The Triumph of Defeat

The Triumph of Defeat

A few mornings ago, actually while I was in the midst of my morning prayers, I had a memory come into my mind from nearly 32 years ago.  It was from the fall of 1984 during a football practice on the Monday of the week leading up to the first game of my senior year of High School football.

I had worked extremely hard during the off season to come into fall camp in the best shape of my life, with the hopes that I would be the starting Center of the offensive line as the Madison High School Bobcat football team began its season.

The football team had just won two consecutive undefeated state titles the previous two years, and expectations were high as an experienced group of seniors led another talented team onto the fall gridiron.

We were led by a wonderful coach, Preston Haley, who somehow knew how to turn boys into men, pull every ounce of talent out of a bunch of scrappy farm boys, and then somehow even get a little bit more beyond that.

After two weeks of fall camp I was feeling comfortable in the starting spot at the center position… or so I thought.

We had 6 experienced senior offensive lineman, but only 5 starting spots.

Me in the back left corner

The biggest battle was raging between the two guys at the left tackle position, Darren Klingler and Dean Struhs. As we entered the final week of practice before our first game of the season, Dean had fallen into the 2^nd spot behind Darren at that position going into the first game.  Determined to play, Dean talked to the coach and decided to challenge me for my spot at center.

It was announced before practice that day, and Coach Haley set up a series of physical skills against each other, culminating in a one on one blocking drill to see who could best the other and win the starting spot. Such a challenge could be issued on the Monday of any week, but only on that Monday, so the starters could practice together during the remainder of the team drills leading up to the game each Friday night.

I had one small problem going against me… Dean was bigger than I was.

(Me center, Dean on the upper right)

As the battle raged on I was determined to not lose the position I had worked so long and hard to win during the entire off season.  After a lengthy, grueling series of gladiator-like battles, both of us were beginning to fatigue.  Suddenly, one of my feet slipped, and I went down… and in an instant, Dean Struhs moved into the starting center spot going into the first game at the end of the week.

I was devastated, crushed, and needless to say, pretty upset at Dean for taking the spot I thought I had rightfully earned through so much effort leading up to that point.  Relegated to practicing with the second string that day, a searing anger began to burn within me, and I told Dean he better not get comfortable there, because I was going to win that spot back from him the following week.  But in my broken heart, I had doubt if I could do it.

Sensing the situation, and realizing that the hard feelings could be detrimental to our team effort that year, a wise Coach Haley and one of our senior team Captains, Stuart Cardon asked me to come into the office after practice that day.  Stuart was the smallest of our lineman and played at the left guard position, between center and tackle.  He was a tough kid and in addition to being the starting left guard that year, he was also the starting middle linebacker on the defensive side of the ball.  They suggested that for the betterment of the team, that Stuart would like to give up his left guard position to me, so that he could save his energy more for the defensive side of the ball, and that since I had good mobility for a lineman, that I would be able to fit the pulling guard spot better than Dean could.

I was still upset, and had been determined in my mind to want to stay at center, but as they talked to me, it just felt right… and I really wanted to start in that first game of my senior season, so I agreed.

Switching to left guard was the best decision I could have ever made.  I found that I loved the blocking assignments of that position so much better than at the center spot.  There was nothing better than pulling down the line on a trap play and plowing into an unsuspecting opponent to clear the hole for one of our talented running backs, or to pull around the end on a sweep play and come up against a much smaller defensive back that I could physically dominate to clear the way for a speedy tailback to sprint towards the end zone.

Our team went on that year to win our 3^rd straight state championship title.

That year was the best of my football career, and I played alongside Dean as a trusted teammate instead of a bitter or defeated rival.  After the season I even received a scholarship offer to play for Snow College, a Junior college in Utah.

Life took me on different path to a church mission, and I fell in love with my wonderful wife, and I never ended up playing another down of competitive football again after our state championship game of that fall in 1984.

Looking back now, instead of the bitterness and defeat I felt when I lost my starting spot, I am now grateful to Dean for his challenge to me that day.  It taught me several valuable and important lessons that have helped me through my life.

