Chapter 3: Orange/Blue Game / Wisconsin

Friday September 2
Chuck dropped me off for early morning practice. Word had gotten around, and nearly thirty boys were waiting for me on the practice field. When we started to draw a crowd, I talked Tim into coming in each morning to act as our coach. All the quarterbacks were here, so I had them do what Coach Mason had taught me. We got into two lines, and one quarterback threw to one side of the field, and the other quarterback would toss it to the other side. That way we could step up, throw the ball and then get back into line.

Tim’s job was to keep everything moving and call out the pass he wanted to see. I would occasionally stop practice and share my knowledge with my teammates. It was quickly becoming evident that a couple of boys stood out in the underclassman group. I made it a point to help them out a little more because I saw them as the future of our football program.

I also invited two quarterbacks to join me each day when I spent time with Coach Mason reviewing the practice footage. I wanted to expose them to Coach’s insights on what to look for in film study.

Coach Mason was happy because he saw that I’d shaken the rust off my game with the extra morning practices. That allowed him more time to explain why a play worked. I think it helped all of us when we understood that each man played a role. Everyone began finishing plays instead of going through the motions or taking off plays if the ball wasn’t going their way.

After practice, we all went to the cafeteria. Because of my agreement to pay off outstanding balances for families that couldn’t afford school lunches, the school now had enough funds to do breakfast. It wasn’t anything fancy. They always had cereal, oatmeal, and fresh fruit. Today they had scrambled eggs and bacon to go with it.

I hoped that we could at least provide two meals a day for the kids that needed it. I’d been appalled to learn that we had children going hungry right here in my community. The sad part was there were programs available to help them. The key was getting the information out to the ones that needed the help.

I used my breakfast time to study or just to reflect. I’d been thinking about what my uncle had asked me: what did I want my legacy to be? I knew I wanted to make a difference in people’s lives. There were four specific groups I focused on.

After my mom’s cancer scare, fighting that terrible disease was something that I wanted to work on. Maybe not by being a doctor, but by making sure they had the resources for researching cures and helping the families affected. The second was the pregnant teenagers and teenage moms who needed a safety net.

The third subject I was focused on was veterans because they’d volunteered to make our way of life possible. While talking to the director of the Homeless Coalition, I discovered that some vets fell through the cracks and ended up on the street. The sad part was that many of them had mental health problems and we’d turned our backs on that issue.

The last group was children and families below the poverty level. The hunger problem was just the start. If you were worried about food and housing, then you never got beyond that. There had to be ways for people to work themselves out of that situation. I knew that some people just wanted to game the system and live off their government handouts. They were the ones that put a bad taste in my mouth. I guess I couldn’t begrudge them if they didn’t see a way forward. I was sure that, if given the opportunity, the majority would work to make a better life for themselves and their families. They just needed to be shown how.

All these problems had been worked on for decades. In one of my history classes, we learned about John F. Kennedy. He said welfare should be ‘a hand up, not a handout.’ Somehow, we had to start helping people make a better life for themselves. We needed to see the number of people on welfare drop because of success stories and not see it grow year after year.

I was sort of caught in a Catch-22. It was clear that the problems were too big for an individual to solve. I also was beginning to believe that government wasn’t the answer. One example my grandfather pointed out to me was the debt in our state. They say the highway to Hell is paved with good intentions. My state thought that if they threw money at a problem, it would go away. Nine of the last twelve years they’d spent more than they brought in and had accumulated nearly $16 billion in debt. That wasn’t even the worst part. The state had over 200 billion dollars in unfunded pension and healthcare liabilities. If you broke it down by the number of taxpayers, they would each have to pony up $50,000 just to pay it off. I couldn’t see how we could tax our way out of that hole.

I knew they’d done what they thought was right. The question wasn’t whether the state government would either need a bailout or go bankrupt, but when.

Sometime soon the bills would become due, and the most vulnerable would suffer. I feared that when it happened, it would overwhelm the volunteer networks, and then people would get desperate.

