The last game

I was thinking about the last football game I played in college. We were playing Georgetown University on their home field and we had just lost a close game with Emory & Henry at Wilson Field the week before. I loved playing Georgetown in Georgetown. The idea of playing in DC, with all of the history and excitement of Georgetown and Washington was breathtaking.

Every year we played in DC an alumnus of Washington and Lee arranged for us to stay at the Guest Quarters in Alexandria the night before. It was a cut above from the normal Holiday Inn. We ate a brief breakfast and rode the bus down to the Georgetown campus. Dressing out, I thought of our game with Georgetown two years before. We had scored thirty five points and beat them soundly. We didn't have many of those at Washington and Lee. Based on my experience, I was confident that we could win.

But I was emotionally drained for that game. I had been so fired up to play Emory and Henry the week before. It had been our last game at home. I had worked myself into a lather and really played my best game as a college football player. I sacked the quarterback four times, recovered a fumble, and had numerous tackles. I came upon the quarterback on an option play one time and slammed his helmet into the turf. They hauled him off and took him to the hospital, as I chuckled in the huddle. After the game, I was sobbing in my locker down below the stands. The defensive backfield coach came up to me and hugged my shoulders. He tried to console me and congratulated me on the best game of the year. Unfortunately, we had lost by two points in the fourth quarter. The combination of the last game at home and such a close game where we lost after we had had the lead was hard.

After the game, I went back to our apartment and all of our parents were waiting for us. I couldn't handle the festivities. I was adrenalin sick and emotionally drained. My parents followed me back to my room and helped me into bed. While everyone enjoyed an evening in one of the restaurants in Lexington that evening, I slept off the emotions of the day.

So when it came time to ride up to DC, my emotions had been left on the grass of Wilson Field the week before. As the game began, I could tell that I was down. I was making mental mistakes on defense, going in the wrong directions, going after the wrong back, letting the quarterback go for long runs. By half time, we were losing nineteen to three. Only a last second field goal was a positive mark on the half.

At halftime, Coach O'Connell yelled at me, wondering aloud where my head was. I sat on the bench with eyes wide open, wondering if I could recover. We needed to invest ourselves emotionally into the game. I sat silently on the bench and tried to recharge my batteries.

The second half was different. The offense began to assert itself and the defense rose to the challenge. By the end of the fourth quarter, we were winning 20-19 and were holding Georgetown and forcing them to punt.

With just a few minutes left in the game, Georgetown lined up to punt. Our nose man, Mike Merlick, pummelled the center as he snapped the ball and the football went dribbling back to the punter. The other defensive linemen chased after him as the kicking team released downfield. The punter, a tackle ordinarily by profession, looked around frantically and threw a floating pass toward their tight end. The tight end miraculously caught the ball and the referees signaled a first down as several of us noticed all the other linemen downfield around the tight end. As the head referee set the ball for first down, our coaches were yelling at all of the ineligable receivers downfield. The referees ignored them.

But that was the beginning of a final drive in which Georgetown drove down the field for their final three points and victory. I remember as we lined up for the attempt, telling Jack Norberg that I would pull the outside man inside to give Jack enough room to block the field goal, but it was too little, too late. The ball rose into the air and through the uprights as the final horn blew. We looked around and saw the final score: Georgetown 22 Washington and Lee 20.

As many times as we lost during my career at W&L, that game and the Emory & Henry game were the ones I remember most. I remember walking across the field after the game and little boys from the neighborhood around Georgetown were celebrating us, saying we were better than Maryland. The quarterback for Georgetown came up and congratulated me, saying that we would surely win the next game. I told him flatly that there were no other games. Mom and dad and Susan came down from the stands. My dad was in tears. Mom cheerfully stated that she was glad that I had passed through all those years of football without a serious injury. I was in shock.

Later, we went down into the lockerroom, showered and dressed for the ride back to Lexington. I remember one of the younger guys in tears, promising we would win next year. I stared at him mutely. I couldn't get over the shock. Some of the guys rode home with their parents for the weekend. I said goodbye to my family and rode the bus on back to Lexington. Even the journey through the shops, restaurants and bars of Georgetown didn't hold the same allure as before.

Throwing my gear in the dirty clothes in the lockerroom for the last time, Coach O'Connell asked me how it was to have the last game behind me. I told him that if I could I would continue to play. And I would have.