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A BigConcussion
It was Oct 20. 1978, and the BigCat was playing the Middle Linebacker spot for the 7-0 Clarke County
Eagles. To that point in the season the Eagles had dominated the league and out scored opponents 190 –
14. No joke. I was pissed we gave up two TDs the week before. We were playing the arch Rivals, the
Handley Judges. We were at our peak and the BigCat was as Big and Bad as he would ever be. Going
out on the filed I knew it was it was time to take some heads. I was going out to hurt somebody.. From here
on Im relying on a composite of various accouts (including 8mm film) to weave this story. It was early in the
4th quarter and we were up 21-14 and they were driving. There was a fumble in the open field and their
tight end was about 3 yards from the ball. The BigCat was about 5 yards off. A race to the free ball
ensued. Both bodys went into launch mode. The helmets met in an eerie thud and then silence. He ended
up with the ball… (Small piece of my memory here) I got up shaking my head and walked to the huddle with
the guys in the red shirts. Something was strange, oh yea, we were wearing white. Whoops… The ref
pushed me back to my side of the line. (my memory fads out here).
“So whats the play?” the strong safety asked the BigCat.
“Ahhh. Im not sure… What do we do. I don’t know what to call” the BigCat replying in utter confusion.
“Look on your arm pad”
“Where”
“On your arm, stupid”
“Oh yea… I don’t know what it means”
The weak side linebacker grabbed the dazed one by the arm, looked at the pad and said
“52 Stack Red cover, ready break”. And the Eagle defensive unit set up for a big 3rd down play.
“Rick, what do I do? Where do I play?” BigCat questioned and panic stuper.
Ricky Longerbeam grabbed the guy seeing stars and put him right behind the left defensive tackle. He
pointed to the guard tackle gap and said “If someone comes in that hole you hit him. You got it.”
“Yea, I got it.”
Several years later I talked to the Handley coach about what happened next. He told me they had been
setting me up all night. He thought is was time to run a counter trap play that would catch me out of position
because he said I had been over pursuing to the outside. This would hopefully spring his running back for
a big gain.
The play was to run through the guard-tackle gap. Lots of misdirection and excellent ball fakes by their QB
would have normally drawn an overly aggressive linebacker out of position. But not one with a cranial
dent. Surprise… the BigCat didn’t move. Not a little. He just waited and a guy with the ball showed up in
the hole.
“Yea I was supposed to hit’em if the came into the hole”, the BigCats mind pondered. Almost instinctive the
BigCat unloads a punishing blow on the scat back.
“Ferrell makes the tackle for no gain. And the Eagles hold again. Its 4th and 8 for the Judges” crackled the
public address system over thundering crowd.
The Strong safety gabbed the bobbing BigCat and lead him to the sidelines.
“Coach, I think he is messed up, he doesn’t know the plays any more. I don’t think he knows where he is”
proclaimed the teammate.
“Doc, take a look at him”, commanded the short stocky coach of West Virginian and Sicilian descent.
Docter Tom Iden did the usual questions and visual acuity checks and quietly prounced the game over for
the BigCat. He lead Eagles leading tackler over to the bench and sat beside him calmly.
After a few moments. “Can I go back in now doc. We are on offense and they need me do some blocking.
“I don’t think your ready to go back in, son. I think your done for the night” stated the doctors whose very
voice seemed to provide healing.
A few more min passed. “Can I go back in now doc. We are on offense and they need me to do some
blocking”
Doctor Iden just chucked and said you stay her for a bit and I will be right back.
As the good doctor disapeard into the crowed sideline of players, my older brother appeared on the bench
beside me. No doubt he had been sent from the stands by my extremely concerned mother. The doctor,
the bench and the BigCat are an unlikely convergence. Thus she sent her envoy to check out the
situation.
“What are you doing here”, asked the BigCat
“I came down to check on your. Are you OK” my brother asked.
“Im fine. Doc, says I can go back in… Hey we are punting. I gotta go.” And the BigCat headed back to the
field. “Coach, Doc says I’m ready” he told the Siclian.
“Next play, go 52 triple stack monster”
“I got it.” Shouted the BigCat.
About 10 steps onto the field and the strong hands of the doctor gabbed the BigCats #41 jearsey and held
him in place. “He’s done for the night coach”.
“Somebody get him back to the bench” the coach barked.
And there I sat for the remained of the game. My brother getting the order to not let me get up. The time
passed and the score slipped to their favor. The game over my brother led me to the center of the field to
shake hands. Offering the “Good game” to everyone, even the ballboy. Almost everyone was now off the
field and I turned to my brother and asked. “Did we win”.
“No you lost”, my brother said somberly
“Oh no we lost, we lost” and I fell to my knees and sobbed.
My brother consoled me and picked me up and led me to the locker room. On the walk I asked if we won a
couple more times. The answer was the same followed by the inconsolable blubbering until forgot what I
was blubbering about.
In the locker room the same question over and over the same response. It was quite tiresome and
frustrating for my teammates. So they left me in the sitting on the floor sobbing in defeat. Now that is my
picture of the agony of defeat. Except I cant remember any of it. I lost three complete days of my memory
and an undetermined amount of mental capacity.
On the following Monday afternoon when I went to practice I opened my locker and found my helmet. I little
inspection revealed the hit had cracked the helmet. The moral of the story. Well no moral… but it confirms
what my mother has always said, I have a very hard head.