I learned that sometimes, despite our best efforts, things don’t always work out the way WE want them to.  I learned that you should never get too comfortable, take anything for granted or feel entitled to what you think you may have earned, because it can be taken away in an instant.  I learned that sometimes when things don’t work out the way you expected, and a door seems to close in your face, that another and sometimes much better pathway opens up far greater than what you had planned on.  I also learned that when life gets tough, the Lord has often placed wise and caring people around us, like a Coach Haley and a Stuart Cardon, to show us kindness and offer to help us see our way through those difficulties.  That experience also taught me how to realize that our lives are full of different seasons, that things like football eventually come to an end, and other seasons like marriage, parenthood, and other rewarding endeavors can take their place, and that we should always enjoy each season of our life while it lasts.

These are just a few of the valuable life lessons I learned from the football gridiron throughout those early years of my life.  And I am grateful for Dean and what his challenge taught me.

Sadly, Dean passed away several years ago from a sudden heart attack, leaving behind a wife and family.  One of his sons Mitch now plays football for Arizona State, fulfilling both his and his father’s dream of playing competitive football.

I don’t really know Mitch or his family, but during my prayer that morning, when this memory was jolted into my mind, I felt I should reach out and share this story with him, so that he might come to know how Dean, his father, had a lasting impact on my life in positive ways.  And that perhaps it might inspire and help Mitch somehow in his own life and struggles on the gridiron.

And from this experience, I also learned how a wise and loving Heavenly Father sometimes brings things full circle, taking a hard experience for me, turning it into a way for me to grow in many ways, and later allowing that experience to come back around to Dean's family for their betterment as well.

Life is such a wonderful experience!  May we cherish the moments, both good and bad, and be grateful for the meaning behind all that we do!

Eric

As Plain as the Nose on Your Face

As Plain As The Nose On Your Face

            No, it’s okay… I’ll admit it.  I’ve got a bit of a big nose!  Not the huge bulbous kind that

looks like a tennis ball with nostrils, but the longer skinny kind, with a narrow bridge which is crooked and tilted off a bit towards the right side.  If I were to literally comply with the age old advice to “Follow your nose”, my journey would be a large clockwise circle which could be measured by the exact degree to which my nasal septum deviates.  Trauma will do that to a nose…especially multiple traumatic events.

            Although I am sure there were many blunt force episodes to the most forward part of my face over the years, I can remember three specific events which I will recount today.

            The first happened in sixth grade PE class at the old Washington Elementary school on Main Street, which has long since been torn down.  On this particularly fine day, our class was engaged in an epic and ruthless game of dodge ball.  Now when you are a young, not yet developed 6^th grader, you can only grasp and throw a big 11” rubber dodge ball with limited force and control, and typically don’t inflict or receive much damage.  But amongst the collection of rubber balls in the gym closet at Washington Elementary, were a hand full of smaller 6” diameter globes of death we referred to as “cherry bombs”!  When inflated with enough PSI, these small projectiles packed a bit of a sting when hurled with accuracy.  Lucky for us, our puny pre-pubescent arms didn’t pack much of a punch.

            But on this particular day, we had encouraged our teacher, Mr. Erickson to join in our battle to the death, in thoughts that it would be fun to peg our teacher with balls and have it be legal and acceptable.  After all, how else could a kid get back at the man who docked you a few points on your last spelling test?

            The problem was that although he was a bigger target, he could also throw a lot harder than we could. I remember being engaged in brutal combat, and bending down to pick up a large ball rolling near my feet, while unbeknownst to me, at the same time, Mr. Erickson was hurling a tightly pressurized cherry bomb at someone standing several feet behind me.  As I arose to search for my next victim, my hands occupied holding the ball I had just retrieved; I stood up directly into the line of fire.  I remember my face feeling intense burning numbness, and I think I might have felt the tip of my nose briefly bounce off the back of my skull as it compressed inward and then exploded back outward with a great burst of blood.  My lips stung and my eyes spurted tears as warm, red liquid gushed over my chin and I staggered sideways out of bounds and my nose now slanted slightly askew.

            Nasal deviation #2 happened a few years later while playing football. Back at that time in Junior High, I was playing fullback and linebacker (these were the days before I grew into a sluggish offensive lineman). During the course of play, one of my chin strap snaps had come loose. It was right before halftime and during one of the final plays before the quarter ended I had a significant collision with an opposing player.  I can’t remember now if I was running with the ball and getting tackled or if I was making a tackle on someone else, but during the collision, the chin strap of my helmet came completely loose and my helmet was jammed forcefully downward, with the top edge of my helmet breaking my nose flat and once again, slightly off to the right.

