itsfkntrue

[itsfkntrue]

Can i Kick it?

The kicking experience

To just say the truth, I was a fantastic high school athlete,  and a solid d3 college athlete,  and an athlete who always knew that was about as far as I was gonna get.  I played soccer hockey and baseball, and up until 16 I played internationally on one of the best club soccer teams in the US,  FC Westchester.   However, this story has nothing to do with any of those sports, this is the story about how I tried to be an NFL kicker.

4 years of D3 college soccer, and just like in hs, there was a gentle rivalry between the football and soccer teams.  We had brutal August pre-season workouts next to each other in the 100 degree heat.  We shared lockers rooms next to each other.  It was a small school, you just knew everyone by face after a while.

The football coach looked like a throwback to the days of dick butkis with a flattop haircut, standard coach attire of sweats, a pullover, and a whistle at all tines.  He had a booming deep voice, his players loved him, and even though I wasn't even on the team,  I did too.

My senior year soccer season ended with a sub 500 sputter, which was expected.   The most fun we had was an ice cold case of American light in the shower after home games…i seriously doubt that flys these days.  However, one thing that I had that wasn't d3 caliber was a uniquely powerful kick.  My legs were chiseled from 12 straight years of running, skating, and hiding from cops in assorted bushes throughout the tri-state area.  I always wanted to kick field goals, as it seemed logical.

How hard could it be?

On a Thursday morning a day after our season ended I went to the field house to try to talk the football coach into letting me walk on the team for the last 2 games.  They were pretty bad that year,  maybe 2 and 5, and while coach loved my interest he ending my pitch with a "I just don't think bringing you in at this point makes sense".

Ok

Disappointed but undeterred,  I asked for a bag of balls so I could "practice" for this new budding career that was barely a pimple on fat bastards ass.  He agreed, "good luck".

I took the six balls he gave me made my way out to the game field.  I lined up 2 on the 40yd line, 2 on the 45, and 2 on the 50.  Then I waited..  I knew the team and the coaches would walk out past this field on the way to practice, and I was going to put on a little show.

They filed out, my heart started pumping, and I smartly took aim at the far goalposts which gave me a nice little breeze at the back..  just a little, but a helpful little breeze..

I hit both from the 40 with room to spare….some players stopped.

I hit both from the 45…the coaches then stopped.

I hit both from the 50…6 for 6.  Ok, your turn coach.

I pretended to tie my shoe or some stalling bullshit like that as the coaches huddled together talking.  2 minutes later I hear coach bellow out.."Boyle!….come see me tomorrow ".  Fk yeah I will, but i had no idea what the hell I was getting into.

I had an amazing fraternity of friends, friends that im still in daily contact with to this day, and no one gets away with anything in this group.  Its hazing from love, always there for you to help and call bullshit.  So I showed up at the house and proclaimed that I think I just made the football team.  It was quiet for a second, then laughs and the usual hazing ensued,  completely justified for such a comment.   We will see tomm i told them…

The next day I head to the field house an hour before their regular practice and coach tells me what I wanted to hear…OK kid you are on the team, but don't make a spectacle of this.  You have the best leg I've seen in d3 and I can't not give you a chance if this is what you want to do.  Did I mention I loved this guy?

Now I needed gear.

Gear…besides my shin guards I haven't worn anything since my last hockey game.  The equipment manager Charlie was also my buddy, and I went to go get fitted for pads and a helmet.  I've known this guy forever, and he was the best out there. Loved the kids, loved his bottle of jack Daniel's he kept somewhere in the laundry room, and a true fan of football.   He was not buying it until an assistant coach walked by and confirmed.   Then it was game on.

"Your a kicker you don't need any real pads so we'll just put foam in there"  famous last words…. Thanks Charlie.

That first practice was amazing, since it was the Friday b4 the game it was really just a walkthru and ended with field goal team, where I made 5 in a row.  The guys were honestly so welcoming, it was a little shocking.  The school was small, and I was a 2 year captain in soccer who also had a entry pass to the fball frat for parties so I was known, but I wasn't really friends with these guys.  I felt welcome, and confident this was going to be great.  I don't know if "great " is the word I would use today, but it was incredible.