Then again, maybe we should just kick that can down the road and let our children worry about it. Wait, that was me!

Getting in the way of any solution, no matter how easy or difficult, was the divisiveness in politics today. Everyone was out to get the other party. You had to toe the party line and sing from the same hymnal. When did we stop working together to solve the big problems and start just playing the blame game?

When I thought about all of that—the problems I wanted to solve, the government, the political environment—my head hurt. Did I really want to go into politics and try to clean up the mess that was being left for my generation? I might be better off sniping from the sidelines and working to secure my friends and family’s future.

I think I always knew I wasn’t one for the sidelines. What I suddenly understood was that when I went into politics, I would have to stand alone many times if I were to be true to myself and the people I represented. I just hoped I could stand up for my convictions. I’d seen too many politicians have grand ideas until they got the job. Then they did everything they could to keep it instead of what they truly believed in or were elected to do.

I took a deep breath. Was I ready for this? Apparently, the answer was no, not now. I had to laugh when I thought I might be prepared ‘someday.’ What the mental exercise did was help clarify things for me. I decided I didn’t really hate my uncle for posing tough questions. I’d been focused on the present, and it helped to step back and look at the big picture.

I realized that in the end it really didn’t matter if I did movies, played baseball or football. From each, there was a clear path to my ultimate goal. And who knew, I might figure out how to get there without going into politics. My grandfather had worked himself into power without ever having to take higher office.

The class I found myself looking forward to was Photography. I know I’m a ‘stupid boy’ and should have connected it with modeling. I’d absorbed a lot more than I realized about different lighting, filters, framing shots and the like. Ms. Saunders spent the first week talking to the four of us taking the class to find our level of knowledge. She then planned to work with us individually to help us improve our craft. Today was my day to find that path.

“I think you have a firm understanding of what makes a good picture of a person,” she started.

She’d shown me several portraits and more artistic photos and had me point out the flaws in each. Very few were perfect, but I’d seen thousands of photos and was now able to recognize what a good picture looked like. The other three people in my class would have to learn that before their photographs improved. I knew that because we were tasked with taking photos of people so Ms. Saunders could see what we could do. I’d sort of cheated and spent time with Halle before she left. She was my willing subject, and I got the benefit of her artistic side to help improve some shots.

“Where you are lacking is learning the technical side of photography,” she explained.

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“I’m going to give you an assignment to help you learn how to create a better image using high-dynamic-range, or HDR, imaging,” she said, then pulled out a photo.

The photo was of stained glass in a church. The problem was the sun was coming through, so the light from the window overpowered everything else. It caused the detail of the church interior to be faded.

She laid down four photographs of the same stained glass. From left to right, it was too dark to too bright.

“These were taken at -4 stop, -2 stop, +2 stop, and +4 stop,” she explained.

She then showed me a picture that captured the detail of the church and still showed the stained glass.

“Using HDR processing, we balanced the light with simple contrast reduction. Now look at this,” she said, showing me the last picture.

This one looked much better. It had more vibrant colors and made the one I thought was good before now look dull by comparison.

“This was done using local tone mapping,” she said.

“I didn’t realize you could make that much difference in a picture.”

“Your mom sells real estate, right?” she asked.

I nodded.

“Why don’t you see if you can shoot some of her houses for her? You’ll need a tripod, so your camera stays still while you take the picture at different stop settings. In fact, your camera has a function to take them in rapid-fire fashion to give you the images you need to run through the process,” she said, and then showed me how to do it.

We practiced in the classroom as I took a picture of the window. She took the four photos and showed me how to use the software to create a new picture that no longer had glare.

As I left for the day, I took a moment to appreciate that the class I thought would be the most boring was becoming interesting.

When I went to practice, Coach Hope stopped me.

“You have a visitor,” he said as he pointed to the coaches’ conference room.

I found Jeff, my favorite reporter, with his cameraman and someone I didn’t recognize.

“David, Andrew Cutter with Vicis; I have your new helmet, the Zero1 model. I’m here to make sure it’s fitted correctly.”

