MY DAYS AS A FIGHTING SCOT

AN IN-DEPTH ANALYSIS OF PARTICIPATORY JOURNALISM

A Report of a Senior Study

by

Kevin Lewis Wheatley

Major: Writing/Communication

Maryville College

Fall, 2008

Date Approved ______, by ______

Faculty Supervisor

Date Approved ______, by ______

Editor

1

CHAPTER I

WHAT AM I DOING AND WHY AM I DOING IT?

ANALYSIS OF PARTICIPATORY JOURNALISM

I am an aspiring sports journalist currently working as a sports stringer for the

Knoxville News Sentinel. By default, this title usually implies I have a bitter athletic past and am extremely judgmental of the jock culture. This bitterness is stereotypically attributed to a variety of factors, ranging from being picked last on the playground for dodge ball to getting my feelings deeply hurt by a fanatical high school baseball coach.

Because of my status as a sportswriter, I’m not supposed to truly understand what happens in a huddle on the football field or inside of a locker room. By trade, I am an outsider.

Well, consider me an outsider no more. I am coming out of retirement from football and putting on the pads to become a Fighting Scot. Granted, my playing experience consisted of two years as an offensive lineman in high school and I am going to play quarterback for the Scots. I have not stepped foot on the gridiron in nearly five years, but that does not matter. This is not about winning the starting quarterback job and obtaining glory on the football field. No, for me this creative thesis is about gaining a new perspective on the game of football through participatory journalism that will help stimulate my growth as a writer, especially as a sports journalist. I feel that this experience will help me obtain “inside” knowledge on a variety of aspects regarding

2 football. For instance, as a quarterback, I will hopefully be able to decipher what the qualities of a good quarterback are as well as what goes on during a game through the eyes of the signal caller. I will hopefully be able to break down plays offensively and defensively and enrich my talents as a sportswriter in the process.

However, this experience will not be all about me. Through this study, I will be able to understand the psyche of football players and delve in their personalities, hopefully going beyond the stereotypes placed on them. Are they as piggish as many people envision them? Are they disruptive in the classroom as often as teachers say? Or is there something more underneath the helmet? I want to know what makes these players tick. Do they let the stereotypes bother them? What is their perception of the media? By further evaluating the roles and psyches of players, my writing will improve along with my interviewing skills, as I will know how to relate to players. My stylistic capability will also expand, as I will be able to discover new stories in the game beyond what happens on the field and recreate these scenes to the audience.

Allow me to break down my tentative schedule for my brief stint as a quarterback.

To begin my illustrious career at Maryville College, I lifted and conditioned with the team at 7:00 a.m. and at 6:00 a.m. following Spring Break. In April, the team began spring practice, which consisted of drills in t-shirts and shorts. During the summer I planned on continuing my weight training and cardiovascular conditioning while practicing with Offensive Coordinator/Quarterbacks Coach Ryan Hansen sporadically over the summer. Summer camp began a few weeks before school in August and I finally put on the pads and helmet and start hitting. When the season started, Scots Head Coach

Tony Ierulli told me that he wanted me to continue practicing into the season and

3 possibly get some snaps in an actual game. While that did not occur, I did get some quality snaps in a junior varsity game, which will be recounted in my third chapter. I had already talked to Coach Ierulli and expressed my intention to be treated as merely a player with no special consideration because I am a writer. In order to gain the full experience, I needed to be fully immersed in the game and participate in it.

I am not the first person to ever embark on a participatory sports journalism project. In preparing for my study, I have looked at three very different examples of participatory sports journalism, which vary on topics such as the length of time spent with the team, the sport itself, literary style, and length of their produced work.

George Plimpton’s Paper Lion is a book about his time as a Detroit Lion at training camp in Cranbrook, Mich. in 1963. Plimpton had not played football in high school. In fact, his school did not have a football team at all, opting instead to field a soccer team as its primary athletic program (Plimpton 9-10). He was also 36 at the time

(364), leaving only one player older than him on the entire roster, Jim Martin (age 39)

(364). Like me, Plimpton was attempting to be a quarterback, albeit for a team in the

National Football League (NFL). He met only limited success in his time with the team, only picking up five plays in practice and not gaining a yard during an intrasquad scrimmage, instead losing 29 yards in three plays (240). Plimpton eventually departed from the team, but not before successfully completing his favorite play (“Green right, three right, ninety-three”) against the Lions’ first-team defense (343-344).

Like Plimpton, Jeff Foley joined a professional football team and wrote about these experiences in his book War on the Floor: An Average Guy Plays in the Arena

Football League, and Lives to Write About it, playing for the Albany Firebirds of the

4 Arena Football League (AFL) in three preseason contests during the 1999-2000 preseasons. Like Plimpton, Foley had no prior football experience, often emphasizing his lack of skill (and height) to his audience, which is an important aspect for an offensive specialist (i.e. wide receiver). Standing a measly five-foot-six, Foley was easily picked out among the rest of the team due to his stature (Foley 196). What is interesting about

Foley’s tale is that he played in multiple contests over a span of a year. At first, he was only going to play in one game during the 1999 preseason as an offensive specialist for a story for the Albany Times Union, but he extended his stay to include the 2000 preseason as well. He participated in practices and scrimmages, often earning the respect of his teammates with his determination and will to endure even though he was in intense pain as an unconditioned athlete. His lone moment of glory came against the Milwaukee

Mustangs when he caught a pass that went for negative two yards after tripping over his own feet (301).

The final piece of my three primary sources is an article by Sports Illustrated writer Tom Verducci entitled “I Was a Toronto Blue Jay: In Five days as a Major

Leaguer, the Author saw the Splendors of Baseball -- and its hard reality -- from the Best

Perspective: Inside the Game,” which deals with playing in a Major League Baseball

(MLB) game. Verducci plays the role of a left-fielder for the Toronto Blue Jays in his first participatory journalism endeavor (he would later assume the role of an MLB umpire for one game), taking part in spring training for five days in the 2005 preseason. During his time on the field, he received a vivid first-person perspective of MLB pitching, hitting, and fielding and noted the difficulty of attempting to hit off of an MLB pitcher.

His lone moment of glory in his playing days occurs during an intrasquad scrimmage

5 when he makes contact with a ball off of Chad Gaudin, a former pitcher for the Blue

Jays. Verducci popped up to the first baseman, but making contact with the ball was a monumental accomplishment in his eyes.

When analyzing these different sources of participatory journalism, it is important to define what participatory journalism entails. According to Ryan May, a public relations professional currently working for the United States Army who also has an extensive background in radio and newspaper reporting, participatory journalism is defined as “collecting, writing, editing and presenting news or news articles through the participation of individuals” (May). While my main interest in this study is in the field of participatory sports journalism, there are many other forms of general participatory journalism. For example, many individuals think of online blogging as a form of participatory journalism, since most of the individuals are involved with the topic that they report (Lasica). Since my primary interest is in the field of sports throughout this study, it would be foolish of me not to look at athletes and those connected with professional sports who actively blog. A few of the more notable bloggers among those associated with professional athletics are Mark Cuban (owner of the NBA’s Dallas

Mavericks), David Wright (third baseman for the MLB’s New York Mets), and Paul

Shirley (former benchwarmer for the NBA’s Phoenix Suns). Shirley’s blog is often noted for its wit, humor, and sophistication in writing while presenting the perspective of a self- proclaimed “twelfth man” to the public’s attention. His writing does not come off as that of a self-absorbed professional athlete, but rather as an everyman individual, someone who’d be more likely to drink a beer and watch a basketball game rather than actually play in it. The popularity of his blog even led to the publishing of a book entitled Can I

6 Keep My Jersey? 11 Teams, 5 Countries, and 4 Years in My Life as a Basketball

Vagabond. Blogging has become interconnected with immersive journalism, which is essentially an expansion of news reporting in the sense that in reporting on a subject, the author becomes connected with the subject, albeit on a shorter timeline than standard immersive journalism pieces. Edward Humes, a Pulitzer Prize-winning journalist and nonfiction author (“Backstory”), said it best in a 2002 lecture at the University of

Oregon:

It seems to me that the actual process of this thing we’re calling immersion

journalism isn’t so different from any other sort of reporting. I come from a

background in newspapers, where you have days or hours to find and assemble a

story, not months or years. And, while the writing process is necessarily very

different because of those time constraints, I can tell you that the best news

reporters are indeed immersed in their subjects whether they know it or not.

(Humes)

As Humes discusses the concept of immersive journalism, he displays aspects of participatory journalism in his explanation. Both are processes of collecting information over a period of time, no matter how brief or long it may be, and the author must be completely immersed in his/her work in order to bring the most compelling story to the audience.

However, the writer may find it difficult to remain objective when working closely with a subject over an extended period of time. Philip Meyer, a professor at the

School of Journalism and Mass Communication at the University of North Carolina at

Chapel Hill, notes the difficulty in today’s world of journalism in having an author

7 remain uninfluenced by outside sources, especially when working for a newspaper or other media outlet that is controlled by advertisers or public stockholders (Meyer). For example, if local crime is running rampant at the local Wal-Mart, but Wal-Mart holds a considerable share in a major newspaper’s stock, Meyer would suggest suppressing the story and keeping it out of the public realm of knowledge. While the “power of the press” according to John Milton is immense, every person wants to wield a portion of the power

(Meyer). This is commonly seen in pressure from stockholders, but can also be evident through developing personal relations with the editors or publishers, threatening litigation, and placing importance on the public relations industry (Meyer).

Meyer also argues that objectivity not only cannot be achieved in journalism, but should not be achieved in order to persuade the audience and change their thoughts on a matter.

Objectivity, as defined by the knee-jerk, absolutist school of media ethics, means

standing so far from the community that you see all events and all viewpoints as

equally distant and important -- or unimportant. It is implemented by giving equal

weight to all viewpoints and assertions --or, if not, all an interesting variety within

a socially acceptable spectrum. The result is a laying out of facts in a sterile,

noncommittal manner, and then standing back to "let the reader decide" which

view is true…Critics of objectivity get a lot to chew on when that is the definition.

And one form of reaction is to declare that objectivity is impossible. No matter

how delicately we sprinkle, we'll never get it right. Might as well be honest about

it, these critics say, listen to our subjective inner voices, and write and report from

8 a clearly stated point of view. Some journalists who think that way will surely

seize on public journalism as an excuse to do it. (Meyer)

With objectivity, an author’s writing becomes bland and stale, as he/she is concerned about simply presenting the facts and remaining an anonymous writer.

However, while remaining objective is not given priority in the writing, an author’s voice is able to be heard and his/her writing is more vibrant and engaging to the reader. When I contemplate my favorite journalists, a few names that come to mind include Hunter S.

Thompson, Tom Wolfe, and Andy Rooney. These writers and anchors share the common characteristic of expressing their views on matters while thoroughly researching the topics they report on (most of the time). The main point is that each one of these individuals was able to connect his voice to his words, a feat all journalists dream of, through stating their opinions in clever and informed ways. Thompson and Wolfe are most influential in the development of the “New Journalism” movement of the late

1950’s and 1960’s (Walker). “New Journalism” places special emphasis on the writer’s opinions, feelings, and experiences to form a cohesive and integral part of the story he/she is telling according to Walker. Thompson is also notable in the development of

“Gonzo Journalism,” which is a development and product of “New Journalism.” In it, the writer’s opinions on a particular matter are explicitly known and typically his/her writing takes a satiric approach to commonly serious subjects, such as politics and business, as a result (Walker). In modern journalism, the most notable disciples of this style are documentary filmmakers Michael Moore, who produced such documentaries as the labor layoffs of General Motors and the political background surrounding the September 11th attacks, and Morgan Spurlock, who examined the health effects of living off of

9 McDonalds for an extended period of time in his documentary Super-Size Me. These journalists are recognized for their approach to gathering and presenting accurate information as well as stating their opinions on subjects either explicitly or implicitly in their work.

While Meyer is obviously not an advocate of writing objectively, he does provide one solution to the subject of controversy regarding objectivity, and that is to practice an objectivity of method rather than an objectivity of result (Meyer). By remaining objective in method, a journalist creates a paper trail that others can follow and replicate accurately.

