The following is an excerpt from my sometime-in-2014-to-be-released book, 

FEELING WELL - SURVIVING LIFE AND STUPID PUNS...

HIGH SCHOOL FOOTBALL

By Steve Ludwig

Another pro football season is beginning, and next month I will my attending North Bergen High School's 40-Year Reunion. So what better time is there than right now to put on the ol' literary jockstrap?

I played organized football for only four years in my life --- high school. Didn't play Pop Warner, Pee Wee, Wee Wee, or on any of those other teams.

In the first day of homeroom, freshman year, my friend from grammar school, Rich, asked if I was going to try out for the North Bergen Bruins freshman football team, (affectionately known as the "Baby Bruins").

I hadn't given it much thought, but being he was giving it a go, I figured, why not?

Amazingly, I made the team. (There's a lot more to it than that, and it'll be in my book next year, but for now...)

After all the cuts were made, or guys simply dropped out, North Bergen High School was left with this motley crew as their Frosh representatives:

So, yes, I made the team, but I didn't have a clue as to what was going on!

I had to look around at the way guys were suiting up that first day putting on our equipment. We had these hip pads that you wore, obviously around the hips. There was a longer pad in the back of this hip pad contraption  that protected your tailbone. Only problem was, I thought it went in the front to protect my "family jewels," and I had the stupid thing on backwards. When I noticed how the Pop Warner/Pee Wee/Wee Wee veterans were wearing theirs, I quietly, but quickly, spun it around the right way.

Hey, we're among friends here, right? OK, so speaking of the "family jewels," can you believe I never wore a protective cup in my entire football career? Actually, I should take that back; I did wear a cup once at practice at the beginning of my sophomore year. It really bothered me when I ran (no, I didn't have it on backwards like my hip pads), so I never wore it again. Sue and I don't have any kids, but I assure you it wasn't because I didn't wear a cup!

When I took to the practice field on the first day as a freshman,  wearing full equipment, I felt like I did when my mom used to send me out in the winter with my snow suit on; I could hardly move around. I had to keep fixing and pulling up my thigh pads. I couldn't lift my arms over my head because my shoulder pads felt weird. I was a mess.

It was decided I'd be a running back on offense, and on defense, a safety.

In football terms, the word "key" means to watch how and where guys on the other team moved, so you could get an idea where the play is going. I wish I'd had known that...

As I stood that first time in my safety position at practice, my coach told me to "Watch your keys."

Hmmm...Watch my keys? I thought it was strange that he'd be concerned where my house keys were (in my football locker with my school clothes), but I just figured he was looking out for me.

A few plays later: "Always be aware of your keys."

Now I started to think that maybe last football season there was a rash of stolen keys in the locker room, and the coaches were told to remind us players to be careful of our personal belongings.

When I heard for a third time about my friggin' keys, "You know where your keys are, right?" I decided to just concentrate on trying to figure out where the play on the other side of the ball was going.

Finally, when Coach asked another defensive back about where his keys were, and he replied, "The tight end and fullback," a little light bulb went off in my dull brain. 

I figured out how to unlock the mystery of the "keys."

I played on junior varsity (as well as suiting up for varsity games) during my sophomore and junior years. (My pads and equipment fit much better than they had freshman year, by the way...)

I always considered myself lucky to have been on the squad; there were so many great athletes on my team. Many went on to become stars in college; I was just along for the four-year ride and enjoying it, proud to be one of the "Scarlet and Gold."

And we were pretty damn good students, too. The term "Student/Athlete" absolutely applied to my teammates and me. 

The JV went undefeated my junior year, and I (along with many of the JV guys) played quite a bit in the varsity games, too. I had the privilege of having legendary Mr. Joseph Coviello as my head coach on varsity.

Here I am as a junior (#27) in one of our varsity games (hoping not to fumble the ball):

When senior year rolled around, I somehow managed to be starting on both offense and defense. The local newspaper had a picture of Coach Pizzichillo, Mike, Artie, me, and Jim preparing for our first game:

Our senior year, we were given gold practice jerseys (as in "Scarlet and..."). I wanted #27, but the closest thing was a number 24 jersey. 

As totally silly as this sounds, I just didn't feel comfortable wearing anything but my #27 (even in a practice jersey), so within a couple days, I "accidentally" on purpose tore the jersey in half in the locker room, never to wear #24 again.

I swear to all of you who know me today, I wasn't wearing a wig in this senior football picture of me:

 No, I wasn't wearing a wig, but I did have to wear a knee brace in the final three games of my high school football career. 

Why the knee brace?

Well for that answer, we need to travel to Brick Township, NJ. The first game of the season, senior year.

It ended in a scoreless tie.

