What Youth Football is About

It was sad to read that there was a triple shooting yesterday at a youth football game near Pittsburgh. No matter what the sport, parents often ruin it. But much more often, they and the coaches sacrifice untold hours going to and from unending practices to prepare for a game that goes in a flash.

So do the years.

Yesterday was the last day that many of the 125-pound Bethlehem Steelers, including my grandson, will ever play at the Monocacy Complex. They still have two regular season games, but they're away.

During football season, these young men practice four or five times a week, starting on the hottest days of Summer and then extending into bitterly cold nights. Some of them never see more than a few minutes of action, but they stay. Some of them get injured before the first ball is snapped, but they stay. Mothers, fathers and other loved ones get them there and take them home.

Coaches, and there can be as many as eight of them, spend all that time away from their jobs and on the field. What's more, they also spend time discussing plays, reviewing film and scouting other teams.

Most of these boys have spent six or seven years playing at different levels. Most of their coaches are around just as long, too.

Now the Steelers are by no means unique. This goes on everywhere, whether it is the Bethlehem Steelers, the Upper Saucon Storm or the Lower Macungie Mustangs.

So what do they learn? They might learn how to tackle or block, but there's other, more important, lessons. The willingness to come to practice, one day at a time, teaches discipline. Facing a team that's bigger and stronger than them, teaches courage. Knowing that other kids, who might be more or less gifted, are working beside them every day, teaches respect. Helping a fallen opponent to his feet teaches compassion. Sitting on the bench, waiting for a chance to play, teaches patience. Seeing parents make numerous sacrifices, day after day, teaches love.

So if you think youth football has gone to Hell, look above at the picture of elusive running back Mohammed, who is holding his little sister's hand as he and his family make their way onto the field.

Or take a look at the very obvious love between this young man and his mother.

Then there's QB "Who Dat" Lambert, who is never happier than when his mom is at his side, even though he now towers over her.

They were a great bunch of kids. Now they're a great bunch of young men.

5 YO Marcus Stars in Bethlehem Steelers Half Time Show

This young man was amazing!

A Sunday Drive ... On a Bike

Remember the Sunday drive? This one was on the bike. Using Google's mapping feature for bikes, I was able to get a route from Nazareth to Grange Park in Upper Macungie that kept me off the main drags. My grandson had a football game there against South Parkland. If he was going to risk his life against the Trojans, I'd risk mine against Lehigh Valley motorists.

Google Maps managed to put me on both the Nor-Bath and Ironton Trails for part of the 51-mile round trip.

The most dangerous part of my trip was the frequent appearance of PSU students, who were collecting money for cancer or something. There was even a kid waiting outside my estate.

I unleashed the hounds.

I shot some video of different parts of the trip, ending it with one of Dat's touchdown passes.

We both survived.

Are You Ready For Some Football??

The Bethlehem Steelers hosted their inner-City rival, the Raiders, last night, in an exciting scrimmage. The kids from both teams had a blast, while parents and coaches were screaming themselves hoarse. During a break in the action, I went for a bottle of water at the snackstand. There, a huddle of young ladies was evaluating the talent on the field, right down to names and numbers. Including my grandson! I pretended not to notice. I wonder who's on their first team.

Dat, #3, is playing QB this year. Thomas "the train" Murphy, has moved on, and is a name you'll be hearing soon.

Should Parents Be Banned From Kids' Football Games?

Last week, the Bethlehem Steelers (125 lbs.) were playing the Mustangs in Lower Macungie. With a little over a minute to go, and the Steelers up by 20, a young Mustang was injured.

Unlike most kids, who might yell in pain or even cry (you can cry in football), this boy was just lying there. He was out. When he came to, he was not moving. He complained of numbness in his shoulder and arm, and everyone waited what seemed like a half hour for an ambulance to drive out onto the field and take the boy away.

Who the hell would want to play after something like that? The Mustangs and the Steelers, that's who. They played a pointless minute in a game that was already decided and after the kids had lost their enthusiasm.

Coaches were still screaming, with veins popping out of their necks and foreheads. So were moms and dads. But the kids knew better. The game was over.

Yesterday, the Steelers played a very good team from North Parkland. They're called the Buffaloes and they are big. I was on the chain gang.

Before these games start, the kids on both teams start whooping it up and hitting each other or slapping their pads, reminding me of primal warriors from our distant past. Cheerleaders encourage them with a banner they run through to their bench.

But the kids aren't the only ones who get psyched. Parents and coaches start screaming, too.

During yesterday's game, which was very close but eventually won by the Buffaloes, one of their boys fumbled the ball in the backfield. As Steelers scrambled for the ball, one of North Parkland's 900 coaches (they all have more coaches than players and with very nice matching shirts) shouted out, "Step on his hands!"

WTF? These are 11 and 12 year-old kids, not the NFL. Would this guy appreciate another adult telling some boy to step on his son's hand?

I turned to the coach, from where I was on the chain gang, and asked him what the hell was wrong with him. There's no excuse for that kind of behavior. To his credit, the coach immediately apologized, told me he had never said anything like that before, and did not know what had happened to him.

I believe him, too. I don't think any of his boys heard him in all the confusion, with so many adults screaming conflicting orders at the tops of their lungs. And if they did, they'd ignore him. The kids knew better.

I'm sure this coach could be removed, but that's not the problem. The problem is that perfectly nice people can turn into animals very quickly. Does the violence inherent in a sport like football cause us all to become primitive tribesman, devolving about 30,000 years for the two hours that we stand in a 100-yard filed of grass?

My grandson loves the game, even more than baseball. So do his teammates. But I'm not worried about them. It's their parents.

Callahan's Job Plan - Hiring Freeze and Layoffs

On Saturday, I watched my grandson's Bethlehem Steelers get annihilated by a swarm of Emmaus Hornets, 20-7. Whenever my grandson got the ball, he spent most of his time running for his life. He did score once, early in the game, but those Emmaus kids shut everyone down after that. They must be juicin'.

Actually, they were very nice boys who played hard and deserved the win in a well-officiated game. Even their parents were classy. So we couldn't even complain about the other side or the refs, our usual scapegoats.

I pretty much stopped paying attention, and instead spent lots of time talking to wincing Steeler dads. Two of them work for the City.

"How 'bout that Callahan?" one of them asked me, blissfully unaware that I am the most Evil Blogger in the Lehigh Valley.

"What do you mean?" I answered, unsure whether he liked or disliked the guy.

"He's talking about a job creation plan. But Bethlehem has a hiring freeze under him and he's threatening layoffs. Who the hell does he think he's kidding?"

There's one union Democrat from Bethlehem who will be voting for Dent, not Callahan.