I’m not someone who dwells excessively upon glory days.

I’m not someone who would dwell upon the many days of myTexas high school football career. Even if I tried to, it would become quite clear that the JJ Pearce Mustangs of Richardson did not have the same aura as Odessa Permian’s Panthers who made Friday Night Lights legendary.

But I am perfectly entitled to remember some of those days, and some of the Friday nights. After all, compared to the 18,000-plus other days of my almost 50 years of life, they did create some unique impressions that, at times, were an absolute blast.

No doubt, high school football in Texas was, at times, a blast. It was so for many, and we’re all entitled to remember fun.

Now, the above featured photo, which I recently shared on Fagbook, is from Friday Septemember 3, 1993. This was right after the start of my senior year of high school. I was still 16. I was 280 pounds, and it wasn’t all muscle.

But there was some muscle. Actually, there was a lot. The summer of ’93 found me in the weight room doing squats, bench press and power cleans quite a bit. I’d worked out harder than ever before.

Actually, the whole team did. Many of us Pearce Mustangs spent good time in the weight room that summer as we eagerly conditioned ourselves for the upcoming football season.

Indeed, we were a talented group of big and strong North Dallas white boys who could have been a helluva team had we had coaches, in previous years, inspiring us to work hard. Unfortunately, the Pearce Mustangs were infected with a losing mentality. The 1992 season left us with a 2-8 record. We got our assess whipped at times.

However, in the spring of ’93, a new head coach had come into our lives. He had fire and passion. He had a LOUD voice which jolted us, and gave us words that motivated us to work together that summer of ’93 like never before. We knew we had talent, and coach Tod Nix empowered us to believe in ourselves.

As for me specifically, in those times, I was hoping to play college football. It was my greatest hope to play at Stanford, and such a dream motivated my fat ass to get in that weight room. That summer I got a LOT bigger and stronger (and I always wonder what could have been had I learned better habits earlier).

I’ll never forget how good I felt – how good the whole team felt – after running afternoon sprints in some random July afternoon. We were hot and exhausted. But this was new. This didn’t happen the year before when virtually no one on the team worked out together. This new work ethic proved to ourselves we were serious. It proved we were committed. We were excited.

Indeed, as much as I can complain about heat and humidity, once upon a time, it was a thing that made me feel alive. Soaked-with-sweat pads in the 100-plus afternoon heat in Texas was a rite of passage for us teenagers. Sometimes we loved it. It made us feel strong. Actually, it did.

Well, we didn’t August love two-a-days. But, it did make the heat at the start of the season in early September almost easy. That season started, again, on Friday September 3rd 1993 at Lewisville’s Goldsmith Stadium where we Pearce Mustangs traveled to play the Marcus Marauders of Flower Mound.

Though this game wasn’t a prelude to a state championship, it was exhilarating. The bus ride to Lewisville, the musty smell of the visitor’s locker room, the heat from the turf, the band’s drums booming, the warm-up drills, the crowd filtering in, the growing shadows and lights flickering under a September twilight all came together for a perfect memory.

The game itself is anti-climactic.

The photo above was taken on the opening drive. I blew past the offensive tackle, and knocked down the quarterback, thinking that he’d already thrown the ball. But he hadn’t. Sack for me! For some reason I felt like celebrating more than usual. Thus my pose in the above photo looks kinda’ gay.

At that time, Marcus was a playoff team. We Mustangs kept it close. They were ahead. Then we were. Back and forth the score went.

I tried to find the box score on the internet. But no luck. No archives. The internet had not yet taken off to archive everything. But, I remember we were about to win late in the 4th quarter, after a Mustang go-ahead touchdown or field goal.

But we lost on like the last play when we didn’t squib the kickoff. Marcus did a starburst on the return, and none of our kickoff coverage team could tackle the runner. It was a miserable loss.

The year before, because our offense was so terrible, I learned only to care about how well I played. But this game was different. I did have a good game, but still felt like crap on the way home. C’est la vie.

Ultimately, I write a post like this because it’s enjoyable to remember the emotions that conjure these words – it’s not for large readership. I’m sure I’ll write other random memories for the same reason.

I wish others would do extraneous things like this too. Their reminiscing would help me remember.

But no one else is wired like this. It’s too weird for most people. That’s kind of a shame.