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Chapter 6

we stood in a circle in the enormous gray morning, all the receivers and offensive backs, helmets in hands. Thunder moved down from the northeast. Creed, in a transparent raincoat, was already up in the tower. At the center of the circle was Tom Cook Clark, an assistant coach, an expert on quarterbacking, known as a scholarly man because he smoked a pipe and did not use profanity.

"What we want to do is establish a planning procedures approach whereby we neutralize the defense. We'll be employing a lot of playaction and some passrun options off the sweep. We'll be using a minimum number of sprintouts because the passing philosophy here is based on the pocket concept and we don't want to inflate the injury potential which is what you do if your quarterback strays from the pocket and if he can't run real well, which most don't. We use the aerial game here to implement the ground game whereby we force their defense to respect the run which is what they won't do if they can anticipate pass and read pass and if our frequency, say on second and long, indicates pass. So that's what we'll try to come up with, depending on the situation and the contingency plan and how they react to the running game. I should insert at this point that if they send their linebackers, you've been trained and briefed and you know how to counter this. You've got your screen, your flare, your quick slantin. You've been drilled and drilled on this in the blitz drills. It all depends on what eventuates. It's just eleven men doing their job. That's all it is."

Oscar Veech moved into the circle."I want you to bust ass out there today," he said. "Guards and tackles, I want you to come off that ball real quick and pop, pop, hit those people, move those people out, pop them, put some hurt on them, drive them back till they look like sick little puppy dogs squatting down to crap."

"The guards and tackles are over in that other group," I said.

"Right, right, right. Now go out there and execute. Move that ball. Hit somebody. Hit somebody. Hit somebody."

Garland Hobbs handed off to me on a quick trap and two people hit me. There was a big pileup and I felt a fair number of knees and elbows and then somebody's hand was inside my facemask trying to come away with flesh. I realized Mr. Kimbrough had issued directives. On the next play I was passblocking for Hobbs and they sent everybody including the free safety. I went after the middle linebacker, Dennis Smee, helmet to groin, and then fell on top of him with a forearm leading the way.

Whistles were blowing and the coaches edged in a bit closer. Vern Feck took off his baseball cap and put his pink face right into the pileup, little sparks of saliva jumping out of his whistle as he blew it right under my nose. Creed came down from the tower.



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