Gameday….GameDay…. gonna play GameDay football for the first time in my life.  Hit the field house and after getting my game jersey I begin walking to the locker room so someone could help me get dressed, bc I have no idea what order to put this shit on.

While walking down a skinny 80ft hallway, I see a familiar face walking toward me.  Mike went to hs with me (only 100 kids in my class) and we were co athletes of the year.  He played qb, hoops, and we both pitched together in baseball.  We were friends, but not close, probably due to his tendency for arrogance and his father convincing my hs baseball coach to start him over me in a game that likely cost us a state championship.   To this day, it is a sore subject for basically everyone who knows the story.  But no matter how you look at it, this was a massively random encounter…

I was shocked as he was, then he said "what the hell you doing here?"

im playing you today

What?

Yes I'm the new kicker

When that happen

Yesterday

Oh man…I'm the starting qb today

Well I guess I'll see you out there.

And that was it.  I'm not sure he believed me.

So on my 2nd day on a football team I went to the coaches room and told them I have a scouting report on the opposing quarterback.   Oh the look on their faces.

"Great arm, tough guy, can't run for shit" .  Mike would have agreed.

Just the odds of only the two of us, alone in the hallway in a building filled with 2 entire football teams, still to this day amazes me.  It was a sign.

We hit the field, my parents in the stands, and they are scared shitless and thrilled at the same time.  My dad was beyond himself, and likely smoked 2 packs of cigarettes that afternoon.  Which I could understand.   He clearly knew how absurd this was.

My fraternity friends also came out in force, as this was to good to miss.   For them to get up before noon on a Sat was an accomplishment.   They were ready for the show, and brought drinks, anticipating a plane crash or something similar.

Kickoff…looking back it would have been nice if anyone had told me anything at all besides "just kick it far" b4 I got out there.  How hard could it be.

We are now lined up…that awesome line of helmeted power ready to charge into battle.  The whistle blows and I drill one to about the 5 and then like any soccer player standing in the middle of 21 other football players would do, I watch.

I watch this Devin Hester looking guy run and dodge the 1st wave and then break free to my left .  No one else is going to touch him.   Oh fuck fuck fuck.  Run dammit…

So now I guess I'm either going to make a tackle or my football career is going to start with a 95 yard td return.  I was fast, and I ran him down and tackled him out bounds right in front of our bench, and our coach.  I get up…in shock…and coach just says "nice hit boyle".  Nice hit…I'm not supposed to hit…all my pads are fake and I literally had never done that to anyone except my brother in the backyard.  Either way, tragedy averted…temporarily.

After successfully drilling an extra point that almost landed across the street 50 yards away, we got to the 4th quarter down by 9 with 4 minutes left.  A great play puts us on the 8 yard line, 1st down.  Coach then calls for field goal, on 1st down, to the shock and confusion of everyone.  The team is disorganized,  we rush out, I line up and here comes the snap.  It's not great,  the hold wobbles, and my soccer instinct kicks in and I drill it.  I drill it right into the ass of my center.   Needless to say he was surprised.   I really crushed that one.

As the ball bounced around I again stood there, until some guy on the other team decides he wants to stick me.  He does, can he do that?  Apparently so.  So i have now been hit twice in 3 plays.

We lose,  my friends are hysterically enjoying themselves(could not blame them), but my folks were still beaming after the game.  It was a cool feeling, pictures taken with the disposable camera, as this was the most advanced tech my father was allowed to operate.  I still have them.

That night as I took down many beers with my new football fraternity,  I thought this might have a chance.  You know, if I had maybe a little more practice and if someone maybe told me a little more information about wtf im supposed to do.

I played one more game, we lost that too, but it didn't matter.  The thrill on the field was worth it, as was my kickoff that stopped 1 foot from the end zone pylon, the perfect kickoff.

I got a letter(my 9th), and a numbered blanket, at the end of season celebration.  Overall I was actually pretty emotional that day.  The teammates and coaches made it for me, and I thank them to this day for enabling that experience to happen and be worth writing about.

