Coonridge Digest: Holy cow! What a play!

Greetings from the Ridge.
It seldom happens at our level of high school football, but last week the local fans had put up with enough and a spectator was asked to leave the game. In fact, he’s been asked to stay away for the rest of the season. Sam Manker will be listening to the games at home for the rest of the year.
Sam’s two boys played football for the Coonridge Carps and were always known as hard-nosed, well-disciplined players. This made it even harder for us to understand why Sam had become so obnoxious as a fan.
When his boys graduated and one went on to play college ball, Sam kept attending our local games. In fact, he’d become a bit of an institution, always arriving early, thermos of coffee in hand, blanket across his lap and his worn blue and gold “Carps” cap on his head.
Nobody knew more about the game than Sam and his ability to diagnose a faltering offense or predict a pass play was next to mystical. Some said that Sam would have been a great coach.
All of which added to the mystery of his becoming such an insufferable fan.
Let’s lay things out plainly – this is Midwest high school football.
Friday night is our reason for enduring Monday through Thursday. Those aren’t just our kids out there; they’re our family’s hopes and dreams.
Call it a game if you wish, for us, it’s serious business. Sam just didn’t get it.
The man would cheer for anybody. I mean absolutely anybody. No matter how tight the score, Sam would rise to his feet and cheer for either team to reward a good play. You could write this off to good sportsmanship if the score wasn’t tied, but when it’s fourth and one with seconds left on the clock, we’d just as soon you leave your nobility at home and become rabid like the rest of us.
Sam cheers for cheerleaders when they pull of a truly tendon bending stunt. He stays in the stands at half-time and cheers for the Pom-pon squad when they do their dance. The idiot’s been known to encourage referees when they call an accurate but unpopular play. Good grief.
Sam cheers for the band when the trumpeter hits the high B-flat at the climax of the National Anthem.
Last week it hit the fan – literally. The Carps were playing their age-old rivals, the Hubberville Howitzers, and the league standings were up for grabs — the same rivalry as the Gallatin- Hamilton matchup looming this Friday night. The Coonridge boys had battled their way to a 12-12 tie after three hard quarters of muddy combat, and with seven seconds on the clock a Hubberville boy got the ball, broke three tackles, and fell victoriously into the end zone. It was a move that’s destined be replayed time and time again in the Howitzer locker rooms, and I’ll admit that the young Howitzer made a Herculean effort to secure his team’s victory.
We were crushed. After a streak of four years losing to our rivals, we finally had a shot at winning, and this young running back ground our hopes into the sandy turf at Carp Field. The Hubber- ville stands exploded in a burst of euphoria while the Coonridge dreams took another dive into the Midwest sod. That’s when Sam stood up and cheered.
“What a play! Did you see that boy break those tackles? Holy cow! What a play! What a play!”
As they say in real estate, the secret is location, location, and location. Sam’s chosen location for watching football games was smack-dab in the middle of the parents’ bleachers. It was bad enough that he was openly applauding the achievement of a young man who had the poor taste to wear the wrong color uniform, but he was doing right in the midst of motherhood united.
Someone told me after the game that Sam was lucky to be simply barred from the rest of the season. There were blanket-clutching matrons who had serious designs on his very life that night.
The high school principal was able to reach the hapless encourager just before the joy of motherhood ended his term on earth. Zada Rubert (whose son had missed the first tackle) had her umbrella raised with the pointy end aimed squarely at Sam’s back, and the Coonridge quarterback’s aunt Louise was holding her thermos at a threatening angle just as the administrator grabbed Sam’s coattail and hauled him to the safety of his car.
Sam explained later that he hoped there were no hard feelings. He said, “When I get to watchin’ a game I plumb forget who’s playing. Just the sight of them young folks pourin’ out their hearts and souls makes me want to stand and cheer.”
Sam just doesn’t get it.
You ever in Coonridge, stop by. We may not answer the door, but you’ll enjoy the trip.