Everyone has a purpose in life. Some discover it at an early age, but others have to experience certain events to figure their true calling. I discovered what I wanted to do at the age of 8. My grandmother took me to a local American Legion for a football party. Back then, I did not know what football was and I hardly knew who were the Pittsburgh Steelers. Pittsburgh advanced to the 1994 AFC Championship for a spot at Super Bowl XXIX in Miami at home against the San Diego Chargers. The Legion, like so many local watering holes, hosted a huge football party filled with chips, soda (beer), and the main attraction, Steelers football on the big screen. The spectacle was unreal. Fans cheering wildly when Pittsburgh scored a touchdown. On the flip side, fans would hiss and boo at the screen if the opponent had an upper edge. I felt as if I was at the stadium with the fans. Unfortunately, Pittsburgh lost 17-13 on an attempted 4th and goal from the 3. However, the atmosphere was so thrilling and enjoyable that I founded a new hobby, watching football, Steelers football.
The Steelers and I are pretty much synoymous with one another. We both go almost together like peanut butter and jelly. Most of my friends think that I am a walking advertisement for the franchise because I constantly wear Steeler jerseys, even during the offseason. Whatever the case may be, I enjoy watching Steelers football. Every year, as the summer days dwindle, I await in tremendous anticipation the arrival of Steelers football. The Steelers not only represents the city, but they symbolize me. Blue-collar, hardworking, proud steel workers helped create the fabric of what Pittsburgh is known today, "the Steel City". Watching a hometown football team on a cool, dreary Sunday afternoon warms up the soul of the steel worker. It captivates the human spirit after an arduous work week. I identified with this prospective. I was taught to earn your stripes the old-fashioned way, roll up your sleeves, treat others with honor and respect, and do the work. For many years, the Steelers welcomed its opponents with its hard-nosed attitude, as the two combatants played a fierce game of football. I utilized their attitude into my daily life. Instead of beating them physically, I beat my naysayers by absorbing their doubt and converting it into self-motivation.
I wanted to particpate in athetic competition. During high school, I wanted to anchor the defense as a linebacker in playing football. I dreamed of being the vocal one, like a Jack Lambert, and able to back it up with ferocious, pulverizing hits on the opposition. Unfortunately, due to my cerebral palsy, I am unable to fulfill that dream. Instead, I got into student managing to keep myself occupied. I never felt such appreciation and pride during these years. Student managing helped solidify my foundation as a person and helped me better understand the rules of the game. It also fulfilled my contribution to the community. Watching and caring for my hometown team warmed up my soul, but the warmth took awhile to be present.
I made my student managing debut in late August 2001. Mount Pleasant traveled to Elizabeth Forward to battle the Warriors in Keystone Conference play. Heading into the game I did not know what to expect. I was excited to be affiliated with the team for the first time ever. However, I was even more concerned about how I would do. I entered into uncharted territory. Then Mount Pleasant Head Coach Mark Lyons ordered me to distribute the player equipment bags and to get all the equipment down to our sideline. Our sideline stood at the bottom slope of the hill. The team bus was parked on the top of the hill. I looked down at our vacant sideline thinking what a long way the trip would be. After unloading the players' bags, I gathered the coaches' equipment and proceeded down to the field. I was not aware of the route I took to get down to the sideline. Carl, the equipment guy, helped me carry some of the equipment to our sideline. He galloped around the stadium through the parking lot. Myself, I walked instead through Warrior Stadium, one by one, on the aluminium bleachers. I felt if I was making a grand entrance into the stadium, but without cheers from the crowd. I did not realize how much work I had to do before the game. For example, I had to make sure the team had sufficent amount of balls, towels, water, water bottles, kicking tee, extra point tee, and communicating with Coach Lyons about the pre-game setup. All night I ran the sideline like a chicken with its head decapitated. Michelle, the head athletic trainer, guided me through the process and made sure I had my head on straight.
I recalled her telling me, "Slow down! You are going at a million miles an hour. Take a breath and breathe."
Not a moment later, I heard Coach Lyons yelling, "Water, water, WATER!"
I ran to the players as fastest as I could, simultaneously swinging my arms, while holding the bright orange Gatorade water bottle carriage in my right hand. I ran quickly back to the sideline to refill the bottles. Each time a timeout was taken, or the quarter reached its end, I would run full sprint ahead, give out the water, retrieve it, and return the same way back to the sideline. This approach was simple, but effective. As the football season aged, I began to build confidence within myself and the team. My fellow teammates, the trainers, everyone associated with the Vikings began to notice my demeanor. The football parents began to compliment my work to the assistant coaches. Most saw the dedication and pride I was trying to spread. I felt appreciated for the first time other than my family. This appreciation was a surreal emotion, as it was very crucial in my character development. I utilized the "Steelers mentality" and quickly gain respect within the school and the community.