He/she becomes informed of an event or situation by analyzing the underlying causes of events, formulating theories, and executing tests on those theories (Meyer). In doing this, a writer can provide all the necessary information about a subject while still having his/her individual voice. This is essentially a recreation of the scientific method, which seems out of place in a literary context, but makes sense after reading and understanding

Meyer’s thoughts on the process.

This is scientific method applied to the practice of journalism. One of its beauties

is that it requires no departure at all from the enlightenment philosophy that gave

us our stance of prickly individualism. The political philosophers of the

eighteenth century derived their ideas from the development of scientific method.

Free expression should be encouraged, John Milton argued, because new things

are learned every day, and an idea that seems false now might be proved true

tomorrow. And even a false idea could contain a kernel of truth that, exposed to

light, would grow and prevail. (Meyer)

10 Expanding on Meyer’s thoughts on objectivity in journalism, Veronica Rusnak, a freelance writer and photographer, says that once the first-person perspective is used, objectivity is nullified (Rusnak). While using writing in the first person is an obvious breach of the fundamental rules of traditional journalism, sometimes doing so is necessary in the work. A general rule of thumb to knowing when to use this perspective is to use it when the only way to learn what you need to learn is through becoming a player in the subject matter (Rusnak). When bringing oneself into the work as a primary character, the author, whether intentional or not, is giving the reader an insight into his/her perspective on a matter and ultimately revealing his/her opinion on the matter.

This process of creative introspection, she argues, provides for a richer work that will be more engaging to the reader (Rusnak). In forgetting to remain objective and instead focusing on creating a character (i.e. establishing him/herself as a relatable and believable individual in the story), the author forces him/herself to study every aspect of the subject in question, which would carry over into their work and educate the reader on the general subject matter while persuading them to a certain view. I have already begun this process of educating myself on a subject, as I have spent time with the football coaches discussing aspects of the offense I will control. I have also begun self-evaluating performances in simple throwing sessions with my friends, nitpicking my throwing motion and release point in order to prepare for my debut.

While I can prepare all I want toward becoming a quarterback on the Maryville

College football team, I will step onto the gridiron as a novice at the position. This is a reality even the best participatory journalists must face. When discussing Ted Conover, a fellow participatory journalist who wrote books on subjects such as riding train cars with

11 hobos around America and being a prison guard, Rusnak made sure to note that in all of his works, he was a newcomer and that enriched the writing.

In almost all of his pieces, he starts out as a newbie, learning the ropes of

whatever character he’s assigned himself to become: fresh hobo hopping on his

first boxcar, brand new corrections officer, or even a consumer shopping around

for health clubs. He makes mistakes, he embarrasses himself, and he tells us about

it. “I portray myself in a ridiculous light, to make the reader empathize with me,”

he said. “Being dumb makes the reader relate and root for you,” he said. (Rusnak)

By being a newcomer, I hope to break down the stereotype of a sportswriter being a bitter non-athletic never-was and instead come across to my readers as a student of the game, and a humble one at that. I also hope that my archetypal “underdog” character will help me become a relatable individual to the audience. Also, since I am certain to embarrass myself on the field at one point or another, I hope to add a sense of self- deprecating humor to my writing as well, and give everyone a good laugh, athletes and average individuals alike.

However, while all of this is important to keep in mind during my creative portion of this thesis, it is equally important when using the first-person perspective to not allow myself to become the focal point of my creative chapter, instead allowing the team to be the “meat” of my work. Brad Shultz, who is an Assistant Professor of Journalism at the

University of Mississippi, notes that using the first-person perspective not only violates one of the traditional notions of journalism that frowns on the use of first-person perspective, but is also difficult to execute (Schultz 26). The difficulties in this practice are having the author becoming the central figure in the story and the relevancy of the

12 author’s opinions and/or participation to the story (26). An excellent example of the author becoming a character in his/her work is that of the Ft. Worth Star Telegram journalist Damien Pierce in his article about participating in a Texas Christian University

(TCU) Lady Horned Frogs basketball practice (26). Pierce sarcastically remarks that even though he is not in the best physical shape, it was “nothing a few weeks on the treadmill can’t fix” and that he might “embarrass a few Lady Frogs” with his killer crossover (26).

In making this sarcastic comment, Pierce is intentionally noting the physical demands of

NCAA Division I women’s basketball and giving importance to a sport that may be looked down upon because it is a “girl’s” sport. He is also maintaining his self- characterization without taking the focus away from the main point of his writing, which is the TCU women’s basketball program. This would be a good technique to keep in mind while I am writing about the Maryville College football team and would be another example of being in the story without being in the way of the story.

As I am writing in the first-person and creating a character for myself, it will be substantially more important for me to develop and personalize the characters of the football players and coaches. As stated earlier, while I am going to be an integral character in the story, the football players and coaches themselves are going to be the focus and central characters of the story. Strong characters are essential to any story, and this is no different when examining sports stories. Schultz further emphasizes this when he explains that focusing on the players and coaches humanizes the story and makes it more appealing to the audience, who might not have had any initial interest in the subject

(54). Humanizing the players can be either a hindrance or a blessing in my situation, as my familiarity with the team could help me relate their characteristics to the audience.

13 However, the same familiarity may make me lax in my description and my writing would be damaged as a result. With a strong familiarity among characters, my brain will be automatically “filling in the blanks” that my fingers will not write/type. For example, if I know that Coach Ierulli has messy black hair with specks of gray salting his head, it will take a reminder to ensure that those small details come into my work. In order to solve this problem, it will be necessary for me to keep characterization in mind while I am writing, which can be achieved by strong outlining and added emphasis of details in my notes. Schultz, however, notes that when the social context of the story is more important than the characters, the characters are still pivotal to relating the context to the audience.

Sometimes, stories have more of a social context than a human one, which is a

way of saying that the people in the story aren’t as important as the issue or

situation they face. Good writers still tell stories through people, but if the social

context has importance or significance, the people in the story are used to

illustrate that fact. Even a story about a relatively famous athlete can focus on the

social context. (54)

A primary example of this combination of establishing a strong character through a strong context is Stephen Rodrick’s Can Riddick Bowe Answer the Bell? which was cited by Schultz (54). In this book, Bowe, a former boxer, is characterized as a “lost soul” after winning the heavyweight championship and then losing it. Bowe spends the majority of his free time shadowboxing in front of his television and eerily states, “I mean, I’ve never done anything else. What else am I gonna do? Get a job?” Bowe is easily depicted as a sympathetic figure, but his character is displayed through his life’s circumstances (i.e. social context). The main message of the story is of a former athlete

14 who receives too much too fast, and how high profile sports “chews up and spits out so many athletes who don’t prepare themselves to compete in life,” (54). This work is an example of how a character can shine through social context and humanizes his/her characteristics, making him/her more relatable to the audience and making for a more interesting story for the audience. Social context adds another layer to the character. The author can do all he/she wants to do in terms of describing a character, but in describing and presenting a social context in which the character lives, the author creates a more rounded and vivid display of a character’s lifestyle. As I stated earlier, this aspect of journalism is not limited to sports journalism, but is important in all realms of journalism.

In terms of my project, I am not quite sure if there is a relevant social context within the football team that will be a pivotal part of my story. A few social contexts that could be examined on the Maryville College football team are the racial makeup of the players and coaches, the different locales the players come from, their status as a Division III football program that is not allowed to give scholarships to student athletes, and their changes from a bottom-dwelling team in the recent past to a up-and-coming team recently.

Perhaps I could go with the angle that Coach Ierulli is finally beginning to turn the

Maryville College football program around and see if aspects of that situation can be seen in the players and coaches. Not only will his coaching philosophies be examined, but so will he be examined as a person. How does he relate to his players? What is he like as a family man? How well does he handle players who do not like him as well? Does he care when a few of his players quit the team? Where is he from? What makes him tick as an individual? These questions, among many more, will allow me to obtain and gather a well-rounded view of Tony Ierulli the coach and person, which will help in my character

15 and context descriptions in my creative chapter. While this may not be the exact social context to be found in the story, whatever the situation is will be found in the duration of my study. This context will enrich my writing and make it relatable to the audience and hopefully make my writing more interesting to them.

Ethically speaking, one of the most important issues is also the building block on which journalism was built: the presentation of fact. In his book The Ethics of the Story:

Using Narrative Techniques Responsibly in Journalism, David Craig, a professor of

Journalism at the University of Oklahoma, says that seeking fact through interviewing requires careful corroboration and attribution (Craig 55). Through corroboration, a journalist is able to cross-check his/her sources by asking the interviewee questions based on others’ responses (56). For example, Craig cites an example of Barry Horn’s work on a story about an athlete at TCU who killed his father after being ruthlessly pushed to success by him (56). While the details are vague in Craig’s description and the introductory paragraphs of Horn’s work, a father (Bill Butterfield) pushed his son

(Lance) after a nonchalant comment from a TCU football coach on the son (“If your boy keeps his head on straight, he’s going to have a great future,” (57)). The father took this comment literally, and attempted to live vicariously through his son’s athletic ability, pushing him harder and harder until the son finally snapped. The story was a finalist for the American Society of Newspaper Editor’s award for non-deadline writing in 2003 and shows how important corroboration is in writing a solid piece (56). Horn talked to Lance,

Bill Butterfield’s wife, Butterfield’s best friend, and the university coach in compiling the information for his story. He would often corroborate between the sources in order to make sure all of the facts were straight.

16 “And when things were different I’d go back again. There’s a luxury here that I’d

go back to the people numerous times. I’d say, ‘OK, you said X. Kathy

remembers it as X with a little Y in it. Do you remember Y?’ ‘Oh yeah – I

remember Y and did she tell you about Z?’ Oh! OK. Now call Kathy back and

say, ‘Yeah I talked to the coach and he remembers this also,’ and she’d either say

‘Yes’ or ‘No’ and either she would ‘Yes, OK,’ and if she’d say ‘No,’ then I’d call

up the best friend and I’d go, ‘Here I know X, Y, or Z,’ or ‘I know X and Y but

there’s some question about Z. What’s your recollection about Z?’ And then it

would become a consensus about it.” (57)

This method not only helps reconstruct the facts of an event more fully, but also shows the interviewee that the reporter is dedicated to presenting only accurate facts

(Craig 56). Some journalists have gone to such lengths as to call a hotel just to find out the color of the carpet in one of its rooms (57). This reiterates the idea that a journalist will go to great lengths just to present a more complete, well-rounded, and accurate story to the audience. When readers read about details of the carpet, they are able to illustrate a more detailed mental image. At the same time, they will recognize the work and effort put in by the author and will have a better appreciation of the work as a whole. The mere fact that journalists would go through such lengths to present fact is in stark contrast to the New York Times’ Jayson Blair and USA Today’s Jack Kelley, whose collective fabrication of facts were highly publicized (57).

Though corroboration will help the reporter provide a more detailed and precise reconstruction of events, specific attributions will provide a visual signpost for the readers to trust the information given (Craig 60). For instance, readers will be more

17 receptive to a quote on the state of the stock market that was attributed to a stock broker than to a butcher. Not only do quotes provide visual signposts for the reader, those signposts also relate to the reader a concept of credibility. By crediting a source, the author is telling the reader that the information presented has been backed up by a person of authority. This goes into the idea of the stock market being discussed by a stock broker versus a butcher. A butcher’s opinion of the economy may be relevant in a story since he/she is a businessperson and directly deals in economics, but the stock broker is an expert who has studied trends and market fluctuations for a number of years. A specific example that I may come across in my experience is if quarterback Lucas Wall hypothetically comes up with a new offensive play, and coach Ierulli does not approve of it because he believes the play would not work against opposing defenses. While Wall has an intricate knowledge of Maryville’s offense, Ieruilli has many years of coaching experience on a number of different collegiate levels, which would make him the more reliable source as a coach and play-caller. By providing any kind of attribution to information, an author is putting his credibility as a journalist on the line to provide accurate and intellectual information to the audience.

