Worst Football Team of All Time

My wife and I traveled up to UT this past Memorial Day Weekend with a truckload of our daughter Ari's STUFF. Ari is finishing her education in the Beehive State and 'needed' these things for her new apartment. But, that is another story. During our visit, my younger sister, Karen, had a little surprise for me. Six years ago our beloved Granny passed away. After her death many of her belongings and keepsakes scattered to various family members. Unknown to me, Karen had stored away some old photos and clippings of my younger days that she had received from Granny. Now these reminders of days gone by are in my possession, one of which is the pic below from the fall of 1970. This is the story for tonight's post........

The Rams. [Check out number 61]

I was in 9th grade in 1970, in my second season of Little League Football. Organized youth football was a new thing in Spanish Fork, having had it's inaugural season 2 years before. My parents would not allow me to play that first year, fearing injury. My best buddy, Steve B and I, convinced the folks to let us play the next year. So, my stint with the Rams was year two of my football experience. Another one of my best friends, Ronnie Hair (#66 with glasses) was on the squad. WE WERE AWFUL! Our QB stunk (sorry Leon), we couldn't tackle, we didn't block, we rarely even scored a point! WE WERE TERRIBLE. Worst of all, we weren't having any fun. I was starting to hate football. Our coach, Coach Creer, hated us, justifiably so. We goofed around at practice and really didn't give a crap. We were just playing out the string. After another shut-out defeat on the second to last game of the season, Coach Creer gathered us under the lights for a little team meeting. He told us how bad we stunk and he had had enough and couldn't take it anymore. He said that he would not be embarrassed by us anymore! He said, "I quit, you can coach yourselves." He strode off into the darkness, leaving us behind in shocked silence. He disappeared from our lives, forever. In that brief moment of solitude, I felt guilt, sadness and anger all at the same time. Sure, we couldn't beat the Indians from Mexican Hat, but hey, our coach quit on us. In that brief moment before panic set in, Glen Thorpe, our walk-on assistant coach, said, "Guys, I'll coach you. I won't give up on you." Wow, we were rescued! We were saved! We still would be able to play our last game! But, was that a good thing? Coach Glen was just a high school kid who didn't know much more about football than we did, but he led us through practice that next week. Finally, the season finale arrived. We blocked, we tackled, we ran, we had a blast, but we still didn't score a point! But, we gutted it out until the final gun......... and battled our opponent to a 0-0 scoreless tie!!!  We couldn't score, but damn it, neither did the other team! We danced like football gods across the gridiron, rushing towards Coach Thorpe. It was exquisite jubilation! We carried our Coach-for-a-Week off the field upon or shoulders like we had just won the Super Bowl! I haven't seen Glen Thorpe in over 40 years, but I will always love and admire him for what he did. He stepped up and we followed him. He taught us to never give up, no matter the odds. What a great lesson for a group of 14 year-olds to learn. Thanks, Glen, wherever you are!