The Maroon-bloods at Texas A&M University have a story about the harshest “Coach’s Challenge” ever declared. In 1954, in his first season as Head Coach, Paul “Bear” Bryant’s gridders went 1-9. The following summer, he took two busses with just over 100 players to a hot, cactus-ridden dot on the map, called Junction, Texas. In heat that exceeded 110º, The Bear worked those players for ten days, on a rocky pasture, with no water, in full pads. Most players didn’t have the courage to tell the Coach that they were quitting. So, they left under the cover of darkness. In the end, only 25 players remained. The following year, such off-campus “camps” were outlawed. No doubt, today Bryant would be arrested on criminal charges for his unyielding harshness. It should be noted however that his football teams went 25-4-2 in the following three seasons. The quitters didn’t want “it”. The survivors found it within, and are reverently referred to as “The Junction Boys”.
In sports, parents and coaches ask their kids to excel. We demand that they exceed previous limits. Why? Simply put, to the winner goes the spoils. For example, in my high school, the athletic achievers got first pick of the girls. The draft order worked like this: 1) The jocks. 2) The rich kids. 3) The Musicians. 4) The Partiers. 5) The Geeks. Oh sure, now we all act indignant about the inherent unfairness and insensitivity of “The Draft Rules”, but we all knew them. And, we all played by them. And, deep down, we knew that they were fair.
Winning is fun, but sustained winning carries expectations. My boy’s baseball team has had remarkable success in the past year. And, he was one of the two pitchers who helped carry the team to a league championship and a berth in the Little League World Series. But, sometimes success carries that ugly, burdensome baggage: complacency. As the boys began preparation for this fall’s series of tournament games, the coaches noticed an increase in the “dropsies” and other statistical indicators of 10-year-old half-heartedness. After a recent and particularly underwhelming practice, the coaches gathered the kids to tell them that when the team bus takes off this fall, only the hard-charging players can ride. It was the kind of talk that becomes familiar to a kid once he plays at the high school level. It’s the coach’s challenge: step up or step off. No doubt, the challenge was the first of its kind for these boys, most of who still prefer GI Joe to any girl at school.
The next day was hot and humid. The grass was high and wet, from the day’s rain. The mosquitoes were out collecting blood, by the pint. And, where there were 9 players at the previous practice who heard the challenge, only 5 were present to accept it. Insuring one’s place in that unwritten draft order means hard work.
Fall is the time of year when men all over our great country define themselves. In fact, it was in the fall of my junior year in high school when I first heard “The Challenge”. Acutely aware of my uncertain spot in the draft lottery, somewhere between underweight rich kids and clueless geeks, I was determined to move up on the selection board. I decided that I would make the football team. And, like all good stories, I encountered a few hurdles. These were my size, my utter lack of speed and a complete ignorance of the rules and fundamentals of the sport. With pads, I was emboldened to take the field, for Two-A-Days. The football coaches issued the “the Challenge” every day, followed by endless running, hitting and vomiting. Players thinned in number. But, I persevered. I wore the bruises like a badge of honor. I began to understand the definition of character. And, I felt like I was building a little of my own. I was far from All-State, not recruited by a Division I school nor did I get my picture in the paper. But, I played. I succeeded. I didn’t quit. And, you better believe I moved up in the draft.
The winner gets the glory, the sense of accomplishment, the girls, etc. Our coddling moms and their servile husbands sometimes require a refresher. I had a firm grip on this dynamic by the time I was sixteen. If I wanted to move up, I would have to work. I appreciate the coach or teacher who demands excellence because it creates opportunity for the player to achieve. My son has never heard of Junction, Texas and I hope he never endures anything so grueling. But, sooner or later, everyone comes to his own Junction. By helping our sons learn to work hard, we increase their chances of being a survivor and a winner.
