Maybe the last bastion of true America!
The physical contrasts could not be more striking. The smell and sounds in the air intensified anxiety at one end and created soothing harmonic biorhythms at the other end. In the world of modern travel, it is amazing how one can be in such different parts of America in just one week’s time.
Last weekend my wife and I visited the bustling city of New York to celebrate her birthday. I enjoyed the weekend as we experienced some of New York’s classic tourist attractions. This weekend my wife and I had the pleasure of witnessing a high school football game in the small town of Sandusky, Michigan. We joyfully watched Coach Bob’s Staskiewicz (my mentor) grandson Kyle Guibord as he quarterbacked the Sandusky Redskins match up with the Cass City RedHawks. Kristen Guibord (Bob’s daughter) is one of the best athletes I ever coached at Marine City. Her competitive fire is something I have rarely seen in a high school athlete. This summer, at Bob’s request, I worked with Kyle to improve his QB skills, and once I worked with Kyle, I was a fan.
A mature athlete with old school manners, “yes sir, no sir, thank you, Coach.” An athlete that still holds on to a fading characteristic, eye contact. I promised Kyle at the end of our session I would come to one of his home games, and he did not disappoint. He was a true warrior on this beautiful fall night.
At every step of the night, I chuckled inside, comparing the environment and atmosphere’s polarity. Upon entering the stadium, Kathy and I hit the concession stand as our choice for dinner. The average breakfast bill for us in New York was 40 plus dollars, and the dinner bills easily topped the 100-dollar mark. The Sandusky concession stand gave us 3 hot dogs, 1 popcorn, 1 Gatorade, and one Diet Coke for less than 10 bucks.
Our hotel in lower Manhattan was 55 stories and surrounded by buildings equally tall or taller, with the One World building topping at 100 stories in height. The stadium at Sandusky was surrounded by corn fields, and the only building within eye site taller than one story was the press box. The range of nationalities in New York was a testament to the “melting pot” title bestowed on the city. The lack of diversity in the Sandusky crowd was obvious to the eyes.
I have rarely sat in the stands of a high school football game in the last 35 years of my life and career, but on this night, I wanted to experience this high school football in its purest form. Kathy and I sat several rows up on the 40-yard line as Coach Bob took his traditional spot on the fence line near the 20-yard line. As I sat and became an observer, things jumped out and warmed my heart.
No matter where you watch a high school football game in America, another game always goes on simultaneously. In the northeast corner of the stadium, I could spot this game going on with no athlete taller than 5 feet and no athlete older than age 10. It looks like complete chaos, but the joy on these young faces shows the benefits of competition.
As the band blasted out the National Anthem and the crowd stood in honor, a realization hit me like never before. Right before my eyes, there it was, this beautiful scene with this powerful song reverberating in my lungs, I was witnessing the absolute best version of America. As I eased dropped on conversations near and around me, there was no discussion of partisan politics, no ugly judgments were thrown, and no divisive ads being blasted on the PA system. The home crowd at Sandusky was all on the same page to support the hard-working members of the band, the cheerleaders, and of course, the team. The age range in the stands represented our population with moms and dads, grandmas and grandpas, and younger brothers and sisters.
As the game progressed, my mind emptied all the worries and concerns brewing and escaped to a focused state with one concern, the Sandusky Redskins. My wife Kathy impresses me every time we watch a game together with her observation skills. “Why is the head coach wearing a hoodie and jeans and not coaching gear?” “That’s a good question, Sweetheart,” I chuckled in response. “Why wasn’t pass interference called there, they didn’t allow the QB to throw the ball?” “Well, Honey, the rule states,” I went on to the true definition of the rule with a smile on my face.
The game ended, and the players lined up to shake hands, and it was clear to see that at the end of this hard-hitting night, each team respected the other team. The crowd quickly exited, the stands cleared, and the night air became crisp. We walked back to the car along the track with the stadium lights still on, and the cold air became quiet. It became crystal clear that this was one of the last pieces of America we all can be proud of. The solidarity on this night in the stands, the field, and in the hearts of the spectators was inspiring. So, if you need to reset your patriotism or need your heart and mind to be warmed and motivated, head off to your local high school football game on a Friday night. You will experience the last bastion of “True America.”
