The Bombers had uniforms, pre-designed plays and a coach. When they took the field, they looked magnificent in their black helmets.
I played for the Bullets. No one thought we had a chance. Most of us didn’t even have helmets. Our coach, Johnny Letchi, was a World War II veteran who suffered from frequent bouts of depression.
But there was something special about the Bullets and after 48 years, I still remember that Saturday afternoon in Van Courtland Park.
The Bombers beat us, 63 to 0. With seconds left in the game they were on our 5-yard line and were ready to score again. A 63-point margin was not good enough. Their only intent was complete annihilation.
The moment of victory is much too short to live for. Victory is a flash in time that dissipates quickly. After the pats on the back, what are the players left with? What have they learned about character? What have they learned about themselves?
What we learn from the game is not the product of winning or losing, but how we lose or win and how we’ve changed because of it, and what we take away from it to apply to other segments of our life.
I admire Ernie Rojas, the head coach of St. Francis’ freshman football team and his assistants — coaches Dowling, Washington, Carroll, Barkley and Chang. Taking a knee and letting the clock run out was a classy thing to do. The kind of young men that they are molding will be better people because these coaches passed their way.
We all want to leave our mark upon our endeavors. The voice of the human spirit calls us to do so. However, when coaches teach their players that domination is better than winning, it becomes the voice of the ego.