            A humorous side story to this event was that after having halftime of the game to staunch the bleeding from my nose, our team was kicking off to begin the second half.  While running down the field full speed on the kickoff, an opposing player stepped in front of me to block my progress.  As we impacted an enormous amount of coagulated blood and snot which had filled my nasal cavity during halftime, was ejected out through my broken nose, bypassing my face mask and splattering all over the chest of the opposing player!  I remember the look of shock and horror on his face as he looked down at his jersey after the play.  Unhurt and now breathing better, I laughed and ran off, but I am sure that over the years since he has exaggerated the story, and not knowing of my previous injury, has told his kids of the time that he hit a player so hard he literally knocked his brains out.

            The third traumatic blow to my protruding proboscis occurred on a dark and quiet night.  I was in high school and my room was in the deep, dark recesses of the basement.  Awakening from a sound sleep, I realized I needed to use the bathroom.  Not wanting to awaken my brother, who was still fast asleep, by turning on a light, I arose and made my way toward the door.  Now at night, in a basement with no windows or lights on other than a minuscule fraction of light reflected around several corners and down a flight of stairs, I was pretty blind as I staggered forward.  I recalled that we had left our bedroom door partially open and I didn’t want to run into it, so I plodded ahead waving my arms back and forth in front of me like a lurching zombie or Frankenstein monster for several slow, cautious seconds.  Mentally calculating that I surely had passed the doorway at this point, my bladder reported that I needed to quicken my pace to the designated objective.

            Lowering my hands partially to my sides, I strode ahead out into what I expected to be the hallway.  Imagine my sniffer’s surprise when I thumped fully unguarded and face first into the edge of the open door.  Although it wasn't at high speed, in my sleepy stupor it might have well been a stiff boxers jab to the face. Once again the blood flowed from my nasal orifices, albeit off to the aforementioned right angle.

            Now all these years later, I am reminded of such events every time I look into the mirror or try to take a deep breath through my deviated septum. So what can I possibly glean from these traumatic events and their ever-present facial reminder?

            From the dodge ball episode, I learned to be ever vigilant and never take your eyes off the potential spiritual attack of the Adversary.  I am reminded of the story in the Old Testament in Judges, chapter 7 when Gideon is instructed of the Lord to select only 300 soldiers for his army to fight against the Midianites.  The sign he was given to know which men to select was to have the men come and drink from the river.  Most lowered their heads to drink with their mouths to the water or knelt down and bent forward. But those few who kept their head up and alert to potential threats from the enemy as they used their hands to raise the water to their lips were those chosen and worthy to fight for the Lord… and they were victorious, despite their small numbers, in their battle against a Midianite army which was “without number”. I think the Lord would have all of us be ever vigilant and alert against the numberless temptations and spiritual attacks which might be thrown at us at any moment if we aren’t paying attention.

            My football fracture indicates that we must make every effort to ensure that we are properly clad in the armor of God (See Ephesians 6:10-18), including the helmet of salvation.

“For we wrestle not against flesh and blood, but against principalities, against powers, against the rulers of darkness of this world, against spiritual wickedness… Wherefore take unto you the whole armour of God, that ye may be able to withstand in the evil day, and having done all, to stand.”  Most likely, most of us tend to run around in the competitive game of life with pieces of our armor loose or missing, and when we encounter those collisions which mortality throws in our path, we suffer the unprotected consequences and pain.  When properly and securely padded in my football gear, I experienced many violent collisions without incident, but when we have chinks in our armor we are all vulnerable.

            In my darkened basement bedroom, I collided with an obstacle that I knew was there and thought I was prepared to handle, but just when I thought I was in control of the situation and knew my bearings, I became overly confident in my ability to negotiate the darkness safely without the simple assistance light could have provided.  Lowering my guard and lacking clear vision, I slammed face first into something I could have easily avoided.  In life, if not careful, we can all fall victim to overconfidence in our own ability to do things on our own.  We fail to take the effort to do those things that will shed a more clear light onto our surroundings and give us clear vision to avoid the pitfalls and stumbling blocks which are strewn along our path.  Thinking we can negotiate the darkness on our own, without the light and help the Lord has to offer us, we will undoubtedly experience some unnecessary hard knocks.

            The good news is that, despite the short term blood, sweat and tears we spiritually suffer, that the Lord helps us to heal our wounds, learn and keep moving forward.   As I look at my crooked nasal reflection, I am glad that he has left me a small reminder of these lessons learned, so that hopefully I can avoid repeating them again in the years to come.

            Happy days, friends!  Remember to keep your armor secure, your guard up and stay in the light!