Tami had sent me to a helmet maker that was using modern technology that she thought would help lessen, if not prevent, concussions. Instead of a hard outer shell, they had created a multi-layer cushion system, much like a car bumper. The hard shell was inside the helmet. Tests had shown it was an innovative technology that was badly needed. The only problem was that right now they had to charge $1,500 for a helmet.

Andrew talked Jeff through the innovation and had a cutaway model of the helmet to show him. They had different-sized interior padding inserts that he used to fit the helmet to my head correctly. The only problem was the helmet was white. I would need to get it painted in our school colors before the Washington game.

“Do you plan on stress-testing it tonight?” Jeff asked.

“I hope to never have to test it.”

“Good answer,” Andrew agreed.

We were experiencing a late-summer heat wave, and it was still in the mid-80s at kickoff. It looked like the whole town had turned out for our game. I could smell the fresh-cut grass as I stretched. This was what I loved, game day. I knew this was just a practice game, but I was excited to finally not have to hold back.

We warmed up as a team and Tim, Yuri, Wolf, and Derek came up front to lead us. I invited Trent up because he was listed as the number-one quarterback. I figured that after tonight, Coach Hope would finally relent and let the players who played the best move into their positions.

To be honest, after sophomore year’s mess with the seniors and steroids, and junior year’s issues with hazing and Mike Herndon, I was pretty much over the drama. If Coach Hope was willing to face the Lincoln fans and explain why he was jerking our chains, let him. Jeff was documenting everything, and he was still writing articles for the local paper.

If it hadn’t been for Coach Mason, I might have been worried. He was spending most of his time with me. What he was teaching me was more valuable than messing with depth charts right now.

After we warmed up, we went to the visitors’ locker room. I found it amusing that Coach Hope was taking this so seriously. He put Coach Mason and Moose in charge of us. The Orange, aka first, team had the rest of the coaching staff helping them.

Coach Mason and Moose were talking, so I pulled the team together. I took a moment to look each one of them in the eye.

“Before the game, I was telling myself that it didn’t matter where I was on the depth chart. Looking around, I think you all should be on the first team. For whatever reason, we’re like that Christmas show with all the broken and unwanted toys,” I said as Moose and Coach Mason came and stood beside me.

Coach Mason nodded for me to continue.

“This is our chance to show that they need to rethink their perceptions. You’re being given an opportunity to prove that you belong as starters. Lincoln Bulldogs are known for their fight. Lincoln Bulldogs are winners. Being a Lincoln Bulldog means something. This is where our run for the State Championship begins.

“I know this game doesn’t count in the record books, and our opponent is our teammates, but I don’t plan to lose. I want us to dominate. I want you to fire off the ball and show them that they made a mistake holding you back. Seize this opportunity. Take it in your bulldog jaws and don’t let go.

“Bring it in,” Coach Mason said, and we put our hands in the middle.

“Who are we?” I yelled.

“Bulldogs!” my teammates responded.

“Where are we?”

“Our House!”

“Let’s stroll on out there like we own this place,” Wolf said.

Someone started the chant ‘Our House’ as we walked out of the locker room. It was subdued at first and gradually got louder.

“Our House! Our House!”

We heard the band playing our school song as the Orange team ran onto the field. I stopped us at the edge of the building to give them their moment.

“Line up four across,” Wolf ordered.

I smiled. I liked how he was doing this. Once he had us organized, we began to move forward as a team. The crowd had started to calm down, and as the ringing of those damned cowbells subsided, they could hear us chanting ‘Our House.’ When we reached the goal line, Tim and Wolf linked arms with me as we marched out. The crowd took up the chant.

“Our House! Our House!”

It was fun to see the first-teamers’ smiles drop off their faces. Several of them knew their days were numbered, and we were there to take what was ours.

I think Moose and Coach Mason appreciated that we walked. Coach Mason was in his 70s, and Moose was near retirement. They had us gather around on the visitors’ sideline.

“That was different,” Coach Mason said.

“Just remember, they’re your teammates, and we’ll need them when the season starts,” Moose said.

