearing a tee shirt that is besmeared with our team colors. And he's got his right hand, in a fist, raised high in the air, "Coach, coach."

           I closed my hand, made a little fist and stuck up my arm as I ran onto the field. He lit up like I'd just handed him ten million dollars. It doesn't take much to please special people.

           I don't remember if we won the game or not. Here's what I do remember. A week later we're taking the field in Freeport. As I run though the gate I hear a familiar voice, "Coach, coach!" I turn and raise a closed fist in the air. Albert shouts with joy. Man, I think, we could use a hundred fans like little Albert! It was half time and we were collecting ourselves down behind the goal post when I thought, "How did Albert get to this game?"

           It got to be a ritual. If I didn't hear him right off, I'd look for him. And along the way Albert wouldn't settle for just a raised fist. He'd come running to where I was making my way onto the field. He'd stick out a hand and we'd bump fist and he'd give me his best "coach" greeting. If we were already on the field he'd lean over the fence with his arm out stretched and wait expectantly until I trotted over and "bumped" with him.

           In parts of five decades of coaching high school football I'd never done that. I was aware of the people and the noise and the commotion. But I really didn't notice them. I was pretty geared in on the contest that was in front of me. The team and the kids were pretty important to me. Albert didn't worry about my coaching years. Or my random thoughts. Or even my responsibilities on any given Friday night. He was a bigger fan of this football team than I was. And he was pulling harder for Sidney to beat the down block of the offensive tackle than I was.

           Albert earned his right to be "in the game" with us. No one cheered us on any harder. No one lived and died with us more each week. No one celebrated the wins or shed tears in defeat like Albert. If only the rest of us had his passion for life...

           After the state championship game in 2005 the team invited Albert to climb upon the winner's stand with'em, and collect his medal. I not only thought it was right, it was most fitting. He had won a state championship! He had been a part of us. He found a "cause" and he jumped in with both feet. I defy you to find fault with that! He will always be a state champion in my mind.

           Albert is working just as hard to support us this year as ever. I see him at practice, at the games and when I run into him around town, he will holler "coach, coach" from two blocks away. It never fails to make my day.

           But none of this is why I'm relating this narrative to you today. You follow the rest of this story closely. We lost last week. Well, you know how the naysayer's jump in immediately. "The coach didn't call the right plays." "What's wrong with the kids?" "The lights went out and messed us up." "We were playing a bigger school." The finger pointing and accusations fly. NOBODY wants to step up and take responsibility for his, or her, actions. It is always "somebody else's" fault. And I am not talking solely about a football game here.

           I have heard all of my life how football mirrors life. I think that is especially true when folks start placing the blame. It is amazing how quick we are to point out the other fellow's shortcomings. It's not a problem confined to the local high school. Or to your little corner of the universe. Or to our largest cities. Or to our national government. Or to the world wide community. No one today seems willing to step up and accept responsibility for their actions, or the consequences of the same.

           It has become an epidemic in our world.

           I ran into Albert in the gym on Tuesday after our loss on Friday night. He was still down. "I don't know what happened coach."

           "I don't know either, Albert. I reckon I just didn't coach hard enough."

           "Oh no, coach, it wasn't you! I didn't cheer hard enough."

           I told you this young man is special!

                  Respectfully,

                  Coach Kes