One of the pitfalls, however, is over-attribution, which may bog down the writing and make the piece unreadable (Craig 62). This is especially evident when legal accusations are made by multiple people, as the journalist faces the dilemma of presenting accurate information at the risk of muddling his/her work (62).For example, if an author is writing about a person who is on trial for multiple thefts, does he/she present every charge against the thief? If he does, his work will be completely accurate, but his readability will be hindered. If he does not, then his work will flow smoothly, but will not

18 be entirely accurate. These techniques will be helpful in my third chapter because I will seek to question the statements of others to recreate the actual event and attribute quotes to a specific speaker in order to provide the readers both a narrative and a knowledge as to the person (i.e. “Maryville College starting quarterback Lucas Wall said…” rather than saying “Lucas Wall said…” or “he said…”). By defining Wall as the “Maryville College starting quarterback” rather than simply giving his name, the readers who are not familiar with the Fighting Scots football team will recognize Wall as a prominent individual in the team’s hierarchy and take what he says more seriously considering his title.

When attributing information, there are three different ways in which it can be done in a story. The first is an attribution that stays in the narrative, keeping the signal within the time and place of the scene being described (Craig 63). For example, if an author is discussing a home video found by a subject, he may write something along the lines of, “Rummaging through the attic, Sam found a home movie his father filmed the summer before his death.” This manner of attribution keeps the reader on a steady frame of time and keeps a consistent tense to the story. In the above example, saying that Sam had found a video keeps the reader in the present while presenting material in the past.

The video footage belongs in the past, and the audience will know any reference to the footage will be different than the present tense. It is important to note that the reader stays in the present tense while presenting material in the past. The second way in which a story can be attributed is what is called a “half step” out of the narrative (63). This usually utilizes the future tense, with phrases such as “would never” or “he’d later say” to keep the story in the current timeframe while indicating a future action (63). Stylistically, the author uses a conditional verb in the future tense such as “would” along with his main

19 verb in order to indicate a future action while still remaining in the present timeframe.

This style helps progress the narrative and indicates a subtle change and could help transition to a later idea or event. The final form of attribution steps all the way out of the narrative and looks back, providing an umbrella attribution for a scene (63). An example provided by Craig is of a story on a man named Enrique. The story begins with Enrique after he had been beaten, and later in the story Enrique provides his own account of the beating by signaling with the phrase, “Here is what Enrique recalls” (63). This style takes the audience from the present to the past via a person’s memory and attempts to recreate the events through the character’s eyes. Backtracking in this manner takes a lot of literary talent, as executing it properly involves the outcome of an event already being known and then a person’s memory of the event itself following. Interestingly, attributions such as

“he/she said” are used in narrative as little as possible (63). This is one of the most common attributions I have seen in newspaper writing. The two major schools of thought in this issue seem to be the literary journalist view of creating a cohesive flow to the narrative a piece versus a conventional journalist whose primary concern is the presentation of accurate facts and letting the audience know where the information comes from. This concept will be interesting to examine in my primary sources, as I believe style and technique in each are different and will provide different results. How prevalent is the phrase “he/she said” used in the novels and articles? Do such phrases slow down the narrative? How does the writing of a creative nonfiction piece versus a hard news story dictate this usage?

In order to get an adequate understanding of how to execute these literary and journalistic techniques, I will be analyzing the works of three participatory sports

20 journalists whose writings vary in terms of sports participated in while more importantly looking closer at the different time periods covered, interviewing techniques used, literary devices evident, archetypal characters found, characterization of players, coaches, and self, and the importance of setting in each work. I will not use one particular work as a carbon copy of a general outline to follow in my creative chapter. Rather, I will analyze both the positive and negative aspects of particular techniques of each author in order to formulate my own plan toward generating a third chapter that will display a unique perspective of a NCAA Division III quarterback while also exploring the deeper psyche of the players who are not playing on scholarships and the coaches who are not earning the same amount of money as their NCAA Division I counterparts.

21

CHAPTER II

ANALYSIS OF WORKS OF OTHER PARTICIPATORY JOURNALISTS

In order to properly write an entertaining and informative creative chapter of my project, I must take examples from other writers in their use of several mechanics of literary journalism to create a solid foundation for my work. These characteristics encompass character, setting, and theme, and must be executed at a high level in order to engage and captivate the audience. In properly utilizing these mechanics of participatory sports journalism, my story will also be a story that delves deeper than other traditional stories on sports. Through this analysis, I hope to be able to replicate aspects of the works and write a compelling third chapter.

The first component of participatory sports journalism that needs to be analyzed is characterization, both in terms of self and others. In presenting character, whether self or an outside individual, there are two different methods to develop and present a character: the indirect and direct methods. In the indirect method, an author or another character tells the “character’s background, motives, values, virtues, and the like,” (Burroway 154).

The direct method has four different parts to it: appearance, speech, action, and thought

(156). This method allows the character to describe him/herself and leaves the narrator as a transparent entity. This is important to remember, especially in the works of Plimpton,

Foley, and Verducci. Each of these works must not only characterize the various players

22 and coaches on the teams they participate on, but they also must characterize themselves in their experiences on and off the field using these methods.

Analysis of characterization can be broken down into two different sections. First,

I will explore self-characterization, and then I will look at the author’s characterization of those other than himself, namely the coaches and players in the three works. Each work follows a basic formula in terms of their self-characterization, as they give basic background information on their athletic experiences, how they handle the experiences on the field, and what they learn at the denouement of the work.

Establishing a character of oneself is a difficult task to embark on, but George

Plimpton was able to change himself from a transparent narrator into a humorous and humble narrator enthralled with his opportunity at an insider’s perspective. In his work alongside the Detroit Lions, George Plimpton embarked on a unique literary project, in which he plays for the Lions during the 1963 preseason as a quarterback. He goes through all the rigors of life on the gridiron and relates this information to the audience.

First, Plimpton established his athletic background, which consisted of soccer in high school and pick-up games of tackle football on the weekends, an activity that carried on into his collegiate years (Plimpton 10). From this information, it can be seen that

Plimpton had no formal training in football, and so his athletic ability on the gridiron is at a novice level. Even through the unique circumstances of his playing for the Lions, he said, “I’d like to be thought of as just another rookie, an odd one maybe, but no special favors or anything because I’m a writer. The point is to write about it first hand,” (6).

Plimpton establishes himself as a rookie to the game, and earns the athletes’ and readers’ respect through this statement of complete immersion with no shortcuts.

23 Plimpton’s ineptness at the position is further established when he begins the actual process of playing. He goes over aspects off the field, including going over the playbook in an offensive meeting (33-40) and getting fitted for pads (41-44) before finally stepping between the lines of the practice field. It seems like his respect for the game and players of football grows during practices and culminates during the Lions’ intrasquad scrimmage. Plimpton was given the assignment of starting for the first-team offense, running the first five plays of the offensive series against the first-team defense.

His respectful tone resonates in his words about quarterbacking those moments:

Everything fine about being a quarterback – the embodiment of his power – was

encompassed in those dozen seconds or so: giving the instructions to ten attentive

men, breaking out of the huddle, walking for the line, and then pausing behind the

center, dawdling amidst men poised and waiting under the trigger of his voice,

cataleptic, until the deliverance of himself and them to the future. The pleasure of

sport was so often the chance to indulge the cessation of time itself – the pitcher

dawdling on the mound, the skier poised at the top of a mountain trail, the

basketball player with the rough skin of the ball against his palm, preparing for a

foul shot, the tennis player at set point over his opponent – all of them savoring a

moment before committing themselves to action (234).

The previous section shows Plimpton’s respect not only for the Detroit Lions, but all professional athletes. During his five plays, Plimpton led his team from their own 30- yard line to their own one-yard line, losing 29 yards in five attempts. In this section his humor as a character comes through as well, as he makes light of his ineptness on the field by saying he would like another shot at the defense because he did not show them

24 everything he could do, which evoked laughter from his teammates (231). While his physical talents were undoubtedly limited, his respect for the game grew throughout his experiences, as well as his sense of belonging to the team.

Likewise, Jeff Foley was faced with the task of characterizing himself as a journalist-football player. He also joined a professional football team, but he was not a member of an NFL team, opting instead to join the Albany Firebirds of the Arena

Football League in 1999 and 2000. Foley started out playing in just one preseason game in 1999, only getting into the action on one offensive play. He was so scared on the field that he “bounded off the field, running full speed, much faster than [he] had during the play,” (Foley 43). Throughout the first portion of the novel, Foley discussed the fear he had while thinking about the game, signaling a respect for the ferocity and skill involved in the game. He then proceeds to inform the reader that he had never played organized football, and his only experience with the game involved a few pick-up games, the last of which caused him to break his leg and hip (51-52). He established himself as a novice, much like Plimpton, and gives the reader a good reference point as far as his athletic prowess is concerned.

Unlike Plimpton, Foley chose to play offensive specialist (i.e. strictly wide receiver in AFL terms) rather than quarterback. This aids in the identity of his character, as he will experience the game from the perspective of a wide receiver and explore how receivers see the game of football as well as the physical demand required of the position.

Also unlike his predecessor, Foley goes through preseason tests in strength and agility with the team, and even bench presses 225 pounds once (kind of) (91) and runs his 40- yard dash in a pedestrian 5.92 seconds (99). He is going through everything that

25 encompasses a modern preseason, and his physical limitations further accentuate the talent difference between a professional athlete and a common fan.

Throughout his experience, Foley gradually builds his confidence as well as his talent on the field. This resonates in his writing, as he begins to feel a sense of belonging on the team and talks about players like some would talk about a beloved brother. He begins to see himself as a football player to a degree, but also has a sense of separation.

At the onset of the book, he is Jeff Foley the writer, but toward the end of the book, he is

Jeff Foley the football player. One passage that exemplifies this sense of belonging involves Foley and a fellow player, Jake Hoffart, who explains why he helped Foley during a long conditioning session after practice:

“When you get on the field, you’re working together. That’s why you become

close with a lot of these guys, ‘cause you go through stuff mentally that you don’t

go through with any other people. When it’s classmates or anybody else, you

don’t go through the mental strain you do when you’re running gassers and you’re

about to puke and you’re still running.”

This is essentially one of the players telling Foley that he is a part of the Albany

Firebirds, which strengthens Foley’s sense of belonging to the team.

In contrast, Tom Verducci writes his experiences on the baseball diamond rather than the football field, and he does so as more of a transparent narrator at first, letting the audiences get a first-hand perspective on the athletes and coaches rather than himself.

Verducci gives his background information much later in the work when compared to the work of his peers. Unlike the two, he actually has legitimate experience in the sport he is participating in, as he played collegiately at Penn State University on the practice squad

26 (Verducci). This piece is interesting, because Verducci is essentially a transparent character who simply relates dialogue and events without describing himself, only focusing on the other players and the things happening around him until he actually hits the field. When he is in the batter’s box or on the field, he begins to describe himself within the scene, such as when he faced Chad Gaudin and actually made contact with the pitch and was surprised that he was able to catch up with the speed of the ball (Verducci), but ended up getting caught out on a pop-up. His explanation of this event is the best piece of writing in the article, because he uses common thought processes of fans in order to show how using those would fare for the average person in an MLB baseball game.

Since sportswriters fall significantly below utility infielders and pitchers in the

food chain of big league hitters, I assume Gaudin will attack me with a first-pitch

fastball. I have committed to swing at the first pitch since I woke up and ate a

bowl of instant oatmeal from the Spread. Gaudin swings his arm down, back, up

and through in that familiar, graceful but orthopedically damning circle of a big

league pitcher.

Here it comes. It is a fastball and it is a strike. I have prepared for everything

about this pitch except one thing: its speed. The baseball jumps on me so

incredibly quickly that I am transfixed. The ball has not just outraced my mind, it

has also fried its circuitry. Synapse shutdown. I cannot swing (Verducci).

This passage is incredible because it characterizes not only Verducci, but gives life to an otherwise meaningless pitch. The main point is that Verducci knew that Gaudin was going to try a first-pitch fastball because that is what most big league pitchers do to test a young batter. Even though he correctly guessed the pitch, the disparity in talent

27 level became more obvious since his brain could not catch up with the speed of the pitch.

While I do not think Verducci expected to come in and knock a home run out of the park,

I think he expected to be able to hang in at the plate based on his experience as a collegiate baseball player.