Do you know a coach, regardless of what sport, was so hot-headed, tough, and sometimes inferior that it was impossible to please? Mark Lyons fits this description. His style of coaching resembles a monarch, or a ruthless king, almost like Alexander the Great. If a player screwed up, he would go into a vicious tyriad, and sometimes would public humiliate you in front of your teammates and the fans in the stadium. His style was to rattle your nerves to get the job done. His stature was not imposing, he stands 5'8, weighs around 165, has short blonde straight hair, and a slender build. Out of all the coaches I have had to communicate with, he was the most difficult and demanding.
I remembered a scrimmage at Indiana, PA High School, prior to the 2002 season. The weather overcast with a moderate drizzle. The grass field captured the rainwater and it transformed the field into a semi-quagmire. Luckily, I had three younger assistants to help me during the game. Our efforts were unmatched to meet Coach Lyons' accomodations. I recall putting a trio of footballs wrapped in white towels in the end zone near the goal post for goalline offense during pre-game warmup. I ran back to the sideline to retrieve more towels. As I ran, Coach and I crossed paths. He asked firmly, "Travis, what are you doing?"
"I am going to the bench to get more towels." I replied.
"Why are you putting the wet balls on the ground in the end zone?"
"I was told to put those balls in that area for a goalline drill." I answered.
"What are you doing? You do not put the balls there!" Coach fired back. "Do you see it is raining out here?! I want fresh new balls in that area, and make sure we have fresh new balls for the scrimmage!"
Deplorable weather is not your best friend, especially with a wet natural grass surface. As a former team manager, these elements made my life a living mightmare. If you add Coaches' orders to the mix, it was a recipe for anger and frustration. All day long my assistants, the trainers, and I would try to keep everything in order. We survived, but I knew coach was not pleased. With each game, each mistake magnifies. I knew from that scrimmage and my debut a year before I had to be on my A-game every time to keep myself out of Coach's doghouse. The work was at times arduous, demanding, and sometimes frustrating, but I made this decision. The Vikings were downright pathetic during my first two years of football managing. Mount Pleasant were the bottom dwellers in their conference, with records of 1-9 and 2-8 respectively, in 2001 and 2002. As you can see, the team's swagger was dead and lifeless.
I recall a practice where Mother Nature reared her ugly head once again. Our practices occurred on a grassy field, beside the entrance to the High School Pool. Therefore, the field became muddy when wet.
The 2002 season was drawing near its end and most of the team waved the white flag in surrender. Morale was at a all-time low, and all of the members wanted the hell out. As for me, I continued to work with some diginity and pride. The team was in a 7 on 9 drill, with seven offensive players and nine defensive players on the other. It is a drill to scout the opposing team's offensive and defensive schemes. I kneeled behind the players, wiping the footballs frantically with towels. I tried my best in rotating relatively dried footballs during the drill. Mother Nature was winning the bout. Coach Lyons asked me fiercely to put a dry football down at the center position. I said I cannot do that because all the balls are wet and not ready yet. He ordered again to put a football on the center. I grabbed the towel, dried the ball fast, and placed it on the center. I do not exactly remember what he muttered after I placed the football. I do remember having a strong amount of anguish and disdain towards him. He publicly humiliated me. Parents stood from atop of the hill in shock of what just happened. The assistant coaches stood speechless, trying to comprehend what just transpired. At that moment, I wanted to drop the football, give Coach Lyons the bird, and walk off with my pride intact. I stayed. I stayed because I knew I had more supporters. It would have been foolish of me to let one person influence me to walk away. His "tough love" did not penetrate my strong will.
I do strongly dislike Coach Lyons because of his tyriant behavior and scare tactics as a coach. The Booster Club after that particular practice wanted Coach to be dismissed. They thought his actions were unacceptable and totally inappropriate. I agree, but Coach's "tough love" strengthened my character. I think we have a mutual respect with each other, but I proved to him, the team, and the fans I could manage. It would take much more than a public embarassment and constant yelling to crack my spirit. I will never know if Coach truly appreciated my presence and work. However, I am greatful for him being a "hardass" to me.
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