A year later I had a tryout with scouts from both the jets and the bucs, who said I had a nfl leg but needed to play "more than 2 d3 games" b4 anyone would touch me.  I had to agree with them.

"Have you thought about playing in canada?"

"Uh no sir I haven't "

With the roster change to 53 from 57 players on the roster, the "kickoff specialist" was eliminated.  It was then that I thought Manitoba for 20k a year wasn't what I was looking for….and i put the balls away.

I still have that blanket tho….got my number on it.

[itsfkntrue]

It's OK to go...

In many ways I didn't want to write this, but I can't deny the insane way that this story ends.  It's the beginning and the middle which are the hard parts.

My dad was my hero, when I was a kid.  He was funny, successful, jacked, and had excellent taste in cars.  He did as he pleased,  most of the time, and believed that most things were negotiable if you played the game right.  He also fucked up, alot, but that came later.

So he was my hero, and the driving force behind my athletic passion to win.  I had the talent, but he gave me that extra motivation in his face as I walked off the field with a win, a goal scored.  Looking back it was ever present, and not understood at the time, but it kinda dominated me.

The day his father died, I saw him cry for the first time.  As I walked out of the funeral behind the coffin, waiting at the door like they always do just to really fkn torment the ones closest, I saw a car waiting on the street outside.  Coffin…car…tears.

I hug my family and hop in the car, they go to the cemetery to which I am ashamed to say I have still not been to.  One day I will.

I left bc I was the captain and leading scorer in the state and my team was in the soccer. sectional playoffs. I had to go, and it was going to be close. I believe the funeral was scheduled so I could make it, but no one ever told me.

I got to the field after changing in the car, ran out to the game and it immediatly started,  45 seconds later I scored.  We won one nothing and they hit the post, a round post, 3 times that day.  It was meant to be.  My family came after the burial, and my dad told me that night, behind I'm sure 3 or 4 dewars, that he loved me for what I gave him that day.   A gift 10 years in the making, and the greatest gift I ever gave anyone.

It was all decline from there on out with failed businesses,  depression, anxiety, alchohol, financial stress, and watching my stoic hero continue to fall.

The hardest day was when I told him he was no longer in charge of the family.   He sullenly accepted it like a man who had someone finally call out the truth he had known for years.  After, we got a drink together at his dive bar to just take the edge off and there I met his "friends".

After grabbing a bar seat, 3 different people came up to us and were super excited to meet me and share that they believed that my dad was the most amazing person they ever met.  God knows the stories he must have told over numerous chardonnays to the barflies in there, but it appears he was their champion like he was for me once.  It was beautiful and sad all at once.

After a routine biopsy surgery, my dad coded and was revived.  Revived to a remaining life of psychosis and confusion which lasted for 5 to 6 years.  In his mind he was living his life, windsurfing and closing deals, and feeding his dog from a supply of snacks that he didn't have.  He was in his mind, and that was better than being aware of the shithole hospital psych ward he was contained in.  We considered it in a demented way, better than what he was before. Sober, smoke free, but lost.

I saw him for the last time in December of 2020 in the middle of covid.  He was in terrible shape, could barely talk and was going to pass "any day".  I said my goodbyes and told him I loved him, to which i got the only noticeable response from someone clearly out of it.  I always thought he didn't hear me, and it bothered me as I left.  It continued to bother me.

2 weeks later I'm walking around my hood, and he was still barely holding on everyday.  I believe there is a connection between people that is not fully understood,  and 100 years from now maybe we will figure it out.  I felt a wave of connection hit me, so I decided i wanted to talk to him…

"Dad we love you and it's OK to go.  It's OK to go dad you're gonna be OK.  We love you, it's gonna be ok"

I felt peace wash over me, as if this was overdue.  I went inside and back to work until 2 hours later I got the call.  Dad passed away…

"what time was it when he died"  I asked...

It was 30 minutes after I "talked" to him.  2 weeks holding on and then, gone that day, that time.   My hero completed his fall, but I believe to this day he landed peacefully.