Later with the count at zero balls and two strikes, Verducci finally swung the bat and made contact. The wood was splintered in the process, and his arm vibrated “like a tuning fork and will for the next 30 minutes,” (Verducci). Seeing he had popped up, a fear suddenly struck him.

I run. I see Hinske, 235 pounds of Wisconsin beef, in the base line tracking it.

Panic is a rapid transit system to the brain, and I have time to imagine a collision,

the pain and the ignominy of a sportswriter blowing out the knee of the starting

first baseman. But Hinske catches it uneventfully. I am out (Verducci).

Although was able to hang in the batter’s box with a major league pitcher,

Verducci was aware that if he were to run into the starting first baseman and blow out his knee, not many Blue Jays fans would be happy.

While he was out in left field, Verducci was both excited and nervous at the possibility that a player might have hit a ball in his direction. Although he had experience in the game of baseball, he was still surprised because of the mere fact that he was out on the field alongside professional athletes. He really does not do much to describe this experience, only leaving a sentence or two. I believe he chose to do this based on the length limitations of his piece and wanted to dedicate more time to his experience in the batter’s box, which I can understand. The respect and admiration of professional athletes really comes through in his experiences in the batter’s box and lack thereof in left field.

28 At the conclusion of the game, Verducci is called into Skip Gibbons’ office where he is ultimately cut from the team. Verducci really did not have much self-characterization to speak of; the focal point of his article was on the professional athletes and coaches he worked alongside.

One of the most important aspects each of these works develops is characterization, but of the professional players and staff rather than self. Obviously, not all players are covered in this process, but the “bigger names” are given prominent roles in the narratives. In Tom Verducci’s article on the Toronto Blue Jays, we get a display of his teammates’ characters on his first day with the team. Cy Young award-winning pitcher Roy Halladay comes off as very business-like in his approach to the offseason, as he tells Verducci that was on the mound six times before training camp started, and can be seen from his pitches during Verducci’s first batting practice (Verducci). In contrast, second baseman Orlando Hudson is referred to by his teammates as the team’s champion trash talker and joker. In this instance, he and other teammates are deciding which player will join their preferred corner of the locker room (which Verducci notes is like a

Monopoly board in that some areas of the locker room have “higher value” than others)

(Verducci). In order to join this sacred corner, a player must submit a name for review of the elder players, with the player who thought of the best name joining the ranks. The winners, Reed Johnson and Johnny Mac, were announced as the winners like game show contestants after submitting the name “Oreo Row at Web Gem Way” (Verducci). This shows the joking and camaraderie that occurred during the preseason of baseball. One other character who is prominent in the work is outfielder Vernon Wells, who plays with vigor during the game, yet is calm and relaxed outside of it. His swing and his fielding

29 look effortless, yet he is one of the best at his position. One passage stuck out that really characterized his nature:

“Vernon's amazing,” Catalanotto says. “Twenty minutes before a game, you start

feeling a little nervousness, the butterflies. It's normal. But Vernon will be there

not even in his spikes yet, just kicking back. It's like he's going to play a game in

the backyard. He makes it look so easy,” (Verducci).

This statement by his teammate Frank Catalanotto accentuates Wells’ easy-going attitude, yet this attitude does not seem to interfere with his play at all, as Verducci notices how easy batting comes to Wells during a live batting practice session (Verducci).

With such a short piece, however, I believe Verducci had a difficult time adding depth to his characters, as he did not spend much time around them (only five days) and had limited space to develop them.

In contrast, both Plimpton and Foley had plenty of time and space to develop the characters in their novels. In Plimpton’s case, he spent a month alongside his teammates on the Lions squad, which shows in his characterization of players and coaches throughout the work. Plimpton began with a description of the organization as a whole, calling the Lions a “roughneck outfit” and a player’s football team, molded by “rounders

– which was an old football term for hellraisers,” (Plimpton 19). This sets the tone for his book, as the audience expects a group of rowdy football players, which they are indeed given. However, the characters in this book show a level of sophistication and complexity, much unlike their supposed personas.

For instance, during a hazing ceremony at dinner, rookie Jake Greer could not remember the words to his school’s alma mater, which veterans made rookies sing while

30 standing on their chairs (27). After the ordeal, Plimpton talked to Greer outside of the cafeteria, where he told the sportswriter that he knew the words to his alma mater but

“she warn’t coming to me back in there” (29). While this may have been used by

Plimpton as a chance to note the stupidity of the player, he displayed the feeling of the rookie who wanted to fit in with his new club and was dismayed at letting them down.

One of the veteran players, defensive back Night Train Lane, sat down and told Plimpton of his first experience in professional football and fighting for a position with the Los

Angeles Rams (139). He notes that the coaches already had two stellar defensive backs, but wanted to try Lane out at defensive end, to which Lane said to Plimpton, “Me, weighing 185 pounds soaking wet! So I went out there and dug in” (141). This shows not only the difficulty in joining a football team, but also Lane’s character as a player and a person, as his persistence does not allow hindrances such as a new position end his drive at becoming a professional football player. He finally gets a spot on the team after getting knocked upside down and still making a tackle, to which the coach runs onto the field screaming that was the type of player he wanted (141). This passage also emphasizes

Plimpton’s use of slang and vernacular, which further accentuates character traits. Instead of simply writing “here” if a player says that, he writes it as the player would say it, such as Night Train saying “heah” (142). This sets the character apart from other characters in the narrative, as it gives them a distinct voice and a unique vocabulary associated with their character.

When talking to defensive tackle Roger Brown, Plimpton got his first glimpse into one aspect of football players that has become a staple of their psyche: rage. While

Brown acknowledged that most football players have this anger when stepping onto the

31 gridiron, he said that anger typically does not leave the field. He also justifies this attitude as simply a football player wanting to win.

“It’s not hatred. You feel deep you want to win. It feels good to get to the

quarterback, but you never want to disjoint him. Mind, you want to let him know

you’re there. For sure. So I get plenty worked up. Home with the wife and then on

the field, I’m two different people – like Mr. Hyde and Dr. Jekyll. On the field-“

he began laughing – “I don’t know I’d like to meet myself on the field. I mean I

can think of other folks around that I’d prefer meeting” (185).

The level of depth Plimpton goes into gives readers an insight into the psyche of professional football players of the 1960’s. He is able to develop a relationship with the players through his participation on the team and is eventually seen as a teammate. This gives players more freedom in relating their thoughts to Plimpton, and he in turn writes these experiences down in the form of a narrative. This narrative reaches the audience and they feel a closer connection with the players and coaches. I believe this concept is the same through my experiences thus far, as I can note a difference between players off the field and during the game.

One other major character in Plimpton’s book is George Wilson, head coach of the Detroit Lions. He was a coach somewhere between a “player’s coach” and a “no- nonsense coach.” When Plimpton was pitching his idea to various organizations, Wilson was the only coach to personally write him back, saying his idea was “interesting” and immediately inviting him to their training camp, no questions asked (20). At first, he was apprehensive of having Plimpton being involved with team meetings and looking over their offensive and defensive playbooks, fearing that such vital information would be

32 leaked to opposing teams or the media (32), but eventually gave in and gave Plimpton a copy of both playbooks. While he was supportive of the idea of Plimpton’s experiential study, he was not going to coddle him as a player, showing his toughness as a coach.

When Plimpton’s number was called, Wilson expected him to be out there, no matter what. Plimpton was not allowed to miss a meeting or a practice, and he was treated just like a normal rookie would be treated. During one of Plimpton’s first plays in practice, the offensive line did not block the blitzing defense, which was often a rite of passage for offensive players to be bull-rushed in that manner, and it was just as “George Wilson had wished,” (87). This passage struck me awkwardly because Wilson came across as kind of sadistic in this moment. Here was Plimpton, an average sportswriter, getting thrown defenselessly to professional athletes on a coach’s orders.

While Wilson was coaching in a time period dominated by such imposing and dictatorial coaches like Paul Brown and Vince Lombardi, he was more of a players’ coach than any of his peers, though the time period made some dictatorship-qualities a necessity. Plimpton was introduced to a softer, more understanding side of Wilson after the Pontiac scrimmage, where the coach spoke candidly about coaching and his philosophic ideas as far as how to manage a professional football team. He notes that some players are easy to handle and take care of, as they are physically tough and can take a physical and emotional beating (245), but over time those same players may lose their knack for the physical punishment handed out in the realm of professional football, making them harder to deal with as their capability diminished as well (246). Wilson even goes into some depth when discussing his fellow coaches who are not “players’ coaches.” He says this happens when the coaches forget when they were players

33 themselves, and do not take the thoughts and emotions of players into consideration as they are coaching (246). Wilson also notes that in some instances, like with Vince

Lombardi, an organization would attempt to change the style of a coach into more of an imposing figure rather than an approachable one (247).

Through this description, Plimpton steps back as the narrator and lets Wilson describe himself, which Plimpton agrees with since he offers no rebuttals in the narrative.

This is an example of indirect characterization and this technique is seen in the other works, where the author will step back and let the character describe himself or another teammate. I think this is a very valuable tool to utilize, because who would be better to describe a person than either himself or someone who spends the majority of time with him? This can backfire, as the person will either over-accentuate his qualities or accomplishments, or will outright lie about himself. I believe Wilson can be trusted to describe himself, as he comes across as a straightforward and trustworthy character through Plimpton’s earliest descriptions.

Similarly, Foley’s characterization of football players and coaches captures the hardships and unique characteristics of those who live their lives on the gridiron. Unlike the NFL players, AFL players have other jobs in the offseason in order to make a living due to the AFL’s small wages. Leroy Thompson, a fullback and linebacker for the

Albany Firebirds, is anxious to begin the football season, but not only for the glory on the field:

“You can’t ask for a better life,” Thompson says. “You get to hang out with the

guys you know and love, and travel, eat in nice restaurants, make a little money,

34 be able to buy your family and friends nice things that you can’t usually buy when

you’re working nine to five” (Foley 74).

This statement shows that Thompson not only loves the camaraderie found with his teammates, but also the opportunity to provide a better life for his family. While most would think of football players as only loving the game on the field, Thompson breaks that stereotype by showing his love for his actual family.

When Foley introduces us to defensive specialist Derek Stingley, the audience finds a player who is full of hope and promise. While he spent eight days with the New

York Jets during an AFL offseason, he had yet to crack the ranks of the NFL. He was a premiere defensive player in the AFL and gave thanks to the league for offering him an opportunity to display his skills for NFL scouts, always confident that somewhere a scout would see his abilities on the field and offer him a spot in the “big league,” (85). Even though his dream of playing for the NFL was shattered once he was released during the

Jets’ training camp, he was still grateful for getting the opportunity to play for the best football league in the world (86). This shows both how hopeful he is in obtaining his dream of playing in the NFL and how grateful he is for the existence of the AFL for giving him the opportunity to play. We also learn that he was a teacher in New Orleans when he was not playing football, and he did not even play college football:

“Anybody that’s playing football wants to play in the NFL. It’s the ultimate goal.

That’s the reason why people put on the pads and helmet. To play in the NFL.

The thing that drives me, I was there and I know I should’ve stayed there. I want

to show other teams that just because I didn’t play college football, I’m still an

athlete. And you can come to the Arena Football League and you can ask any one

35 of these coaches or players how good of a player I am. I’m not upset that I’m not

there (in the NFL), but I have a point to prove. I’ve gotta get back,” (86).

This quotation shows his drive and his desire to play in the NFL, regardless of his previous experience. He exudes confidence in his abilities and believes that he can achieve his dream. However, even though he is confident, he does not come across as cocky, like most stereotypical football players. This is another example of indirect characterization, as Foley allows Stingley an opportunity to talk about his thoughts and desires, which in turn gives the audience a more intimate description of Stingley’s character. In putting his accomplishments on display for the audience, Foley accentuates

Stingley’s promise and talent on the football field. He also does not come across as cocky in his discussion with Foley, which also adds humility to his character.

Eddie Brown, the team’s offensive specialist, has a similar approach to the game.

