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Football Anecdotes and Tall Tales


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A coworker acquaintance related to me his sad story of riding the bench for all four years of his Division III college football career.  Seeing his senior year going  the same as the other three years, he enlisted friends, relatives, and neighbours and THEIR friends, relatives, and neighbours to pack the stands at the final home game.  "If I haven't gotten in by halftime, start the chant 'We want Benton!  We want Benton!' in the third quarter" were his instructions, and apparently even unknown fans took up the cause with great gusto.  This chant would start, gain momentum, then die out.  Anytime the ball changed hands, the faithful again took up Benton's cause.  Benton sat on the bench, wrapped in one of those big blanket parkas from the early 70s looking resolute; he didn't dare look at the coach.  Finally with about 4 minutes to go in the game and reportedly the entire home crowd chanting, the coach yells down the bench "Benton!  Come down here!"  Up jumps Benton, throws off the parka, sprints down to where the coach was, and says "YES SIR?!"  Coach looks at him and says "Go see what they want."

 

It was a good story, but I read it years later in a magazine in a dentist's office, I think a Reader's Digest.  Whether it was Benton scrambling details, or he had pilfered the story, I don't know.  Haven't seen him since the late 80s.

 

Anyone here crossed paths with Benton?  Or do you have a 'Benton like' story, or one of your own stories?

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That's so funny, straight up mean. DIII coaches are so bad from my experience.

 

Played DIII soccer, I remember my coach was a total idiot. We'd ironically tailgate the football games like it was DI I specifically remember heckling the coach for punting with it with somebody who apparently never punted in his life. He shanked it 4 times for 10-20 yards max in a row. I yealled "just go for it you can't punt and that 10 is nothing with your defense." The look he gave me.. I made damn sure I was never taking a class of his, easy or not.

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I wasn't a jock, but one time at band camp.

Okay, that never happened either.  Wasn't into sports or band. 

 

I was more like the antisocial kid that wore black and everybody thought would shoot up the school.  But that's just me, I scored low on the empathy test

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Just before my freshman year in HS I needed an operation on my foot and missed the football year. Just before my sophomore year they had to do the operation over and I missed another year.  In a scrimmage against another school as a junior a kid rolled into my right leg. It HURT! I kept going but it wasn’t the same. Our trainer/english teacher acted like I was a puss. He kept taping it every day before practice. Kept hurting, he taped higher. He got fed up with me and one day forgot the pre-tape. OUCH! Now I’m ripping my hairy leg bald. 

 

I go back (to the former Braves orthopedic) for follow up on my foot on the opposite leg. I walk in limping, but on the wrong leg. He sends me down for X-rays. If there is any joy in this story, it is when I limped into my english teacher/trainer who clearly thought I was a wimp and said “yeah, the tape didn’t help because I HAVE A BROKEN LEG!” I thought he might throw up! 

 

Senior year....I had a car and a girlfriend and I wanted no part of their crap! Sadly, part of me knows I could have owned even most of the best kids on that team, but that’s life and we’ll never know.... My glory years were just a little different. 

 

 

 

.

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I got an anonymous letter once. From a parent. Said they were kinda bummed out the boys only had two weeks off before summer conditioning began. Normally they get 3. We have them a week at the beginning of the semester instead of the end.

 

It’s Division ONE FOOTBALL! It’s the BIG TWELVE!!! It ain’t intramurals.

 

In short I said Go play intramurals brotha

Go play intramurals..

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Not a football story but here goes.

 

A couple friends and I went to a practice round at the Memorial Tournament in Dublin, Ohio in 1992. Sometime in mid-afternoon, a thunderstorm rolled through, and everyone got off the course. I ended up spending some time with Rocco Mediate—a whole other story—while my buddies took cover. Most of the fans left. We decided to wait to see if practice would resume.

 

And it did! About 4:30 or so, the skies cleared up, and Tom Watson came out to “get nine holes in,” as he told us and the few other people still there.