“That doesn’t mean to go easy on them; it means no cheap shots,” Coach Mason said.

The referee came over.

“We need someone for the coin toss.”

“David, go deal with that,” Moose said. “And David, get us the damn ball. I want to put seven on them right away.”

We won the coin toss and got the ball. For a practice game, they decide to skip kickoffs and punts to avoid injuries. We were starting on our 20 yard line. Right before we took the field, my stomach revolted. I stepped to the side, jerked my helmet off and threw up. The Lincoln fans stood up and cheered. They knew that meant they were about to see something special. I was ready.

We already had the first three plays called. Coach Mason wanted us to go quick. I lined up under center with Bert at fullback and Kelly at tailback. Wolf was lined up next to the tackle as my tight end. My half brother Phil was the wide receiver on Wolf’s side, and Roc was on the other.

“Down!”

Wolf stood up, stepped back, and motioned for Phil to move forward to take his spot on the line.

“Set!”

Wolf came in motion towards me. I watched to see how the defense reacted. When no one moved, I knew they were in their base zone defense. If the outside linebacker had followed Wolf, they would be in man-to-man. When Wolf reached me, he stopped and turned towards the line.

“Hut, HUT!”

Coach Mason’s plan was to make them respect the run. If they had to worry about that, then my play-action passing game would eat them up.

On the snap, Wolf shot through the hole and was met by their linebacker. Wolf was six-five and 235 pounds. He’d lost weight over the summer but hadn’t lost any of his strength. Their linebacker was five-eleven and 185 pounds. I give the kid credit for taking Wolf head-on. Even I wouldn’t want to do that. Wolf put the kid on his butt and was looking for his next victim when Bert flew by him and crushed the safety. Kelly was right on his tail and neatly stepped around them and was gone.

I jogged down to the other side of the field to play defense. Coach Hope had them run the same play against us. Don Crown was their tight end, and he shot through the hole to block me. I tossed him to the side and Ed hit me. Ty was right behind him, and he juked to step around us. Unfortunately, he stepped towards Tim who was there to clean up the play for only a three-yard gain.

On the next play, they ran the sweep to my side. Don was looking for a little payback and was waiting for me as I sprinted down the line to contain Ty. I gave him a head fake, and he lunged. I neatly stepped around him. Yuri had Ty running for his life. If I were him, I would have just run out of bounds and taken the small gain. Ty was an All-State running back for a reason. He stopped on a dime and cut back. I won’t repeat what Yuri said, but he was all smiles when I exploded into Ty.

“What the hell, Dawson,” Ty complained.

“Next time just run out of bounds,” I said, and he gave me a look. “No, seriously. I know what you’re capable of. Sometimes it’s better to just take what the defense gives you.”

I knew he wouldn’t listen to my advice now, but after the game, he would think about it. I wanted Ty to play with me all year, not get hurt early in the season for a stupid reason.

It was now a passing down. I had planned to tell Trent about his tells— dropping his right foot and staring at the receiver he intended to throw to—but Tim had reminded me he was going to be our opponent tonight. I’d fill him in Monday morning at our voluntary practice.

Tim saw it when Trent dropped his foot and looked at Ed. He raised his fist and looked at Yuri, who’d seen it as well. On the snap, Tim shot a gap to chase Trent down. I stepped back to cover the middle of the field. Don made a shallow cut and started to cross in front of me. Since he was within five yards of the line of scrimmage, I could touch him. I popped him in the shoulder pads and sent him sprawling.

Trent saw that Yuri had snuck out to help cover Ed, so he looked for his second option, Don. Tim was in his face, and I’m not sure what Trent was thinking. He tossed the ball toward where Don should have been. It was almost out of my reach, so I dove for the ball. I thought I got it, but the back judge ruled that I’d trapped it.

For punts, they moved the ball forty yards downfield, so we were starting on our 38 yard line.

This time, they solved the puzzle of our running up the middle by bringing a safety up to defend against the run. As soon as I saw that, I changed the play at the line.