He seems confident in his abilities, and why should he not? He won the AFL Player of the Year award twice and his job security was obviously in place (116). When he came into the Firebirds organization, he was fifth string and did what he needed to do to ensure he had a job and tried to give that knowledge and experience to other rookies looking to break into the league (116). He does not seem cocky, but confident in his abilities much like Stingley. He does not care whether or not a player is able to come in and play his position, because that means he can rest a play or two on offense. His job is safe, to say the least, with the Firebirds organization. All of this information is important in understanding Brown’s character. He is gifted and talented, yet humble and does not boast unless prodded, which is what Foley had to do. His nickname is “Touchdown”

Eddie Brown, but he is nothing like the flamboyant receivers seen in the NFL.

36 One other prominent character in Foley’s work is the Firebirds’ head coach, Mike

Dailey. He is a unique character as a coach, because during the time period this book covers, the Bear Bryant-type coaches who did nothing but yell at their players were beginning to dwindle, and Dailey represented a new model of coach. In Foley’s first game with the team, Dailey offers to let him sit on the bench and watch the game if Foley finds the action on the turf too much to handle (31). This is unheard of in Plimpton’s book, as he was practically thrown to the wolves with little regard, and Maryville head coach Tony Ierulli told me to expect to be treated like a player with few special considerations. Even before the biggest game in most of the teams’ collective careers

(ArenaBowl XIII) Dailey was unusually calm and relaxed, often inspiring the team during their final practice before the game by reminding them of their talents and goals of a championship (62). Dailey also jokes around with Foley when he must trade his sleek, nonrestrictive pads for a more bulky set, saying that Foley is “ready to hit now” (132).

While he is described as a player’s coach throughout the book, he also has the coldness and bluntness of an old-school coach at times.

“I know we’re throwing a lot of information at you and you’re not getting all the

reps you want, but you have to be smart,” Coach Dailey says. “That’ll be the

difference when we play Carolina Thursday. You’ve got to know the plays, or

we’re going to watch game film and say, ‘There’s a guy who can’t learn the

plays.’ That’s the difference between a good player and a great player” (132).

While this may have seemed like a simple instance of a coach trying to motivate his team, it is also a fair warning that player cuts will be imminent, and a few busted plays can result in a player being sent home. This process occurs throughout the latter

37 portions of the book, with Coach Dailey often using pleasantries such as, “Hey partner, can I see you for a minute?” in order to make the cuts easier to conduct on a personal level (140). While cutting players and trimming the roster is a part of the job, Dailey ultimately comes across as a players’ coach who treats his team like a family and is a consistent presence who keeps the team’s focus throughout the season. Dailey even confesses that he does not like making cuts because of the personal bonds he develops with players in such a short amount of time, often saying the termination can turn emotional quickly (142). However, he must do what is best for his team and keep only players who can adapt to his needs. He recognizes that while he enjoys being a friend to the players, he must do his duties as a coach in order to get the Firebirds in the best situation possible.

One important aspect of any engaging literary work that is often overlooked is the use of setting. Each work uses setting in different ways, and based on the date, time, location, and sport played, each work utilizes physical surroundings in order to flesh out the narrative and make the words form a more perfect visual depiction in the mind of readers.

In Verducci’s article, the audience is immediately introduced to the surroundings, as Verducci sensationalizes the sights and sounds of playing in an actual MLB game in order to portray a sense of excitement to be actually standing in left field for the Blue

Jays. He says, “Never can I remember the sky bluer, the grass greener, the sun brighter,”

(Verducci). This immediate introduction places the reader in an immediate time and place, and also gives the sense of the author’s excitement and giddiness at that moment in time. Later in his work, Verducci describes his first day of training camp in a cramped

38 classroom followed by a dimly-lit field house, where hitters would track pitches thrown by a pitcher (Verducci). While this may not seem glamorous or exciting, this is the life of a baseball player that Verducci wished to portray. Not all their time is spent on the field, especially considering the team meetings that must take place as well as weather constraints that could occur. Interestingly, once Verducci gets live batting practice on the field, the audience is not given a description of the field or his surroundings, only getting an intent focus on the ball, the pitch, the swing, and what happened to the ball. This lack of description gives the reader a closer sense of focus and intent on the author’s part, as he was more interested on the action between the lines rather than the field around him.

During the intrasquad scrimmage, Verducci describes the scene in the dugout as calm, yet tense. No one is talking or chattering, save for Orlando Hudson, and everyone seems to be thinking seriously about the game and their performance (Verducci). While he does not go into detail about the field, one passage I found fascinating was his description of stepping into the batter’s box and the battle that ensues between the pitcher and the batter.

“I step into the batter's box, placing my right foot in the hole McDonald scraped

inside the back chalk line. I am aware of nothing but Gaudin -- not the crowd, not

the infield in and Lord knows not the blue sky. This moment is the essence of the

game, its molecular core. It is why we love baseball as we love a family member,

while the other sports have to manage with our lust, infatuation or uncommitted

affection. Either I will win or Gaudin will win, and even the most rudimentary fan

will immediately know it. No one will have to wait for the game films. And no

teammate can help me” (Verducci).

39 This passage beautifully describes the scene between the pitcher and the batter, as they are battling each other one-on-one, and one person must lose the fight. Verducci beautifully uses tense language to make such a routine, every game occurrence into an epic war between two opposing forces.

In order to set the stage for his book, Foley starts with his experience with the

Albany Firebirds during their preseason game against the Milwaukee Mustangs. He first begins his description in the locker room, opening the book with the line, “God was in high demand in locker room C at the Bradley Center in downtown Milwaukee,” (Foley

1). This statement immediately places the action inside of a locker room, and probably before a game due to the reference to prayer. This proved to be the case, as players were in prayer, listening to music, or giving pregame speeches to their teammates. The mood is excited, yet tense as players prepare for the game. When on the field, Foley gives the audience an insider’s perspective on what a wide receiver sees when on the field. First, eyes go to the cornerback covering him, and then to the quarterback as he slides his hands under center and starts barking out signals (41). Foley gives us a sense of isolation in his description, as he is all alone, one-on-one with a Milwaukee cornerback looking to jam him off of the line. As a player, his confidence dwindled to nothing when he saw how big his defender was as well as the space he was given (41).

One interesting thing to note about this book when compared to Plimpton’s is the season the preseason occurs in. While Plimpton practiced in the typically cold Michigan, he did so in the summer, where temperatures stayed warm, Foley played during the chilly

March weather of upstate New York. This variance in temperature has a direct impact on

40 the description of setting, especially when Foley discusses an after-practice passing session with quarterback Jeff Loots and defensive back Derek Stingley.

“It’s too cold to stay out on the field much longer. Even with receiver’s gloves on,

my hands hurt. As Sting jogs toward us with a grin though, I know I can’t tell him

to go away. He’s trying to help me get ready for the game against the Cobras, and

I’m sure he’d find rejection insulting” (146).

The cold weather definitely has an impact on Foley, as he finds it nearly unbearable after a long practice, and the audience gets a sense of his fatigue throughout the drill, as he does everything he can just to survive on the field. The setting is key too, as it involves two professional players looking to hone their craft with an inexperienced writer, showing their level of dedication to the game and improving as players, especially in the wintery conditions after a long practice.

In his last great moment on the field, Foley makes his lone reception, but we are not given a description of the field. This lack of setting description may be once again utilized by the author to highlight the importance of the play and accentuate its meaning, as Foley slows down a play that maybe lasted all of five seconds into a narrative that lasted over one page. He does not even describe the man lining up across from him, instead only focusing on the play itself. Although I would have liked a traditional description, I feel like this method works well when highlighting an importance play or scene in a work, and I hope to utilize in my creative chapter.

One other aspect of narrative writing I hope to learn from is the development of theme. While each work has one or any number of themes throughout their work, I found that Verducci’s article was not as well-developed due to its brevity as a magazine article.

41 There does not seem to be much of a strong theme throughout the work, as it reads more like a diary than a Sports Illustrated article. Verducci does touch on some aspects of baseball, such as the code of conduct among players that was broken by the tell-all book written by Jose Canseco, which some players find perplexing that a former player would break that sacred bond among players (Verducci).

One theme that is evident in all the works, however, is the overall difficulty of the sport to the average layperson. While taking a screaming pitch down the gut of the plate may look easy through a screen, the truth is Verducci, who played baseball in college and has more refined baseball experience, did everything he could just to pop the ball up or foul it off (Verducci). In Plimpton’s work, his appreciation of the game of football grows exponentially throughout, even though he came into the project knowing the difficulties of playing professional football. His interactions with players and coaches cause his respect for those who are able to do such a simple thing as take a snap grow as he gets deeper and deeper into the experience (Plimpton 59). While Plimpton had some thoughts and wishes of success, those were dashed once he actually got into a game and lost 29 yards in only a few plays (240). In Foley’s case, his respect for the game grew throughout the work as well, but he had a head start as he played in a preseason game nearly a year before even beginning camp. His lone moment of glory in the initial chapter of his book saw Foley go five feet past the line of scrimmage rather than the five yards called for on account of his awe on the field (Foley 42). He soon discovered that he physically could not hang with his adopted teammates, unable to lift 225 pounds even once and running the 40-yard dash in over five seconds, slower than some linemen on the team. While he fared better than Plimpton on the field (only losing two yards instead of 29) (301), both

42 had a deepened respect for professional football players after going through their respective camps.

Another common theme found in both the work of Plimpton and Foley is the fear of losing a job, whether it is by a new player coming in and taking over a starting position or being outright cut from the team. In his book, Plimpton was told of this dilemma by

Wayne Walker, who was critiquing the play of a rookie playing in his position at linebacker.

“Veterans don’t love rookies…A regular, particularly an old-timer, will do almost

anything to hold on to his position short of murder…You [Plimpton] are not quite

what we’d think of being a ‘threat’! But you start completing some passes and

hanging on to the ball, and doing something sensational, and you’ll see if you get

anything but the back of their hand from Plum or Morrall. You threaten them for

their jobs and you’d be like to get a time bomb in your soup. You’ve got to be a

son-of-a-bitch to play this game right” (Plimpton 89).

This thought process is generally accepted and shared by the other veterans on the team who are fighting for a job just like the rookies, even though they have the distinct advantage of investing more time in the program. Getting cut, however, is always a danger faced while at the Lions’ camp, as was seen after the first few days of camp. In one instance, an offensive tackle, who was a veteran, was embarrassed to be cut and wanted to get out of town as quickly as possible. He had no idea where to go, and his livelihood was taken from him and forced him into unemployment (257). This danger loomed over the players, especially the rookies, and some lost sleep over a poor performance at practice.

43 In Foley’s work, the risk of being cut is more prevalent as the roster size is much smaller in the AFL than the NFL, as each team only has enough space for fewer than 40 players. Veterans who have played with the team have an even greater advantage, as they have shown they could adapt to playing both offense and defense. Rookies are generally the victims of the “grim reaper,” since they are accustomed to playing only one side of the ball and not both (Foley 141). Cuts are generally easier to swallow at this level of the game, but jobs are still at stake.

Most players at that level, however, have aspirations of making it into the NFL, and that comes through in their language and actions. The dream is still alive, and some players even wear the gear of an NFL team that drafted them and cut them, hoping to one day make it back to the big show. Terry Guess, a wide receiver and linebacker for the

Firebirds, often wears his New Orleans Saints team jacket around, showing that he had made it to the league, but needed the AFL to help him get back one day. “This is a place to come play and stay in shape. It’s a new learning experience,” Guess said (164). This view is shared by most players, seeing the AFL as a springboard to a bigger, better career in the NFL.

While in my experience no one really gets cut from the Maryville College football team, there are still underlying themes to be found. The biggest one, I believe, is the fight for a USA South conference championship, which is still attainable despite the teams’ 2-1 record in the conference through five weeks of the 2008 season. For years Maryville has been the cellar-dweller in the conference, but last year improved dramatically to a 7-3 finish. This year, conference championship thoughts have been planted into the heads of players, but this goal has proven to be difficult after the career-ending injury to last year’s

44 quarterback Lucas Wall, all-conference safety Corey Boatman getting booted from school, and the departure of key receivers Ryan Gaines and Zack Julian from the team due to transfer. Another theme I see is the shift in psyche throughout the team as a whole.

For years, no one has expected much from the Fighting Scots, and now they have been selected for a third-place finish in the conference according to preseason polls. So far, handling the expectations has been rocky at best, dropping two games that should have easily been won. As the season closes, I hope to see these themes flesh out into a pivotal part of my experience with the team.

