1972 Game Action vs Cortland

1972 Game Action vs Cortland
Eagle QB Dennis Rosolowski around left end
Half a century ago we endured triple sessions in the August heat, pounded each other on a daily basis, and battled rugged competition weekly, all in spartan conditions. We bled green and gold.

And we had fun together, too.

Half a century later we have our memories and we have each other. We no longer flash the green and gold like we did in the day. Ours is the color that comes with age, experience, and some wisdom.

We are The Gray Eagles. Our stories are preserved here.

Sunday, July 9, 2017

The Handball Game

I started playing handball in high school. By the time I was in my last couple of years in Brockport I had become pretty good. Being a phys. ed. school I had lots of room for developing my game. I was always plagued by my left hand, so I never became great. In those days most people played paddle ball and, yes, it was called that in 1965. By 1969 it had become Racquet Ball and actual racquets had replaced the dangerous wooden paddles. But handball was for the hardcore.

I knew Coach D played handball, It became my goal to get him one-on-one in a match. I forget how it came about but one day Coach and I met for that game. He was good, quicker that I'd anticipated and he knew strategy. He must have been in his 50's and I was 20, at the top of my game. I showed little mercy. Rarely looking at his eyes, I served and ran the points up. By the third game of the match sweat was pouring out of us both and fatigue had set in. I had done it. I had beaten my coach in a tough, hard-fought match of handball. I was on top of the world. Those times he started Wayne Hartman instead of me, the quick kick on 3rd down, those 3-a-days in August - they were all set straight.

In retrospect, as I think about that time so long ago when I took much pride in beating Coach D, a man 30 years my senior, and a father figure to me as well, it occurs to me that I might have missed something. He never complained about a bad serve, he never whined about a shot, he never gave up. He fought hard and well against a stronger opponent. As we moved into the games, my youth and speed took it's toll but Coach stayed with it and played to the best of his ability. I feel that Coach showed me by personal example what he'd been telling me about the game of football. He knew our schedules, those teams we played. He knew. Throughout the time in that handball court that day I avoided looking at Coach D. I was all business. But once while serving, I glanced back, to see him. He was looking right at me with this sly little grin on his face. He knew.

Scott Dingman, #42
Sarasota, Florida
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