I passed up an offer to visit Morningside, KY because my
teammates from Boone County High School talked about partying,
girls, drinking, and girls, all normal things for football
players who had been locked up in pre-season camp for five weeks
or so but since no one mentioned football, I wasn't that
interested. When Steve Geiger offered a chance to hitchhike to
Blacklick, approximately twenty miles east of Columbus which
made it about one-hundred-and-twenty-five miles northeast of
school, I jumped because football was involved. Early to
mid-sixties driving time equated to approximately two-and-a-half
hours which meant perhaps four, hitchhiking in the rain. It
would be worth the time, effort, and discomfort because that
night would be a big game between Columbus area rivals Groveport
and Steve's alma mater, Gahanna Lincoln High School. Steve had
attracted some attention at UC because he arrived a day after
practice began and walked onto the field with a well-dressed man
whom everyone assumed was his father. Steve was in the room next
to me and I got the story: having married his high school
sweetheart currently a high school senior, he had planned to go
to work and support his new family and pass on football. A local
UC alumnus and former player wouldn't allow it and to insure
that he was at school for practice and class, took the time to
drive him down and hand-deliver him to the coaches. When he
informed me that he was a center and linebacker, I looked at the
muscularly-lean but skinny frame he had and noted that the
center that represented the North All Stars and the center that
represented the South All Stars in the Ohio North-South All Star
game were both in freshmen camp. Geiger just smiled as if he
knew something no one else did and he did because although not
as highly touted, he was a quick, mean handful on the field.
Unlike the last few generations, many of the fellows in my
neighborhood got married after high school or within a year or
so of graduating. The thought was that one could always get a
job with one of the many New York City area unions or find
manual labor jobs that paid enough to eventually purchase a
small house. Of course, my children ranging in age from
seventeen to mid-thirties think that concept is the strangest
thing they have heard as the cost of living is so high, few
youngsters now get married before their mid-to-late twenties and
often live at home until that time. As Steve told me, most of
his teammates and friends were already married, quite a few to
young ladies now in their senior year of high school because
"that's how we do it down on the farm and besides, how many
times can you go to the drive-in and the Dairy Queen?" Football
aside, I was entering a new world.
Steve's wife picked us up, I met the family, and we were off
to visit and later attend the high school football game. Gahanna
Lincoln was and is a well-respected program and when we visited,
one of the better teams in central Ohio with a proud tradition.
Although suburban sprawl has no doubt changed things in the
Columbus area as it has everywhere, Blacklick was but one of a
number of very small rural towns, some literally with one main
street, that were served by an area high school, in this
case, Lincoln High School in the town of Gahanna. When we
arrived, it seemed that the entire state was present but I was
informed that it was just the fifteen or sixteen-thousand area
residents who indeed had closed up Blacklick, Gahanna, and the
other small towns in the immediate area so that they could
witness the battle against Groveport which was located on the
other side of Columbus. I was shocked at the number of people
gathered for the game and although the school looked old
("1928", Steve said, "built in 1928, everyone knows that."), the
stadium was in my eyes, very much like a college or professional
venue. They sold tee-shirts with the school mascot on them and
special shirts made just for the Groveport game, something never
seen at home. Steve and I were invited into the locker room and
as the coaches went over offenses and defenses on the
blackboard, I thought, "this is like the stuff we're getting in
college, we never had this level of advanced technique and
assignments in high school." Our high school program was one of
the best in our entire area and this was far beyond anything we
had run offensively or defensively. Steve was asked to say a few
words to the team and as he did, the entire team stood in rapt
attention. Sal Ciampi was a legend in our school and as I was
beginning my college career, he was finishing his as the captain
of Purdue's Boilermakers and he later played in the Blue-Gray
game and had a try-out with the Giants. Everyone in our
neighborhood knew he was a great player. Yet, Sal was "regular"
for lack of a better word. His dad was a superintendent of
sanitation in the area and he secured jobs for the high school
players each summer so that we got to run behind the garbage
trucks wearing five-pound ankle weights, haul the heavy pails of
garbage, and get off on time to lift weights. Though weight
training was not yet widely accepted for athletic improvement,
our neighborhood, because of its toughness and reputation for
fighting, always had a strong weight-training influence in part
because one knew they would have to fight and the weight work
was good preparation for the ongoing battles in the street. Sal
was one of the really strong guys and we would not only watch
him lift in Richie Mollo's garage as he prepared for his season
at Purdue and Mollo got ready to play offensive guard at
Virginia Tech, but we would sometimes lift with them, usually at
the plumbing supply warehouse of Butch Jackson, another local
strongman. Sal was great but he was also one of us. In a small
town environment like Gahanna and Blacklick, I'm sure that
everyone in the room knew Steve intimately and watched him grow
up and become one of the area's better football players yet he
was treated like a hero and the players hung on every word
before blowing through the locker room doors to the field.
The level of play was great, sophisticated, and treated like
life and death by the players and coaches who were supportive
and knowledgeable. When the players went in at halftime, Steve
and I were asked to wait on the sidelines. The most amazing
thing occurred as Steve was introduced, the announcer noting his
achievements from the prior season and with great fanfare,
stating that he was home for the weekend from Cincinnati's
freshmen camp. You would have thought that the Vice President
had arrived such was his greeting. Then, the announcer stunned
me by calling my name and having me go to midfield to join Steve
(and who I believe was the Mayor or another elected official),
stating that I too was a member of the freshmen team. It was in
a sense, other-worldly because after all, I was a scrub and knew
for at least that season, things wouldn't change too much. Yet
having a visitor who was just a member of a collegiate
freshman team was literally a huge thing for everyone there.
Watching the second half play out, I understood that unlike
the perspective we had at home, high school football was part of
the fabric of the community, especially the smaller, rural
communities in Ohio. In the NY City area, the weekend's football
game was "something to do", "somewhere to go" for most
spectators, especially if they did not have a son or relative on
the field. In Ohio, the team represented the community to
others, they were the "face" of the community playing for pride
against similar neighboring towns. There was a true sense of
loyalty to the team and the community for each player who wore
the uniform and because the players were willing and happy to
give their all to a common cause, the coaches could teach more,
demand more, and expect more so that the offenses and defenses
relative to other areas, was quite advanced. The coaches' names
I had heard bandied about who had started at one of the many
Ohio high schools who had then progressed to a college position
meant more to me from that point on because I knew how they had
played as high school athletes, what they had done as high
school coaches, and what the game must have meant to them.
We were offered a ride back to campus on Sunday afternoon by
either Steve or his wife's parents and were met by countless
stories not of parties but of football as almost every player
had made it a point to view their former high school team in
action. Ohio high school football, presented as something
meaningful and important, truly was.
