I was fortunate to play three seasons of high school football with Stan Putnal. Though that’s where most of my memories of him came from, it’s quite evident he was much more than a football star.
To me he was affectionately known as Putnal, and very rarely Stan. He and I ran in different social circles, weren’t in the same classes, and parked in different parking lots (hilariously now, a huge determining factor back in the day). He was back of the bus cool, while I sat closer to the front. But as teammates, we always had each other’s back.
We shared few things in common, like our slim stature and dark hair. On occasion I would be mistaken for Stan, which always made me laugh. His skinny arms and legs were hard-wired with speedy fast-twitch muscles. Al Lewis said what we all thought, dubbing Putnal the “fastest white boy.” Stan’s chiseled face was far more handsome than mine.
The 1973 Central ninth-grade team was a behemoth, rolling over opponents with abandon, easily earning the City Championship. Though we would win the state championship two years later, Coach Jones’ squad is discussed more at reunions. Stan played both ways, at receiver and defensive back, making his quarterback buddy George DuBose look like Namath. Putnal’s dark green jersey number was 55, very odd for someone with his speed and stature. I would be remiss not to mention our victories over the GMC Junior Varsity…66-0 in Macon, then 96-0 on the road in Milledgeville (66-0 at the half).
The greatest catch I remember Stan ever made was in a practice. For some reason the coaches would have the offense run plays on a different part of the field every day, perhaps so the grass on the field would wear out evenly. One day the offense was running plays toward the road, with their backs to the bushes separating the “Proving Grounds” with the old baseball field.
From the left slot Putnal ran a deep flag pattern, going straight for ten yards, then angling left toward the far away corner of the end zone. Not far from me, quarterback Mike Jolly dropped back, stepped up, and zipped one of his signature passes. Though it was a deep route, Jolly didn’t throw a high, arching pass. Instead he fired the ball 30 yards on a line…straight at the back of Putnal’s orange helmet. Running full speed, Stan sensed the approaching ball.
Without breaking stride Putnal bent at the waist, leaning his upper body to the right. The pass whizzed past where his head had just been, sticking sweetly in Stan’s hands. He bent his body back upright and continued racing down the field. Everyone was speechless. To Stan, it was just another catch.
One thing we had in common was dear to me: We both liked to tape our cleats. Wrapping our black Spot-Bilts with white athletic tape created a cool, distinctive look, much to the chagrin of our coaches. I’d like to think we were the trend setters, for as the 74 and 75 seasons unfolded, more and more of our teammates joined in....even those silly linemen. Before games I’d usually catch Stan checking out my shoes. I would be checking out his tape job as well. There’s a great action shot of Stan in the yearbook: white jersey, orange pants, and black taped shoes.
In 1975 Stan showed up for the season opener carrying his own pair of cleats, a black pair of multi-cleated Astroturf shoes. He taped then up as usual, and for several games quietly went about his business playing great football. Then on a soggy Friday night at Porter Stadium, Putnal kept slipping in his turf shoe,s. On the sidelines there was a quick search for a 10th-grade backup wearing Putnal’s shoe size. I think it was Tom Whatley who “volunteered.” Stan came off the field, hastily unwrapped the tape and tore off his turfs, and just as quickly returned to the field, to wreak more havoc.