45

CHAPTER III

MY LIFE AS A FIGHTING SCOT

If you asked me what I was doing out there that morning, I couldn’t tell you at the time. It was about 6:40 a.m. on a March morning, and the temperature was in the high

30’s. Sweat was starting to drip from my forehead while my hands rested on top of my head to open up my lungs better. Somewhere between fifty or sixty players stood on the pavement of Maryville College’s baseball parking lot, waiting further instruction from

Scots head football coach Tony Ierulli. “What am I doing here?” I thought to myself. “I should be in bed, waking up in about two hours.”

“That last group, do it again!” Ierulli’s voice bellowed from the other end of the lot. We had been running suicide sprints for the last quarter of our 6 a.m. workouts, already going through two sprints. My group had been called back for an unknown reason. One of the players chimed in.

“What did we do coach?”

“Wheatley didn’t touch the stinking line! Now that whole group has to go again…and touch the line!” Ierulli yelled. What a way to make a first impression to a bunch of guys who, at this point, were not my biggest fans.

Everyone I told my senior thesis idea thought I was insane. My thesis advisor,

Kim Trevathan, was skeptical as to whether or not I could make it as a quarterback.

46 “You’re going to go out to play quarterback?” he asked, emphasizing the position during one of my trips to his office. I could see where his doubts came from. Here I was,

6’2”, 245 lbs, and as mobile as elephant, and I wanted to play quarterback for the

Maryville College Fighting Scots.

The fresh air and exercise were definitely going to be plusses, but I wanted to examine the art of participatory journalism, much similar to the likes of George Plimpton and Jeff Foley. Unlike the two of them, however, I was going to endure an entire season with the Scots rather than a preseason. Ierulli and I had already discussed the particulars.

Walking into his office at the rear of Cooper Athletic Center, I was intimidated.

The scene was taken directly from a mafia movie, which was fitting considering Ierulli’s

Italian heritage. He sat behind his desk glancing at the computer screen, taking his eyes off for a second to greet my entrance. His office was surrounded by memorabilia, notably a white Maryville College helmet with a power M on both sides. Several pictures hung from the walls, dating back to his days as a beginning coach.

“Hey Kevin, have a seat,” he said, motioning to the seat in front of him. We’d been emailing back and forth for a few days, and I arranged a meeting to discuss a potential project. I’d also covered Maryville College football games for the Knoxville

News Sentinel for a year, so our paths had already crossed. I obliged his request, taking a vacant seat across from him and immediately jumped into telling him about my senior thesis idea. He sat there and pondered it.

“Ever play football before?” he asked, leaning back in his seat with his black hair, peppered with specks of grey, disheveled on his head. His eyes studied me behind a small

47 pair of reading glasses. I told him I had back in high school for two years, playing on the offensive and defensive lines.

“Well, this isn’t high school football anymore. It’s going to be a lot harder than you think.”

“How much harder?” I asked, starting to question my decision already.

“Let’s see…we typically practice about three hours a day, from August until

November, and there are a few two-a-days during camp. There’s also a lot of conditioning involved. I want to make sure my players are in their best shape before going into a game. Ummm…what else…oh, and since you’re a quarterback you can’t get hit in practice, but that makes the hits tougher to take during a game.”

He stopped for a minute. He could see I was thinking, and to tell the truth I was.

During high school our practices were about an hour and a half, not twice that much. And

I hadn’t been running in a long time. And I was worried that Ierulli might put me in a game just as a sick joke. And…

“Well what do you think?” Ierulli broke my train of thought. “Do you still want to give this football project a shot?”

“I’m in,” I responded without thinking. I knew my rash decision was going to be physically demanding, but would be an invaluable experience.

* * * *

I didn’t do too much over the summer in preparation. I participated in a handful of passing sessions led by Scots’ offensive coordinator Ryan Hansen, finding that my throwing skills were slim. I also spent some time getting into better shape, jogging through the college woods a few times a week (on a good week). I also spent some time

48 getting accustomed with the offensive plays, even though I didn’t have a playbook yet. I tried to remember the plays and how to call them, which left me stumped at times.

“How’s it going?” Hansen asked me one day when I stopped by his office. We talked primarily about the upcoming season and how we fared. The Scots lost their starting quarterback, Lucas Wall, to a degenerative back condition which was diagnosed over the summer as well as all-conference safety Corey Boatman due to academic reasons. We started talking about the incoming freshman class, which had Hansen optimistic about the coming season.

“We picked up a lot of good guys,” he told me. “The biggest for us is Derek Hunt, the old Maryville High School quarterback. He went to Tennessee last year for school, but he transferred in and I’ve been working with him on the offense as much as I can.

Ryan Roach is also a good one. I think he could step in and get some playing time in our receiving core.”

We talked more about the incoming freshmen, and our conversation petered off into a discussion about Division III football in general.

“You know, there are a number of people out there who really love Division III football. There’s a guy back home in Iowa who really gets into it and loves talking about it. I don’t know what it is, but I guess it’s the fact that we don’t give scholarships. The guys that come out here and play do it because they love the game enough to do it for free.”

The day finally came when players reported for camp. I paid my $125 dues for equipment and a warm-up suit. I saw a few players I knew from the last semester.

49 “You still here, baby?” defensive back Demetrius Christian said, his long afro pulled into a ponytail behind his head. “Hey, Phil G., take a look at who’s here?”

Phil Garrett was standing in line and looked back at me, immediately cracking a huge smile.

“Shoot man, you gonna ball on us out there QB man?” Phil asked.

I told him I was planning on ballin’ all throughout camp and practice, and they both laughed.

After getting my first set of pads in a little over four years and eating dinner, it was time for the team meeting. After listening to Sharon Wood, the head trainer, talk about the importance of hydration, it was time for Coach Ierulli to speak.

“We have a target on our backs gentlemen,” he said in front an auditorium packed with over 100 players. “We’re ranked third in the conference’s preseason poll, and that’s the highest we’ve been ranked since we’ve joined the USA South. We need to go out there and show them this is where we belong.” The slogan for the season was “Race for the Ring,” which was used to motivate the team toward a USA South conference championship in the 2008 season.

Following his speech, a highlight film of the previous season was played for the team and then it was time for the players to stand up and introduce themselves.

‘Great,’ I thought. ‘What the hell am I going to say?’ My time got shorter and shorter as players ahead of me gave their names, hometown, high school played for, and position. And then it was my turn.

“My name is Kevin Wheatley, I’m from Frankfort, Kentucky, I went to Lexington

Catholic High School, and I’m going to try to play quarterback.”

50 Laughter roared from the returning players who were in on the joke. Even coach

Ierulli cracked a smile and joined in with a long laugh.

I wasn’t laughing the next day, when the team went through their conditioning test, which consisted of 16 110-yard sprints made in a set period of time.

First, the linemen went through their circuit, the offensive linemen getting 20 seconds and the defensive linemen getting 19 seconds to complete each sprint. Everyone made it look easy, with only a handful of players not making time, usually only by a second or less.

“Okay, semi-skill positions,” coach Elliott shouted to the huddled mass on the sideline. “Tight ends, fullbacks, quarterbacks, and kickers.”

We all lined up and got in a three-point stance, ready for the whistle. The sharp shrill pitch jarred us out of our stances and we took off toward the other end zone.

I made the first few sprints with time to spare, my confidence growing with each one. My heart was beating furiously and my lungs couldn’t take in enough oxygen.

Right after the whistle for our fourth 110, I felt like I was dragging 50-pound weights where my feet used to be and a tingling shot up my right leg. ‘I’m going to eat it in front of the whole team,’ I immediately thought.

It was one of those moments where time slows down. After the first few steps, I knew a fall was inevitable. A couple of options ran through my mind at that time. I could either: a) Try to catch myself and probably break both wrists in the process, or b) Attempt a headfirst baseball slide, for show of course.

I went with the latter option and needless to say the landing wasn’t as graceful as I thought it would be. But I still got up and finished. It felt like my lungs were on fire and

51 muscles in my leg that I didn’t even know existed were torn, but I crossed the line. I immediately felt like an idiot and heard laughter from the linemen in the stands. My hamstrings were burning and my lungs felt like they were about to collapse. I lay on the ground for a brief moment reassessing my decision to join the football team. Surely it wasn’t too late to change my topic to something more conventional and safe. I could stick my nose in a mountain of books. It would be boring, but the only physical concern I would have would include paper cuts and writer’s cramp. Something inside of me stirred and I got up on my feet and finished the run. Each 110-yard dash after the fall had me limping to the line and gasping for air, but eventually I finished them all, coming in dead last each time.

“Damn Wheatley,” a voice said from behind me after the running tests were over.

I looked back and saw Shaun Hayes, who coached defensive backs for the Scots. “I thought you tore both your hamstrings out there man!” I laughed along with him and assured him the tingling in my legs had nothing to do with a hamstring tear.

“Well I’ll tell you something,” he said seriously. “You finished it out when you could have just gone on the sidelines and sat this stuff out. That’s something right there.”

Coach Hayes’ words hung in my head and I felt proud of my efforts, even if my performance was less than ideal.

The next day, it was time to go on the field for the first practice of the 2008 season for the Scots. One of the most prevalent issues this year was replacing last season’s starting quarterback Lucas Wall, whose young career was prematurely ended due to a degenerative back condition.

52 “It just kind of happened,” Hansen said of the injury. “I was kind of taken back by it at first, because I was expecting him to be here this season and the next. The news really put a damper on my plans for this season, but I think we’ll be able to move forward.”

Hansen’s options for Wall’s successor were sophomore Tim Conner and recently transferred freshmen Derek Hunt. Neither of the two had taken a snap at the collegiate level, and Hunt spent a year away from football as a student at the University of

Tennessee. Conner was more disciplined in the offensive system at Maryville, but

Hansen worked with Hunt over the summer in order to get him up to speed. From my personal evaluation, Hunt was a good passer with decent arm strength and accuracy, but he was more of a threat with his feet than Conner. On the other hand, Conner was, in my opinion, a better passer than Hunt, throwing deep passes with precision and ease. The only distinct edge Hunt had over Conner was the coaching he received while at Maryville

High School, a perennial power down the street from Maryville College.

I admired both of the players because they made running the quarterback position look simple. Throwing did not look like a difficult task, as they could throw it on the run, across their bodies, off their back feet, or stepping up in the pocket. My throwing ability was limited even when I was standing still, let alone moving around. By comparison, they both looked like Peyton Manning while I looked more like Ryan Leaf. With the flick of a wrist, their balls would spiral toward their targets, while mine with be lucky to make it within five yards of the receiver.

“What’s up Wheatley? You ready to go out here and play?” Conner asked me as we walked onto the Scots practice field next to Cooper Athletic Center. For the first day

53 of practice, we did not wear shoulder or leg pads, instead wearing practice shorts and jersey. My practice shorts, black mesh with “Maryville College Football” on the right leg, had the number 103 on them. My orange practice jersey was adorned with the number 11, and I limped my way over with Conner to warm up. My legs still burned from the previous day’s running test. I told him I was about as ready as I could be for a fat quarterback, and asked him how he spent his summer in preparation.

“When I heard about Lucas, I really hit the conditioning hard,” he said. “I knew I wasn’t as fast as I could be, and I really worked hard to get into shape and get quicker with my feet. I also threw a little bit too, just to make sure I get all the rust out of my arm.

It’s going to be tough this year trying to be the starter, but I’m ready.”

This was a far cry from my conditioning regimen, which consisted of smoking cheap cigars, eating Little Caesar’s pizza, and working in between. I squeezed a few throwing sessions and running around the College woods every once in a while, but I definitely could have done more to get in shape and prepared.

Over the next few days, I struggled to keep pace with my fellow teammates, but I was surprised by how well I progressed over a short amount of time. The headlines of the summer were not focused on me, however. Blount Today did not have anyone interviewing me, nor did The Daily Times’ headlines read, “FIRST-YEAR

QUARTERBACK WHEATLEY COMPLETES FIRST PASS OF CAMP;

TEAMMATES, COACHES ELATED WITH PROGRESS.” Instead, every pair of eyes in the Blount County and surrounding media outlets were focused intently on the quarterback battle brewing on the Fighting Scots’ practice field.

