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Too windy and cold to put up with jet skiing today. So I grabbed the camera and hoofed it a few miles around town.

Have a nice Monday, pinheads…..

I’ve been trying to come up with something reasonable in regards to a post, but nothing suited. Other than calling the lot of you a pack of freeloading, life sucking, do-nothings over and over again, all I really had up until five minutes ago was a big bag full of nothing.

Then I saw this in my hometown newspaper and I lost the sour grapes for a moment as a few memories of Coach Rogers came misting into my head.

Anybody who played football in Corinth learned the game at our YMCA. And if you happened to be in the Bitty League or the Gray Y league long about 1978 or so, you played under Tom Rogers. When I came through, he had an administrative position at the Y and also served as Referee for most all the football games.

I’ll never forget Trey Wayne coming back into the huddle to tell us that he had really knocked some kid on his ass, except he was a bit more flowery in describing his actions. Coach Rogers was walking past to start the clock and heard Trey float a couple of choice curses usually reserved for the tree houses or the woods. We all grinned big and guffawed not only at the suffering Trey inflicted on the opposing linebacker, but also the fact that we had most every cuss word definition wired by that age. We smacked shoulder pads and puffed up like toads, ready to shellac the enemy and curse and spit yet again, that is as soon as our coach sent in another play.

Coach Rogers’ whistle cut the fall air over my left shoulder pad. He trotted into our huddle and the conversation went something like this:

“What did you say, Trey?,” asked Coach Rogers.

We all deflated almost in unison.

“Something I shouldn’t have, I reckon.”

Trey’s voice softly trailed off.

“Take a seat,” ordered Coach Rogers.

He tossed Trey and explained to our coach the nature of our transgressions.

I don’t think anyone had the gumption to cuss in the huddle ever again.

Now, I understand that a couple of curse words, even those broadcast by an overly exuberant 11 year old, are not exactly Conrad Dobler kicking Merlin Olson in the head and then spitting on fans en route to the locker room, but put it into context. We couldn’t have been more than 10 or 12 years old at the time and this was YMCA football, after all. Coach had made his point. We respected Coach Rogers as both an authority figure and friend and we abided by his ruling. I think Trey was more embarrassed than anything for letting Coach Rogers down by acting like a fool on his field of play. Looking back, I feel pretty sure that Coach got a good chuckle out of the look on our collective faces.

I could not think of a better recipient of the recognition than Tom Rogers. I learned how to play football and the importance of sportsmanship and fair play from Coach Rogers. An entire town full of kids did, in fact. He continues to do great things for my little community and I know Corinth wouldn’t be the same without him.

Congratulations, Coach.

It is time to plant the garden.

So sayeth the metal rabbit.

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Have a good night.