Stan became one of the few tenth-grade starters on the varsity. Such was the Big Orange system that I really can’t remember a spectacular Putnal play. Coach McWilliams gracefully shared this one on Stan’s on-line obituary:
...Just before halftime, Lindsey had caught a pass that set up a field goal to give them strength...we took the ensuing kickoff back to the 35...wherein, I noticed Lindsey Scott (I did not know who he was at that time, and I am not sure many people know what I am going to write...including Stan)...we checked into a sprint pass to Stan on our sideline...Stan catches an 18 yard comeback, tries to stop the clock...does not get out bounds, so we have to check into the same play to the shortside of the field...I want Stan to run by the defender...and I am telling him coming to the sideline to take the guy "downtown"...which he wiggles and breaks by him and scores the late firsthalf touchdown, this is ultimately the hammerblow from which Coach Donaldson and Wayne County never recover...Stan had beaten Lindsey on this play...(I'm not finished)...I was ecstatic and fussing in the same breath going in at halftime...I say to Stan and Jolly...I wanted you to go deep the first time...they both said... Coach, we saw him get up limping...Stan replied...we knew what you were going to call, Coach, so Mike and I were setting him up on the first one....what could I say, but here we go guys...get in there and get us on the scoreboard...I did so learn so much from Coach Steiner...he would have loved Stan. It is altogether proper and fitting that Michael Jolly chose Stan for his guest to the Atlanta 100 Percent Wrong Club that year...I thought you might want to hear that story which has meant so much over the years...particularly after I found it was Lindsey Scott that bore the brunt of these two guys...
Crusty offensive coordinator McWilliams seemed to have a soft spot in his heart for Stan. Here’s a story Roy neglected to tell: Sunday afternoons were for watching game film. As much as us players wished otherwise, the meetings were mostly serious. Coaches would point out the mistakes and “gently” “instruct” and “teach” the players.
It had been another game where Stan had gone both ways, sacrificing his slight body, pushing himself past exhaustion, rarely coming off the field. McWilliams noticed this on the film. As usual, when the offensive huddle broke, split end Putnal had the furthest “jog” to his position. As McWilliams narrated, he poked out to his spot, worn out. Jolly was calling signals, and Stan was too tired to take his stance. As the ball was snapped, Putnal was just leaning over, waving his arm down to the faraway ground. The entire team was rolling in our seats. Stan just sat there, with that wide, sheepish grin on his face.
Years later I was told Stan had become an artist. I checked out his web site and discovered amazingly detailed drawings, putting my high school cartoons and doodles to shame. Two things I really admire are those able to make the most of their God-given gifts, and fathers devoted to their children. Reading the obituary comments, it was apparent that Stan was quite successful in these important areas of life.
Many of you knew him much better than me. I’d love to have you share your thoughts and memories. Many years have passed, but it’s still sad to lose another classmate. And teammate.
To me he was affectionately known as Putnal, and very rarely Stan. He and I ran in different social circles, weren’t in the same classes, and parked in different parking lots (hilariously now, a huge determining factor back in the day). He was back of the bus cool, while I sat closer to the front. But as teammates, we always had each other’s back.
We shared few things in common, like our slim stature and dark hair. On occasion I would be mistaken for Stan, which always made me laugh. His skinny arms and legs were hard-wired with speedy fast-twitch muscles. Al Lewis said what we all thought, dubbing Putnal the “fastest white boy.” Stan’s chiseled face was far more handsome than mine.
The 1973 Central ninth-grade team was a behemoth, rolling over opponents with abandon, easily earning the City Championship. Though we would win the state championship two years later, Coach Jones’ squad is discussed more at reunions. Stan played both ways, at receiver and defensive back, making his quarterback buddy George DuBose look like Namath. Putnal’s dark green jersey number was 55, very odd for someone with his speed and stature. I would be remiss not to mention our victories over the GMC Junior Varsity…66-0 in Macon, then 96-0 on the road in Milledgeville (66-0 at the half).
The greatest catch I remember Stan ever made was in a practice. For some reason the coaches would have the offense run plays on a different part of the field every day, perhaps so the grass on the field would wear out evenly. One day the offense was running plays toward the road, with their backs to the bushes separating the “Proving Grounds” with the old baseball field.
From the left slot Putnal ran a deep flag pattern, going straight for ten yards, then angling left toward the far away corner of the end zone. Not far from me, quarterback Mike Jolly dropped back, stepped up, and zipped one of his signature passes. Though it was a deep route, Jolly didn’t throw a high, arching pass. Instead he fired the ball 30 yards on a line…straight at the back of Putnal’s orange helmet. Running full speed, Stan sensed the approaching ball.
Without breaking stride Putnal bent at the waist, leaning his upper body to the right. The pass whizzed past where his head had just been, sticking sweetly in Stan’s hands. He bent his body back upright and continued racing down the field. Everyone was speechless. To Stan, it was just another catch.