54 Every day it seemed like Hunt, Conner, or both were being interviewed by The

Daily Times’ Chris James, a first-year writer for the local newspaper. While his talents as an interviewer and writer were questioned by several on the team, no one could question his consistency.

“Man,” Hunt said walking up to the other quarterbacks. He had just gone through one of his interviews with James. “That guy is something else. He asked me how close

Tim and I are and if we wouldn’t be friends anymore once the starter was announced.”

“Who said we were friends to begin with?” Conner chimed in. “He’s making a pretty big assumption that I even like you Derek.”

“Ha, you’re one to talk,” Hunt replied. “I’m also sick of being asked how it feels to play football again after taking a year off. I might just walk off if he asks me that again.”

Randy Swafford, a senior tight end, walked up to our area of the field. He had a grin on his face and was shaking his head.

“You won’t believe what he just asked me,” Swafford said.

Everyone among the group asked, expecting another pointless question. I knew

James was just doing his job and trying to make an interesting story, but there is a big difference in an intriguing story and one filled with mainly “fluff facts,” as I call it.

Creating “fluff facts” involves asking questions that have nothing to do with the heart of the story and give facts that are irrelevant to the story as a whole.

“He asked me how much of the playbook Derek has down. I don’t know why I’m in charge of knowing that, but I guess I should start finding out.” This is a good example of a “fluff fact.” Apparently Swafford had told James in a previous interview that he had

55 helped Hunt with about 50 or 75 percent of the playbook under his belt, as well as basics of the offense. I guess James had seen a story in it, because he asked Swafford the question throughout fall camp. What relevance does the consumption of the playbook have on the quarterback battle? If he did not have a clean grasp of the playbook, would

Hunt even be in the competition? Why not just ask him directly, and if this question must be answered, why hammer it into the ground on a regular basis?

Sadly, “HUNT HAS 94.6% OF SCOTS PLAYS DOWN; SWAFFORD PROUD” never made it to the sports section of The Daily Times.

Camp was a blur, filled with two-a-days and long practices in the summer heat.

The worst part of practice was definitely the running right at the end of the day. These initial practices would leave me damn near crippled, often limping back to my dorm because of the tightness in my hamstrings, crushing shin splints, or simple fatigue.

Toward the end of camp my moment of glory finally came. The Scots were scrimmaging Birmingham-Southern College on the last week of camp. Both quarterbacks led the offense downfield on scoring drives and kept the race tight. With about 30 seconds left to go in regulation, I heard my named being called. It was time for mop-up duty. After handing off my notepad to Hansen before running onto the field, I was ready.

It was time to shine, baby.

I walked up to the line and listened for the play. Hansen called in a zone run to the left. I relayed the play to my waiting teammates and assumed my position under center.

‘Okay,’ I thought to myself. ‘Step one; get the snap from the center. Step two, if I get that far; open up to the play side and hand the ball off to the back. Step three; finalize the play with a beautiful rollout to draw an eager defensive end away from the play.’

56 While I executed the first two steps without a hitch, my rollout was less than perfect. I stumbled after my first few steps and almost ran smack into defensive line coach Mark Chait, who was moonlighting as a referee after the regulars decided to beat the traffic out of Lloyd L. Thornton Stadium.

“Easy there Paper Lion. You don’t want me to kick your ass on camera do you?”

Chait said with a laugh.

Well, at least I didn’t turn the ball over.

I went to the sideline as time expired and retrieved my notepad, only to find offensive line coach Jim Elliott had taken the liberty to write, “I sucked,” with an emphasis on the word “sucked,” which I think was a fair assessment. I’m no Michael

Vick when it comes to rolling out.

Toward the end of camp, I stopped by Hansen’s offense to chat for a bit as well as make an attempt to get some inside information on the quarterback race. Camp was almost over and a starter had not been announced. Hansen had to face one of the toughest decisions he had to make in his coaching career.

“It’s tough,” he told me in his office. “They’re both really good at different things and I think either one of them could lead this team to a very successful season. I wish I wasn’t in this position, but it is better having two really strong competitors than to have none.”

The next day, Hansen made a decision, but not formally. Everyone on the team knew when Conner sat out once the first-team offense went up against the first-team defense that Hunt had won the job. Conner looked noticeably upset while resting on one

57 knee on the sideline. I made my way over to him and took a knee next to him, supporting my body with my helmet.

“Yeah, I’m pretty fucking pissed off,” he said when I took a knee next to him.

“He told us he could see us both as the starting quarterback, but he gave the job to Derek.

If we’re equal, wouldn’t it make sense to go with the guy with more experience in the system? It just doesn’t make any sense to me.” I joked that maybe Hunt was picked because he went to Maryville High School.

“You’re probably right Wheatley, you’re probably right. It’s politics man, I swear. Some of the shit that goes on here is purely political sometimes.”

* * * *

Once camp was over, it was time to prepare for Huntingdon College. I, not surprisingly, was elected to the scout team. During a passing drill against our defense, I threw a pass that sailed over the head of the receiver. Coach Ierulli blew the whistle and had some words of advice.

“If you can’t throw with some zip, just get out of there.”

Dejected, I took my place in the end zone with the rest of the players not in the drill. I wasn’t able to redeem myself until a few days later, during the same drill.

“How’s the arm?” Ierulli said with a grin.

“Golden,” I said, rotating my arm to get it loose.

“Okay, jump in here,” he told me as he chose one of Huntingdon’s pass plays from his black scouting binder. I ran in the huddle and looked over his shoulder at the sheet. He pointed to the running back’s route, which was an eight-yard hitch.

58 “Hit this check down route right here.” I told him I could, positive I could throw the ball eight yards down the field.

We lined up in the formation, which was a four-wide set with two receivers on both sides of me. The running back lined up beside me on my left side. I felt ready.

“HUT!” I said, putting the play into motion. I looked over to my left side at the receivers running their routes, and then set up to my left side to hit the running back breaking into a hitch.

Only he started dragging across the formation, opting to turn the five-yard hitch into a drag route.

One of my problems, according to Coach Hansen, was that I think too much when

I’m about to throw, instead of slowing down and focusing on mechanics.

This was a prime example of that problem. Instead of resetting my feet to the right and hitting my running back, I tried to compensate my throwing motion by pitching to him option-style. That definitely wasn’t what Ierulli was expecting.

“Holy smokes,” he said. “I thought you said that arm was golden!” He shook his head and smiled, flipping through his binder to the next play. I jogged back and assumed my position in the end zone, dejected again.

The team ultimately lost the game against Huntingdon to the tune of 41-35. In one game, the Scots’ perfect season was destroyed. After last season’s 4-0 start, expectations were obviously high.

With nine games to play, it was hardly time to go into panic mode, especially considering the Colonels of Centre College, one of the Scots’ oldest rivals, were coming into Maryville looking for a win.

59 * * * *

One week later, I was ready to make my debut on Honaker Field against Centre

College (on the sidelines, of course). The day started off with a hiccup when I went to

Mike, our equipment manager, to pick up my jersey.

“What’s your name bud?” he asked, looking at his copy of the player roster.

“Wheatley,” I said. I’m listed as number eight in the program, but I shared that with freshman quarterback Jake Crawford. Mike went over to a table and picked up a pair of game pants and a garnet jersey.

“Here you go, number 59,” he said, handing over my equipment. ‘Great,’ I thought. I was going to look like an idiot out there warming up with the quarterbacks.

Heaven forbid if we go ahead by 40 points and Coach Ierulli called for me to go in.

‘Now coming in at quarterback, number…59? That has to be some kind of mistake,’ I imagined George DeBaby saying to the listening audience of AM 1470

WBCR. I smiled at the thought, and realized I probably was not going into the game, even if we were up by triple digits.

Needless to say, my teammates got a kick out of my unusual quarterback number.

“Ladies and gentleman, YOUR starting quarterback, number 59, Keeevin

Wheeeeatley!” Swafford bellowed in the locker room. I even took a shot at myself, as I told offensive lineman Dustin Lyles to call for me on the sideline if he needed a breather.

“Yeah, I’ll probably take you up on that,” he said. “You look more like a guard than a quarterback anyway.” We both laughed because it was a pretty fair assessment of my physical appearance.

60 After our pregame meal in the cafeteria, I got into my gear and noticed that even an extra large jersey still fit pretty snug. I walked outside to get an idea of what the day would feel like standing on the sideline. The sun was out and beating down, and wearing a skin-tight, dark-colored jersey was not going to make the heat any easier to bear. On cue, the sweat began to slowly crawl down my brow. I looked down my arms and dots of perspiration were starting to sprout up.

Getting to warm up on the field was an experience that caused my old playing days to replay in my head. Psychologists have said that sometimes memories need a trigger in order to reemerge, and being on that field made me reminisce. The grass was the same as that on Franklin County. There were a few fans peppered in the stands, but the majority of them were still tailgating in the parking lot. The opposing team was stretching and warming up just opposite my team, which was going through the same routine. I got chills and even a little mad at myself for ending my high school career early.

I imagined myself actually going into the game with the stands packed. I doubt I would be able to handle the noise. I would probably get so caught up in the moment that I would forget everything: the formation, the play, how to take a snap, and, most importantly, how to make a throw.

The game itself was like a whirlwind in my memory. Everything just moved fast.

The only things I can remember are being told to back up roughly seven hundred times by Coach Emory (the kicking coach), players getting yelled at, and players getting an I.V. on the sideline.

61 Before I knew it, there was less than ten seconds left in the game and we were lining up for a field goal. The score was tied at 17 apiece. Our kicker (and my roommate)

Brad Daniell was lining up for a 25-yard field goal. I started to think how funny it was that he was playing now as a senior. When he came in, he was dead last on the kicking depth chart behind other freshmen. Then over the summer between his freshman and sophomore year he worked his butt off, working on getting accustomed to kicking on the ground in college rather than off of a block in high school. Now here he is, lined up to kick a game-winning field goal.

He nailed the kick and won the game for us. After a postgame talk from Coach

Ierulli, the team went onto Victory Hill outside of the stadium.

“Where’s that kicker?” a fan asked. That was the last I saw of Daniell until I saw him walking up to our punter Doug Carter and myself on the field. He smelled like a Bud

Light that had been left open for a few days too long.

“What happened to you?” I asked.

“I just got my first beer bath,” he said, laughing.

* * * *

The weeks went by and the Scots’ record stood at 3-3 and 2-1 in USA South conference play. The season hinged on the homecoming matchup against perennial conference powerhouse Christopher Newport University, the preseason favorite to win the conference championship. If we got through that game with a win, then the Scots’ own championship hopes would be alive and well. In the two previous games, Maryville knocked off defending champion North Carolina Wesleyan by the score of 37-24 and lost a heartbreaker to Ferrum College with the final score 10-24. For the seniors on the team,

62 a conference championship was going to be the ultimate capstone on a career filled with losing seasons and lopsided losses. With both Ferrum and Christopher Newport undefeated in conference play and the Scots only dropping one game, losing a second would put the team out of the race entirely.

Practices were intense in preparing for the game that week. Although I had been a regular at the scout team quarterback rotation, Coach Ierulli told me to stay out and let the other quarterbacks prepare his defense.

“We need to get a good look,” he told me when I tried to run into the offensive huddle. “This game is very important. I know that you understand what’s at stake.” His tone was not mean-spirited, but tense. Not only was the conference championship on the line, but since Ierulli was a Maryville alum and played on some of the most successful

Scots football teams in the school’s history, a lot of his former teammates would be there to watch the game. I obliged his request and let the other quarterbacks prepare the defense, not letting the sudden dismissal bring down my spirits.

Going into the game itself, the team watched the final scene from the film

“Miracle,” where the hockey teams of the United States and the Soviet Union duked it out during the 1980 Olympic Games. The message was loud and clear. We were the underdogs coming into the game, and Christopher Newport expected to walk all over us, especially after trouncing Greensboro to the tune of 40-7, a team we squeaked by 17-16 a few weeks prior.