 

What a cool guy! We pretty much left him alone, but whenever he was near us behind the ropes—which wasn’t often—he acknowledged the few fans there. 

 

On some green—I wanna say the par five that clears the little creek but don’t recall which hole—he came to the rough behind the green six or eight feet from where we were standing and started dropping balls. It was straight downhill, and try as he might, he couldn’t stop the ball within about ten feet of the cup. We assimed he was weighing the risk of going for the green in two and ending up over the green vs. laying up.

 

Anyway, after about a dozen balls, I leaned to my buddy and said within earshot of Watson, “I think I could get within six feet or so.”

 

Watson stopped, looked down, slowly turned to me, and smiled:

 

”Yep. That would be why you’re on that side of the rooes.”

 

 

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A few years ago, I interviewed a guy for a managerial position with our company.  Noticing my Buffalo Bills iPhone case, he mentioned he once played DI football and took handoffs from a QB who went on to be the starting QB for the Bills (I'll leave names out).  

 

Well, I thought, I'm not hiring this guy.  He's full of tall tales.  Integrity is important to me and this guy's clearly a bull-sh*tter.


Then I looked up his name on YouTube and, sure enough, there he was  breaking tackles and running for touchdowns.  He was actually a pretty dynamic player in college.    

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56 minutes ago, hondo in seattle said:

A few years ago, I interviewed a guy for a managerial position with our company.  Noticing my Buffalo Bills iPhone case, he mentioned he once played DI football and took handoffs from a QB who went on to be the starting QB for the Bills (I'll leave names out).  

 

Well, I thought, I'm not hiring this guy.  He's full of tall tales.  Integrity is important to me and this guy's clearly a bull-sh*tter.


Then I looked up his name on YouTube and, sure enough, there he was  breaking tackles and running for touchdowns.  He was actually a pretty dynamic player in college.    

You'd need a quantum computer to calculate all the permutations of Bills starting QBs and their college RBs over the last 17 years

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On 6/30/2018 at 11:18 PM, Augie said:

Just before my freshman year in HS I needed an operation on my foot and missed the football year. Just before my sophomore year they had to do the operation over and I missed another year.  In a scrimmage against another school as a junior a kid rolled into my right leg. It HURT! I kept going but it wasn’t the same. Our trainer/english teacher acted like I was a puss. He kept taping it every day before practice. Kept hurting, he taped higher. He got fed up with me and one day forgot the pre-tape. OUCH! Now I’m ripping my hairy leg bald. 

 

I go back (to the former Braves orthopedic) for follow up on my foot on the opposite leg. I walk in limping, but on the wrong leg. He sends me down for X-rays. If there is any joy in this story, it is when I limped into my english teacher/trainer who clearly thought I was a wimp and said “yeah, the tape didn’t help because I HAVE A BROKEN LEG!” I thought he might throw up! 

 

Senior year....I had a car and a girlfriend and I wanted no part of their crap! Sadly, part of me knows I could have owned even most of the best kids on that team, but that’s life and we’ll never know.... My glory years were just a little different. 

 

 

 

.

I have a similar sad tale. Sophomore year, first game, first play I’m in for I sack the QB. Second play one of the fat kids up front, teammate is pushed over into the side of my right knee.

 

I limp off after the doc wiggles my knee back and forth. It looked bad from my angle. Spent the rest of the night on the bench. Game over & I look around. No coaches, just a couple friends from the team so I hobble the 1/2 mile back to the school.

 

Monday we’re back in the same docs office. He again wiggles my knee. Tells me and mom that I’m good to go on Friday and sends us on our way. Once outside I told my mother that there was no way I could play, I knew my knee was messed up.

 

She calls her cousin who is married to a doctor with privileges at Mercy. He calls an orthopod there and I have an appointment on Wednesday.  On Thursday I underwent a 5 hour reconstruction.

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