A Fond and Sad Memory

By

Michael J. English

It is odd somehow that the littlest things can often set a person off remembering. Sometimes looking in the mirror can do that.

It was the beginning of my sophomore year of high school and as I turned out for the first day of football practice I was informed that I had been elevated to the varsity squad. My immediate reaction was of both pride and then fear; pride, in the fact that I was one of three players off the freshman team to have made the varsity squad and fear, I could get killed by those older big guys, or more importantly not be a starter. I have to say that of the two emotions fear was the more motivational.

Summers on the San Francisco peninsula are usually mild with cool overcast mornings and warm windy afternoons after the sun burns through the clouds. This summer was different; there had been no rain since mid-June and since the first week in August the wind had died. It was unbearably hot and humid and we were in the middle of two-a-day practices. I had begun to question the honor of having made the varsity squad in those conditions; after all, the JVs didn’t start until the first week of school and would it would be much cooler then. Our team was picked to place high in the league and one of the main reasons was a guy named Lenny Nicholson. He was our all-league-all-state, middle linebacker.

Now, Lenny wasn’t the biggest linebacker in the league nor was he the fastest; he was the meanest football player on the San Francisco peninsula. Not only was Lenny the meanest football player, he was also reputed to be the toughest kid in the area. He had never lost a fight and he had had a lot of fights.

As two-a-days were coming to an end, with the heat, humidity, exhaustion and anxiety we were all getting pretty edgy. We were running a walk-though drill where the second and third string players run the opponent’s offense against our first team defense. These drills are supposed to be run at half speed with only minimal contact. We weren’t even in full uniforms: only helmets and jerseys. I was handed the ball and as I jogged past Lenny he gave me a forearm shot to the head that broke my facemask, nose and sent me to the ground. As the pain and light flashes in my head subsided, I acted on instinct and jumped up and threw a straight right at the first shape I could make out which turned out to be Lenny’s face. When my head and vision cleared I was looking down at Lenny Nicholson who was sitting on the ground laughing.

My first thought as Lenny got up was I should run, but somehow my feet wouldn’t move. A bolt of fear shot from my heart to my throat and I couldn’t speak. I knew I was going to die. Lenny just kept laughing and coming toward me. As I put up my hands to protect myself, Lenny just threw an arm around me and said: "All right kid, you can play." It didn’t bother Lenny that I’d broken his nose. He said it was about the fifth time for him. I still have a distinct bend to mine as result of Lenny. What I also got was a reputation as the guy that broke Lenny Nicholson’s nose and lived to tell about. I was never in another fight. Lenny took me under his wing and we were friends until he graduated and went into the Marine Corps.

In my sophomore year of college I learned that Lenny had been killed in Viet Nam. Now, every once in a while I’ll look in the mirror and notice the bend in my nose and remember Lenny.