“Orange, Ooorange!”

Wolf shifted to the slot, and Phil lined up behind him.

“Blue!”

... I called, and the ball was snapped. The defense scrambled to rush me. Our tackle let the defensive end go, and I held the ball as long as I could before I tossed it to Phil for the bubble screen. The tackle shot downfield to get into position to block while Wolf took on the safety. Phil cut inside and got behind the tackle, who got a piece of the outside linebacker. The kid made a heroic effort and caught Phil’s ankle, or he would have been gone.

Coach Rector was determined to prevent the run as he put eight men in the box again. I just called our run/pass option (RPO) plays. That way I didn’t have to be obvious that we were passing. As we marched downfield, I hit Phil, Roc, and finally Wolf for the score.

On the next series, they rode Ty’s talent down the field. Tim, Yuri, and I made him earn it, but he was probably the best running back in the state. He finally broke a big one when he pushed all the buttons on his Xbox and did this spin, hop, and juke move that left me shaking my head as I completely whiffed when I tried to tackle him.

When I got up, Tim was there to lend a hand.

“What was that?” I asked.

“I have no idea, but let’s just be happy that we don’t have to play him next week.”

Ty had moved here from Washington. He was right. If Ty were on their team, he would have me worried.

Towards the end of the half, it looked like everyone was sucking air except for Yuri, Roc, Phil and me. We’d been practicing in 90+ degree weather in both Houston and Monterrey, Mexico. We were up 28–14 with forty seconds left. Coach Mason wanted to see if we could maybe get a first down and then pick up enough yards for a field goal.

I tossed the ball off to Kelly so he could run off tackle. He picked up five yards. I told them that I wanted them to hustle to the line so I could spike the ball to stop the clock if Kelly didn’t make it out of bounds. We only had one timeout left, and Coach Mason wanted to save it for the field goal.

We hurried to the line, and I saw the defense was standing around with their hands on their hips. I made sure everyone was set and had the center hike the ball. Instead of taking a step back to spike it, I stepped between the center and guard and sprinted upfield, and the defense was slow to react. When you had someone with my size, you didn’t expect them to be as fast as I was. I was ten yards downfield before anyone touched me. The safety tried to dive for my legs and bounced off my thigh as I powered past him. From there it was a footrace that I wasn’t going to lose. We went into halftime up 35–14.

The second half was more like a practice so we could work on problems and issues the coaches spotted during the first half. They ended up having us run sprints because they weren’t happy that the heat had caused us so much trouble. When we combined teams, we would have enough depth to give players rests when needed. Still, it’s always good when your best players have enough gas in the tank to play the entire game if they have to. Cassidy had her work cut out for her.

After the game, Coach Mason showed me my numbers compared to Trent. Trent had completed 2 of 13 passes, been sacked four times and hurried five more. He’d thrown two interceptions and fumbled the ball once. I’d gone 15 for 16, thrown three touchdowns and run for another. He didn’t make any comment but nodded to me.

Tim, Wolf, and I met our dads in the parking lot. Paul loaded our gear in the back. Somehow Dad had forgotten that I’d called shotgun and parked his butt in the front seat next to Paul. They sent the three of us to the back row with Mr. Foresee and Mr. Tams in the center row.

As we pulled out of the parking lot, I turned around and moved some stuff so I could find what I was looking for.

Tim gave me a shove.

“What are you doing?” he complained.

“Score! My mom came through for us,” I said as I opened the cooler.

Something Fritz had added was a cooler that could be plugged in. Inside I found subs and bottled water. Tim wasn’t quite so grumpy when he saw what I had.

As we ate, I pulled up information on Wisconsin on my tablet.

“They currently have five tight ends on their roster and have signed two recruits. That Fumagalli kid is a stud, and he’s a junior.”

“They said I might need to redshirt,” Wolf shared.

“At inside linebacker, they have eight players with no seniors. The good news is none of them are rated as high as you are. The two freshmen have no stars.”

