96-0

I always remember our 9th grade football team, my first year playing on the school team. Over 51 years ago, in the fall of 1973. George DuBose was our quarterback. No one called him George – he was known to all as DuBose. He reminded me of Joe Namath, with his shaggy hair and laid back attitude. Good passing arm, but you’d never mistake him for a scrambler like Fran Tarkenton.

For our first road game we loaded up on the yellow “cheese hound” school bus. Stern old coach WC Jones in the driver’s seat. He had gone over all the normal instructions before the bus pulled out. As we rambled down the road, from the back of the bus came the unmistakable voice of Dubose: “Hey coach! Gotta pee!”

For one practice we crossed the street from our field in front of the Lanier B girls building, over to Swan Field to scrimmage the older B team. As talented as our 9th grade team was, we took a beating from the older, larger, 10th and 11th graders. As we gathered our pride and wordlessly limped back across the street, Dubose opined: “No wonder I have weak knees”.

While we went on to win the state championship two years later, at reunions we’d discuss our legendary 9th grade team just as much. Undefeated. City champions. DuBose was joined in the backfield by prototypical fullback Randy Rutherford and tough as nails tailback Ray Patterson. They doubled as middle linebackers. A menacing offensive line anchored by center Paul Conner, guards Dallas Foster and Ken Lee, and tackles Greg “Bull” Williams and Edward Bussey. Bussey was so skinny that if he turned sideways he would disappear, but he was the toughest of the tough five.

Speedy fast Stan Putnal was the split end. Baby brother of UGA wide receiver Rex, and Tech linebacker Greg. Tight end Tracy Curtis was a gentle giant off the field, but a beast on it. He played like former UGA TE Darnell Washington. Curtis and Bussey would go on to play varsity basketball, not football. Tracy went on to coach in Jackson Georgia. After 9th grade, Dallas quit football to play tennis.

Before one practice some of were messing around, kicking field goals. A few years before, kicking had become my hobby, something I did most days at home after school. It happened to be the day Coach Jones had us work on special teams. Big Greg Williams had kicked for the 8th grade team, so he was given the first chance. As he stood, he warmed up by kicking his right foot backward, almost to his butt cheek. Looked like a Bull getting ready to charge. Maybe that’s how he got his nickname. Not sure. He kicked a few wobblers.

DuBose spoke up: “Murphy can kick!” Bless his heart. I kicked. Soon the kicking job was mine.

Later during the season we practiced field goals – a rarity before B-team and varsity. We all lined up. Snap. The defense rushed. Hold. I kicked. With my right leg still up in the air, the onrushing Bull Williams charged in and knocked me to the ground. Pretty sure it wasn’t because I had beaten him out as the kicker. I think.

I hit head first. Pretty sure I wasn’t even wearing an old suspension style helmet. Just an old helmet with foam padding. When I woke up, I was laying on the ground, looking up to the sky. The entire team was circled around, looking down at me. I was helped up. Practice continued.

One Thursday afternoon the Georgia Military College sent their B team over from Milledgeville. We sent them home losers, winning 66-0. A few weeks later we traveled east to play them in their stadium. The building in the east end zone was the former Georgia state capitol building. Cheerleaders on the sidelines.

Two cadets did pushups after bad plays. They gave out after the first quarter. By halftime we had equaled the score from our previous game: 66-0. The stadium wall ran just behind the west end zone, so the extra points I kicked sailed out of the stadium onto the street. Final score: Central 96, GMC 0. A state record that may still stand.

Over 45 years later I happened to find myself in Milledgeville, so I looked up GMC on Waze. The old stadium hadn’t changed much. Quite the game to remember.

Have I shared these stories before?

WALTER JOHNSON [SABR Bio] is the only pitcher to collect 150 extra-base hits as a batter. His 157 XBH is ten more than the closest candidate. His age 25 season is perhaps the single greatest pitching year in MLB history. In 1913, Johnson led the majors with a record of 36-7, a .837 winning percentage. He had 243 strikeouts, 29 complete games, 11 shutouts, and 346 innings pitched. He is the only pitcher to start at least 600 games and who played for only one major league team, with 666 starts for the original AL Washington Senators.

DENISON: you were made to live a meaningful life. You don’t want to waste your time on what doesn’t matter. Unlike everything else God created, you were fashioned to partner with him, by protecting and promoting his creation (Genesis 2:15). Next to fears related to survival and family, your greatest concern is that your life will not have been significant when it’s done, that you won’t have made a difference that matters. So, according to psychologists, are we all. A cultural psychologist encourages us to develop close relationships, connect to a larger community, engage in work that provides a sense of purpose and mastery, and connect spiritually with God so we feel we are part of “something larger than the material world.”