Once more Dad, we love you and I know you're ok.

[itsfkntrue]

Tornados and mushrooms....and acid

There are a few priceless days in college in the northeast, and none much better than a sunny Sunday in the late spring when it's warm, your work is almost over, and as a senior you are about as comfortable your gonna get in life for quite some time.

In order to take advantage of such an epic day in the spring of 1995, my former friend and I decided to step it up into uncharted territory.   We were going to ride out the quad all day under the huge oak tree while taking mushrooms, and acid, at the same time.  Why not, I had some experience with both and was comfortable in my own head,.I can handle.this.

Now normally this would likely be a very bad decision.   Combining the intense visuals of the schooms with the twisted side of acid was going to be predictably unpredictable, so we were definitely rolling the proverbial dice here.

However,  we were no rookies(or junkies for that matter).  We knew what we were taking and how much and when, we just needed to set up our "preparation and necessities ".  When it comes to doing these mind altering substances,  preparation and planning are essential.  You WILL BE FUCKED UP, so you better get your day in order beforehand.

We did.

Drinks,snacks and oranges...check.

Comfy chairs.to sit.in the quad...check.

No one looking for us or work that needed.to be done...check.

Good friends aware that we may be puddles and on the ready to assist if necessary...check.

fkn gorgeous sunny day...check.

OK well let's eat these fkn things.  First an 1/8 of schooms goes in, followed 45 min later by the tab of acid.  Now the trick was to have the appropriate overlap of schooms and acid so they gelled together, knowing we were going to take the other 1/8th in about 3 to 4 hours.  You know, to match the likely 8 to 9 hour acid ride.  It was all very mathematical for a guy who was thrilled math wasn't a requirement here.

It's now 10 am and we are set, picture perfect day, no reason to go anywhere, just sit and enjoy.  We watch as our friends going to lunch walk past us, stopping to chat, asking how things were going.  it was beautiful out, and we were surrounded by friends, and nature, and cold drinks and juicy fruit.  It was glorious.

Around 2 pm we took the rest, and the afternoon became a tad more intense and Mr acid became a bit more assertive and the grass began crawling up my leg and one particular fkn cloud kept trying to grab me out of my chair.  I knew it wasn't, but it sure looked like it really wanted to.

Friends came out for dinner around 5 and we still had literally not moved.  Soccer juggling circles and butts up was played, and I just remember thinking what a great bunch of guys I'm friends with.  The positive energy was everywhere, like a gentle glow around all I cared about.

The story takes a bit of turn at about 6pm.  Our beautiful sunny day began to change, and the sky coming at us was almost black.  It was angry...very very angry.  We looked at each other to confirm this was being seen by both of us, it was.  Fuck fuck....

The wind now starts really picking up, a warm wind, but bursting enough to knock over chairs and sent papers flying across the quad.

The wind then changed to "we better get the fuck outta here" intensity and the black sky was now suddenly upon us.  Students were running to their dorms, kinda freaking out.  In case you didn't know, watching a bunch of people freaking the fuck out while you are in the state we were, is not comforting.

We decide to make a run for his car, about 200 yards away around one of the dorms.  We are running into the wind which does not want us to go this way.  Branches are now coming off the trees, thunder is fkn deafening and evil, tiles from the roof are flying off and crash landing all around us.  The tracks i saw right then would make putin shit himself.

We dive in his car and ride it out in silence.  How did our once peaceful day turn so...evil?   10minutes later it was over...dead calm...a late fading sunset returns to the sky.  We exit the car to just massive destruction.

There are trees down all over campus, shit everywhere, windows broken and debris littering the quad.  But it was peaceful.

We walked the campus just checking shit out, as we found out later a "good size" tornado touched down and missed campus by only a mile or two.  A tornado...while on acid and mushrooms.

As I was saying at the beginning, doing this takes preparation and planning.   You don't want any unexpected surprises to run your trip.

I don't think we ever found our chairs, but the recap with the boys later that night about "where everyone was" when it hit was priceless.

"Hold on...you were on what when the tornado hit?"

Yes I was, and I haven't since.