Here's a picture of me (that appeared in the Asbury Press Sunday Press) in the first half trying to make a tackle. Don't know if I made it or not!

But in the third quarter, I was involved in a play that, for all intents and purposes, ended my football career. But it's what happened after the play that makes me laugh.

I was on defense, and a play was happening way across the field, on the other side. I wasn't even involved in it; there's no way I could've gotten close to the play to make a difference, so I just kinda watched it unfold. 

A basic rule of football is, never leave yourself unguarded (except if you don't want to wear a cup). Stupid me did just that. I wasn't paying attention to what was going on around me. Suddenly I felt a tremendous pain in my left knee, and it buckled inward from the front, and down I went. A Brick Town player had blocked me out of nowhere. Of course, I'm not going to blame him, I should have been watching out for myself, but the block wasn't necessary because I was so far away from the play. But, it's my fault totally for not being alert.

I was on the ground, writhing and rolling in pain. I mean, it really hurt. 

My teammate and friend, Pete Scarpato, later told my mother as the team exited the bus back in North Bergen, "I thought he was dead!"

But no, I survived. I was helped off the field. I faintly heard the crowd clapping for me.

Remember I mentioned a minute ago that something that happened after the play made me laugh?

As I sat on the bench, with Mr. Ira Wolfe, one of the best trainers in history, tending to me, I felt someone put his hand on my shoulder and ask, "You Ok, Stevie?" 

My dad had worked his way down the stands and to the bench to see how I was.

Before I could say a thing, Mr. Wolfe said, "Hey, Mr. Ludwig, it's nice to meet you!"

"How ya doin', Mr. Wolfe," my dad replied, and they shook hands.

They then proceeded to carry on about a five-minute conversation about how quickly four years go by, and how my father couldn't believe that my high school career was almost over; and before you know it, my younger brother Tom will be in high school, and how my older brother Bill was already out of high school for two years, and blah, blah, blah...

Uh, hey guys...Remember me? My knee? Throbbing pain?? Killing me??? Might die????

But all the while they were talking, Mr. Wolfe was wrapping ice around my injured knee, so I shouldn't really complain.

It turned out to be ligament damage; so much so that I missed our next five games.

I was nowhere near where I should have been when I returned for the final three games, and I was used sparingly; I just didn't have the mobility anymore. 

But I was still grateful to be able to suit up with the guys for our final three.

Our record was 7-1-1 that year; we were co-county champs.

About fifteen years later, I was talking with a friend, a girl, who was at the Brick game. She let me in on a little secret. 

She told me that while I was being carried off the field with my knee injury, and she saw my #27 and realized it was me, she was relieved because she had a crush on our quarterback, Tommy Clark, and it would have simply destroyed her to think he had gotten hurt.

Gee, thanks, so nice to see you after fifteen years...

I didn't keep all of the material things from my days of high school football. For instance, someone who went shopping at the Salvation Army is now walking around with a North Bergen County Champ jacket that has "Steve" stitched in it.

 I still have a game ball that was presented to me in my senior year by the coaches.

And although my white game jersey is long gone, I still do have my red game jersey that I wore junior and senior year, and the chin strap I wore in my final game:

Goofy? Yeah, of course, but as the years go by, I want more and more goofy in my life. And since when is goofy a bad thing, anyway, right?

I don't recommend to anyone to live in the past (unless it has anything to do with the Beatles!), but I also don't recommend to anyone to disregard your memories of great days gone by. 

Our nicer memories bring a smile to our faces when we need a minute to figure out how the heck life got so damned complicated, and why some people who were so much a part of our lives are no longer with us.

These memories bring me a little bit of peace.

Playing high school football, in the grand scheme of all the things that have happened in my life, is certainly not the most important thing to me. 

But I will tell you this...The memories of playing with that dopey pigskin have given me some of the biggest smiles in my life.

And the guys who were my teammates, although I never see or get a chance to talk to most of them, will always be at the top of those memories.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * ** * * * * * * * *

Do you like pop culture? I hope so, because I have a radio show called STEVE LUDWIG'S CLASSIC POP CULTURE, at www.PlanetLudwig.com. Thanks!

IF YOU ENJOYED READING THIS BLOG, YOU MIGHT LIKE READING MY FIRST BOOK, SEE YOU IN CCU - A LIGHTHEARTED TALE OF MY OPEN-HEART SURGERY. YOU CAN ORDER IT AT MY WEBSITE:  ccubook.com.  IF YOU ORDER DIRECTLY FROM ME AT MY WEBSITE, THE BOOK IS HALF-PRICE ($7.99).

AND MY OTHER SMART-ALECK BROTHER, TOM, HAS HIS BLOG AT secondgrademinds.wordpress.com.

As always, thanks so much for visiting my blog!

  --Steve