One thing we had in common was dear to me: We both liked to tape our cleats. Wrapping our black Spot-Bilts with white athletic tape created a cool, distinctive look, much to the chagrin of our coaches. I’d like to think we were the trend setters, for as the 74 and 75 seasons unfolded, more and more of our teammates joined in....even those silly linemen. Before games I’d usually catch Stan checking out my shoes. I would be checking out his tape job as well. There’s a great action shot of Stan in the yearbook: white jersey, orange pants, and black taped shoes.
In 1975 Stan showed up for the season opener carrying his own pair of cleats, a black pair of multi-cleated Astroturf shoes. He taped then up as usual, and for several games quietly went about his business playing great football. Then on a soggy Friday night at Porter Stadium, Putnal kept slipping in his turf shoe,s. On the sidelines there was a quick search for a 10th-grade backup wearing Putnal’s shoe size. I think it was Tom Whatley who “volunteered.” Stan came off the field, hastily unwrapped the tape and tore off his turfs, and just as quickly returned to the field, to wreak more havoc.
Stan became one of the few tenth-grade starters on the varsity. Such was the Big Orange system that I really can’t remember a spectacular Putnal play. Coach McWilliams gracefully shared this one on Stan’s on-line obituary:
...Just before halftime, Lindsey had caught a pass that set up a field goal to give them strength...we took the ensuing kickoff back to the 35...wherein, I noticed Lindsey Scott (I did not know who he was at that time, and I am not sure many people know what I am going to write...including Stan)...we checked into a sprint pass to Stan on our sideline...Stan catches an 18 yard comeback, tries to stop the clock...does not get out bounds, so we have to check into the same play to the shortside of the field...I want Stan to run by the defender...and I am telling him coming to the sideline to take the guy "downtown"...which he wiggles and breaks by him and scores the late firsthalf touchdown, this is ultimately the hammerblow from which Coach Donaldson and Wayne County never recover...Stan had beaten Lindsey on this play...(I'm not finished)...I was ecstatic and fussing in the same breath going in at halftime...I say to Stan and Jolly...I wanted you to go deep the first time...they both said... Coach, we saw him get up limping...Stan replied...we knew what you were going to call, Coach, so Mike and I were setting him up on the first one....what could I say, but here we go guys...get in there and get us on the scoreboard...I did so learn so much from Coach Steiner...he would have loved Stan. It is altogether proper and fitting that Michael Jolly chose Stan for his guest to the Atlanta 100 Percent Wrong Club that year...I thought you might want to hear that story which has meant so much over the years...particularly after I found it was Lindsey Scott that bore the brunt of these two guys...
Crusty offensive coordinator McWilliams seemed to have a soft spot in his heart for Stan. Here’s a story Roy neglected to tell: Sunday afternoons were for watching game film. As much as us players wished otherwise, the meetings were mostly serious. Coaches would point out the mistakes and “gently” “instruct” and “teach” the players.
It had been another game where Stan had gone both ways, sacrificing his slight body, pushing himself past exhaustion, rarely coming off the field. McWilliams noticed this on the film. As usual, when the offensive huddle broke, split end Putnal had the furthest “jog” to his position. As McWilliams narrated, he poked out to his spot, worn out. Jolly was calling signals, and Stan was too tired to take his stance. As the ball was snapped, Putnal was just leaning over, waving his arm down to the faraway ground. The entire team was rolling in our seats. Stan just sat there, with that wide, sheepish grin on his face.
Years later I was told Stan had become an artist. I checked out his web site and discovered amazingly detailed drawings, putting my high school cartoons and doodles to shame. Two things I really admire are those able to make the most of their God-given gifts, and fathers devoted to their children. Reading the obituary comments, it was apparent that Stan was quite successful in these important areas of life.
Many of you knew him much better than me. I’d love to have you share your thoughts and memories. Many years have passed, but it’s still sad to lose another classmate. And teammate.
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