The recruiting services rated players by stars. Five-star players were the best-of-the-best. Four stars meant they would be solid college players and probably start for three years. Three stars were very good. Most Power Five schools tried to recruit three-star or better players. Anyone under a three-star didn’t receive any stars. It didn’t mean they couldn’t play college ball. It just meant they would be hit-or-miss and probably a project.

“What about quarterback?” Tim asked.

“All seniors except for one freshman and three recruits. They’re all three-star recruits.”

It took us almost four hours to drive to Madison. When we were close, Paul pulled into a gas station. Of course, I had to get out and stretch my legs. Paul put me in charge of filling the gas tank. Dad came out of the convenience store before everyone else with some sort of snack.

“Did you get enough for everyone?” I asked to remind him of our family rule.

He opened his bag, and I was confused as to what the orange lumps were.

“Cheese curds,” Dad explained.

I took a couple out and tried them. The first thing I noticed was that when you bit into them they squeaked. It was the strangest sensation as they clung to your teeth for a moment.

“That’s how you know they’re fresh,” Dad explained.

I would have to get a supply and take them home with me.

We were soon back on the road and then at the hotel. I looked at my watch and saw it was after two in the morning. I was surprised when Paul and Dad shared a room. Of course, I wasn’t offering to share. I was too used to having my own hotel room when I was on the road. Tim and Wolf originally planned to room with their dads, but I suggested they do it by age. I think the dads were more relieved than their sons.

I was irritated when my ‘no smoking’ room smelled like an ashtray, but I was too tired to complain.

I found a flyer on my bedside table. It said, ‘David Dawson: Unofficial Visit Timeline.’ It listed what we would be doing tomorrow and Sunday.

Saturday
Photo Shoot
Tour Camp Randall Stadium / Football Facilities
Bus to Lambeau Field, Green Bay, WI
Game 2:30 Kickoff
Bus back to Madison

Sunday
Tour Campus
Academics
Meet the Coaches
Commit to Wisconsin

I chuckled at the last one. Mom always said you had to ask for the sale.

Something not on the list was us working out for the team, or for that matter any team on upcoming trips. By NCAA rule you could work out with team members, but it had to be organized by them and them alone. No coaches could be present. I talked to Wolf and Tim and we agreed that we might get in a workout, but we didn’t plan to put on a display of our skills. If the coaching staff wanted that type of information, they had access to our game films and could attend practice back at Lincoln High. This took the pressure off us, so the focus was on learning about the school and everything they had to offer. I was in bed and asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow.

Saturday September 3
Because this was, in essence, an away game, we three were the only recruits here this weekend. We were also on an unofficial visit, so that meant they couldn’t spend any money on us except for giving us game tickets. They wanted all their recruits on official visits to come to home games so they would get the game-day experience. I personally wasn’t looking forward to a bus ride from Madison to Lambeau Field in Green Bay, but this was the only weekend we could fit Wisconsin in.

We were met by a group of coaches: Coach Paul – Head Coach, Coach Sleigh – Assistant Head Coach / Offensive Coordinator, Coach Lennart – Defensive Coordinator, Coach Boss – Inside Linebackers and Coach Chet – Tight Ends. I was glad we’d stopped at the local student bookstore and bought Wisconsin t-shirts to show our school spirit.

Tim had a great suggestion and eased my mind about wasting money.

“We should hang them on our bedroom walls to remind us of everywhere we’ve been.”

“We could mount them on square pieces of wood and attach hardware on the back so we could hang them,” Wolf suggested.

“Maybe Artist Boy could figure out something to make it look nice,” Tim said, looking at me.

“Let me think about it,” I offered.

I figured that between the three of us, we could come up with something cool.

We walked in with our dads, and all had on red Wisconsin t-shirts. Coach Paul saw us as we walked in and smiled.

“I see you have good taste,” he said to greet us.

Introductions were made.

“I’m sorry this is such a short introduction, but we have to be leaving to play a football game. Normally we would spend more time with you today, but I wanted to meet you all and let you know that you’re each a priority for Wisconsin football,” Coach Paul assured us.