My high school years were great. I went to Rosemount High in Montreal. School was always a chore for me through the years, but I came to realize one day in my senior year just before graduation, that all this fun was going away. At the end of the term I would have to find a job.
The Principal was walking through the gym one day and came up to a group of us who were hanging out. “Boys, I’m not going to miss you next year”, he said, all the while wearing a sly smile on his face. “It will be sad to see you go” We all laughed with him. “But Sir”, I said, “I’ll be coming back because I’m missing one credit”. He turned to me and with a stern look on his face he said, “You Rio!! We’re going to give you that credit just so we can get rid of you!!”, which brought out a howl of laughter from everyone. All in all, the Principal was a good guy.
I ran into him years later at an airport and he said to me, “So Rio, what did you make of yourself?” I said that I had a video production company that specialized in mounting small format cameras to give the TV audience the race car drivers’ perspective from inside the car. I named all the racing series that I was contracted to. He replied, “I’ve seen those races on TV and have seen the action from those cameras. You are very good at what you do. I’m proud of you son, you’ve done well.” Accolades from the Principal. It felt good.
I didn’t know what I wanted to do when school was over, and I didn’t have the marks or ambition to go to University. I once told my Guidance Counselor that I would like to fly jets for the Navy and be stationed on an aircraft carrier at sea. I had heard though, (whether it was true or not) that they didn’t let anyone who wore glasses fly airplanes. Now, take into account what I did end up doing - I didn’t fly jets, but I did go out to sea, and worked on a Cruise Ship for 3 years. It was almost the same, because we were under the authority of Captains and it always felt like we were in the military. We were treated as though we were. But that’s another story for later.
My High School football coach was a great guy. Mr. Marsden. He stood about 5 ft 8 inches and was very fit. The coach was a 'no nonsense' kind of guy, but a great guy; everyone liked and respected him. He was also the Gym Teacher and an English Teacher. Although I never had him as an English Teacher, he was my Gym Teacher and coached me on the junior football team. When he taught us how to hit in football, he stood across the biggest guy on the squad who was dressed in full gear and went through a play process in full contact, head to head. All the while he wore no equipment, but his opponent would always find himself on his back at the end of the demonstration. “Be a man”, he would always say.
If you got hurt during a game and he had to come onto the field, he always said the same thing. “Walk It Off, Be a Man.”
You could have a broken leg with the lower part at a 180 degree angle from the rest of your body and he would say “Get up and walk ** off the field. Be a man.”
If you got hurt, you did your best to walk off the field under your own power. You didn’t want to embarrass the coach by making him walk onto the field.
During one game a player broke his finger and created a stoppage in play. The coach walked out onto the field and asked what the problem was. The player showed him his finger which was bent over backwards. The coach looked at the players’ hand, then looked at the player and said, “Is that all? Are your legs OK? The player replied that his legs were fine.
“Then get off my field, walk it off. Be a man!!”
He was also heard saying, “I can’t believe he made me walk out here for a damn broken finger!”
I had heard about the coach from my three future brother-in-laws as they all had played football under him when they were in high school and they were the stars on their teams. I really wasn’t a football player. Hockey was my sport. But I had to play football to keep up with my peers. I was also told the football players always got the girls. That was the way it was on TV, wasn’t it?
The equipment we wore on the Junior Football Team never fit. It was all the leftovers from the Senior Football Team. My helmet was soo big that it could spin around my head.
In the last game of the season, last play of the game the coach puts me in as a defensive back. What the hell does a defensive back do? I’m a hockey player waiting for the hockey season to start, but I had to play football. I went in behind the defensive line and got into position, or what I thought was position. I could hear the coach say, “What the hell is Rio doing?”
The ball is snapped and the two front lines dove into each other. Out of a hole in the line comes an army tank headed right for me. Do the right thing, I say, get out of his way. But which way, left or right? Can’t get hurt, hockey season starts on Saturday. He goes to my left and I go right. But guilt got to me. I have to try and make it look like I made a play. As the tank goes by me on my left, the ball carrier is following him through. I see my chance and dive at the ball carriers legs. Now, remember how I told you that my helmet didn’t really fit well? The other thing about it is that the single bar face guard was at a weird angle downward. There was a lot of open space exposing my face which meant I could see well, but was fairly unprotected.
As I dove for the ball carrier’s legs, the heel of one of his cleats conveniently fit exactly through the space between the bar and the top of the opening of my helmet, and takes out my nose. Now I can’t see anything because there is a shoe in my face and there is blood flying everywhere. Hmm, I think, blood. Blood should be accompanied by pain somewhere, I thought, and just there, in that instant, the pain showed up. I can see stars!!
While this was going on inside my helmet, the ball carrier kept running. Well he was trying to run, but because with his foot was wedged inside my helmet, I was along for the tow. How far did he go, a mile or two maybe? I couldn’t really tell because I couldn’t see anything with this shoe in my face and blood in my eyes, and there was the pain. I don’t like pain.
When he finally fell over and went down, his foot and shoe separated company and I lay in a heap on the field with his shoe sticking out of my helmet. I’m still seeing stars. The ball carrier came back to collect his shoe and looking down at me says, “Hey, this guy is really bleeding!”
Whistles are blowing, people are gathering around me and somebody calls for the coach. I saw his face looking down at me. It was blurry and bloody at the same time. He looked down at me and said, “AHH, it’s just a flesh wound, I’ve seen worse shaving. Get up Rio and walk off my field like a man.” Two of our players stood me up.
“But coach” I said, “I can’t see where I’m going with all this blood in my eyes and I feel really dizzy”
He looked at me again and said, “It’s just a broken nose, it’ll give you character. The girls love that kind of thing. The game is over anyway. Nice tackle Rio, your first one this year isn’t it? Good luck playing hockey with your face in that condition. Ha-Ha-Ha-Ha. Practice is at 9:00 am tomorrow morning. Be there and don’t be late”
And he walked way. You gotta love the coach.
*Names may have been changed to protect the innocent!
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