* * * *

Saturday finally came, and the entire team was anxious. Not much needed to be said, as there was a record crowd of 5,127 fans coming out to see the Scots play arguably

63 the best team in the USA South conference on homecoming. All the ingredients were there for a Cinderella story.

At team meetings that morning, Coach Hansen gave a riveting speech to the offensive players.

“All competitors love the Rocky movies,” he said in front of a roomful of young men. “What’s not to love about someone giving their all until they get knocked on their ass, only to get up for more? In Rocky III, I started to like Clubber Lang for a minute.

There Rocky was, sitting high and mighty, beating up chump opponents and padding his record while Clubber was in the fucking dingiest gym working his ass off and getting better. That’s what we’re like. Christopher Newport has all that nice shit they get to play with while we’re here in our little weight room getting better. They practice on turf while we bust our ass on the earth. They’re the ones who are soft, and we’re going to be there to punch them in the fucking mouth. We’re going to be like Clubber Lang and beat their asses.” His speech left me with goose bumps on my arms. I would not even come close to playing and I was amped to kick Christopher Newport’s ass.

Needless to say, Christopher Newport came ready to fight. Their star running back Tunde Ogun, a literal mountain of a man who was listed at a very modest 6’ and

218 pounds, scored two of the Captains’ first three touchdowns…in the first quarter. His first touchdown came in under two minutes, blasting through the Scots defense for a 37- yard touchdown run, practically untouched en route to the end zone. His second touchdown was much like his first, only from 18 yards out. The back (or beast, whichever term you prefer) ended the game with 225 yards rushing and three touchdowns against a defense that only allowed roughly 90 yards on the ground per game.

64 Offensively, we played pretty good from the quarterback position. Hunt was sidelined with a concussion, but Conner played an incredible game, completing 64 percent of his passes for 339 yards, two touchdowns, and one lone interception on the first offensive series.

“The first game I got any real playing time in [against LaGrange College] my head wasn’t into it,” Conner said during a practice before the game. “I mean, I just wanted to go out there and prove that that game wasn’t the best I could do.”

Conner looked good throughout the game, often shifting his way through the pocket and avoiding pressure to find an open receiver downfield. He looked calm and relaxed, like he belonged to be there. Down 28-10 in the third quarter, Conner set up a screen to running back Rommel Hightower, who took the ball 23 yards for a touchdown.

His second scoring pass came with over two minutes left in the fourth quarter, finding

Mike Gilbert all alone in the flats seven yards away from the end zone. The score put the game at 38-24 in favor of Christopher Newport, but Keith Gaines of the Captains pitched the ball on an option to the dirt, and safety Brandon Joynes picked up the ball for a 60- yard touchdown. The Scots were one score away from tying the game and putting it into overtime.

It all rested on the foot of Daniell, who lined up for an onside kick. He had already kicked two perfect onside kicks on his last attempts.

He set the ball upside on the tee and backed up a few steps, aiming for the perfect spot to put the ball in position for a recovery. Everything went quiet on the sidelines. He approached the resting ball. Under two minutes remained on the clock. The ball needed to get into the Scots hands. It had to.

65 Daniell’s foot connected with the ball, making a dull thud. Players in both garnet and white lunged from opposite directions toward the ball. Players from both sides dove for the ball, grasping to bring it in.

The ball skidded out of bounds and just like that the Scots hopes of a conference championship ended in a flash, just out of reach. The energy was sucked out of both the sidelines and the stands as the Captains ran the clock out and took the victory. The team sulked back to the locker room, where little was said among the players.

“That’s it,” announced Rutgerson as he took his spot at our locker, which we shared. “There goes all my motivation for the season. What else is there to play for now?”

Many of the other senior players agreed.

“Unless we have fun these next few weeks, there’s no point to be here,” wide receiver Tyler Sauceman said.

* * * *

At the following Tuesday’s team meeting, Coach Ierulli tried to raise his team’s spirits. “I had two speeches prepared,” Coach Ierulli said in front of the Fighting Scots before practice. “Speech A was a helluva speech,” he said with a grin. “I don’t have to tell you that our chances at a conference championship are very, very slim, but I’ve done a little research,” he said as he pulled on his reading glasses. “I found that if we win out, we will have the highest win total in a two-year span since the 1978-79 seasons.”

Ierulli was in a strangely jovial mood after such a heartbreaking loss to conference foe Christopher Newport. Before his speech, he hung medals around the necks of the Academic All-Conference selections like they were being awarded at the

66 Olympics. After each name, he would offer either a congratulatory few words or feigned surprise at mention of “Academic All-American” and a player’s name.

“Caughron?!” he said with a surprised look on his face. “How much did you pay those teachers to give you good grades?” The mood was lighthearted and fun, a method

Coach Ierulli brought from his coaching bag of tricks. He told me in his office following the meeting that as a coach, he recognizes different times of the season call for different approaches to the “coach-and-player” relationship.

“You know, as a coach I’m sort of a psychologist too,” he said in his office. “I have to know when to stick my foot up someone’s ass and when to bring their spirits up.

After such an emotional loss like this, I knew I couldn’t go into the meeting yelling and screaming. I knew joking around with the team would help ease the pain of losing a shot at the championship.”

Losing two games practically puts the Scots out of contendership for the crown, unless some sort of miracle happens.

“I’m not counting on it,” said Sauceman. “If we deserved to be conference champs, we would have won those games.”

The season, it seemed, was lost to the seniors who had fought their hearts out on the field to put the team in position to win it all. Instead of playing for a ring, they were now going to have to play for sheer pride. After so many practices ended with

“Conference Champs!” or “Race for the Ring!” bellowed out from the team’s huddle, what would the new slogan be?

The general consensus seemed to be having fun for the last three weeks.

67 “Yeah, a championship would have been nice,” junior defensive end Joel Byars said. “Honestly, I just want to go out there and have fun now. A ring definitely would have helped the fun though, that’s for sure.”

For the seniors, a conference championship would have made up for many lopsided losses and disappointments during their freshman and sophomore seasons.

“Think about it, we’ve been getting our asses kicked for a few years now,”

Rutgerson said to me. “How sweet would a conference championship have been, especially on our senior year? We’ve been talking about it for so long now. Where do we go from here? This was supposed to be our year. Sure, I’ll still play hard, but only to beat the shit out of the other teams we play.”

“I kind of knew in the back of my mind that we wouldn’t get the championship, but after all that talk all preseason and throughout the season about how we were poised to win it all, I started to believe,” senior receiver Gary Hughes said. “So I’m a little disappointed for sure. I don’t know…we’ll see how it all plays out with the other teams, but I’m pretty sure we won’t win the conference.”

While the team’s goal of a conference championship was lost, the Scots looked to conclude their season on pride alone. They can win more games in two seasons than any

Maryville team in 30 years, and in order to do that they had to go out and beat the shit out of their three remaining opponents, as Rutgerson poetically put it.

* * * *

The time finally came for me to show what I could do against actual competition.

Mark the date Nov. 3, 2008 in your calendar because it was the day that Kevin Wheatley

68 got four snaps in Maryville College’s junior varsity game against the University of the

Cumberlands.

I sat and waited on the sideline, patiently watching each other quarterback get a turn to command the offense for one quarter each. The fourth quarter was going to be mine, and I was feeling the butterflies start to flutter in my stomach as the clock crept closer and closer to the fourth.

“You nervous?” Gabe Evans asked me. I lied and said I wasn’t. The butterflies had turned into lead balls bouncing around my intestines.

Hansen walked up to me and asked me what passes I felt comfortable throwing.

My brain could barely function. ‘Passes? What pass plays are there in the playbook?’ I thought to myself. I blurted out the only three pass plays I had tried.

“Alright then, we’ll give you a few hitches and maybe you can complete one,” he said. “Just relax and you’ll be fine.”

I couldn’t relax when I saw the spot on the field where I had to start the possession. The ball rested just outside of our end zone on the two-yard line. ‘Great,’ I thought to myself. ‘So if I want to score a touchdown, I’ll have to drive 98 yards.”

As I trotted out onto the field, I heard our sidelines erupt with cheers. I didn’t know if it was like a scene out of Rudy or reminiscent of the Roman gladiator days when a poor, unlucky soul was unleashed on a bloodthirsty lion.

Our first play was the pass play I selected out of the shotgun. I lined up and I was a yard deep in our end zone. I started going through my cadence when I noticed all of

Cumberland’s linebackers were creeping up. I should have checked out of the play and

69 gone for something simpler like a quarterback sneak, but for some reason I stuck with the play. After all, maybe they were bluffing an all-out blitz.

They weren’t.

As soon as I received the snap, I looked up and saw that a wave of bloodthirsty lions in white was coming for me, completely untouched. My first thought was to get out of the end zone, but I couldn’t quite make it out before the wave hit me. As I was going down, I thought, ‘Hey, I could try to throw the ball anyway and just get an incomplete pass.’ Needless to say, that plan didn’t work either as the ball only went about two feet to my right.

I looked up at the ref, who was already signaling for the safety. My first play as a college quarterback resulted in two points for the other team. How many players can say that, I wonder?

“Don’t worry about it, shake it off,” Hansen said to me. “You’re still in. You got the next series when we get the ball back.”

After a defensive stand, we had the ball in much better position at around midfield. My first two plays were run plays to Paul Costanzo, who took the ball up field for the first down. The next play was for another pass, this time under center.

I began my cadence and noticed the outside linebackers had walked up to the line.

As I took the snap and began my drop, I was looking eye-to-eye with the linebacker on the right side as he rushed toward me, coming off the line with speed and a hungry look in his eye. ‘Damn,’ I thought. ‘This is not good.’

I got to the end of my three-step drop and planted my right foot. As soon as my foot hit the ground though, I felt the clean hit throb though my right shoulder. Then I felt

70 a helmet or shoulder collide with my spine. I was on the wrong end of a sandwich, and I was dropped quickly and painfully.

My bell had been rung. It was second down, or was it third? The little black dots that danced in front of my eyes didn’t tell me. I couldn’t remember, but I was relieved when I saw one of our other quarterbacks going into the game.

“Eh, that’s the way the game goes sometimes,” Hansen said to me after the game.

“At least you didn’t fumble the ball.”

“Hey, you put two points on the board,” Chait said. “It was for the wrong team, but at least it was something.”

* * * *

My experience on the team is nearly up and I am left to reflect on how this experience has changed my skills as a writer. Not only do I have a deeper understanding and appreciation of the sport, but I have also gained valuable information in terms of story construction and how to obtain that material.

I now recognize how players perceive the media. Players recognize a good journalist and respect proper insight and questions that are geared toward an interesting story. I know what questions to avoid now, such as how much of the playbook a player knows (which is seen as an insult to a player’s intelligence) or what a team’s game plan is on defense (the obvious answer is to shut down the opposing offense’s best facets of the game and keep them from scoring). Being an insider has given me a new outlook on how to question players and get their perspective on their performance.

I have also learned how to interact with players. These guys work hard in school and on the football field, and are generally more socially advanced than most people give

71 them credit for. As a journalist, I am not a better person than they are, and I should not have a superiority complex when interviewing them, unlike a few of my reporting peers.

I have also learned several nuances of the game between the lines that I did not see before. I know the difference between a zone-run play where the quarterback must read the defensive end before deciding whether or not to hand the ball to the back or keep it himself. I also know how to recognize what another player sees on the field and why he made a particular decision. Double coverage is a lot harder to recognize on the field than it is in the stands.

The biggest change in my abilities as a sports reporter, however, is recognizing that each and every game is significant. Whether the game is for a conference championship or to keep one of the teams from going winless in a season, each game carries an importance to it that can be brought to the audience’s attention.

All of these, when combined, give me the tools to create a compelling story no matter what games I may cover in my life, whether it be in high school or professional sports. The respect I now have for these players will be reciprocated through the interview and my questions will lead to compelling information, which will then lead to a vastly superior story. I have already begun putting these into practice throughout the 2008 high school football season for the Knoxville News-Sentinel and I know my writing has improved drastically.

I have Coach Ierulli and the rest of the Fighting Scots team and coaching staff to thank for my growth as a writer, for it not given this opportunity I would not have been able to improve. I honestly cannot put everything I have learned from this experience onto ink and paper.

72