Dad and me at Florida Gator football game 2011

In the summer of ’64 I signed up for little league football.  I’m not really sure what made me sign up, I really didn’t care for such sports.  I was a gangly, awkward kid, not good at ball sports, I was more of a nerd before the term became popular, I was into anything science and engineering. About the only thing sport wise I was reasonably good at was running and riding my bike, which at the time I didn’t really consider sports at all.  Bike riding was essential for me, riding my bike to school and to my friends’ houses that lived in the neighborhood, bike riding was my primary means of transportation, not a sport.  On the other hand, my brother David, although almost two years younger, was good a sports, quick, fast, good at throwing balls, much better than I at any of such things.  I think unconsciously I felt Dad liked David better than I because he was good at sports.  For whatever reason, perhaps to make an impression on Dad, I signed up for Little League Football that summer. 

The team met at Westside Park across from Littlewood Elementary school where I went to school. I rode my bike down to the first team meeting to “try out” which was pretty much just signing up for I don’t think they turned away any of the boys. There were two young men as coaches, one was the main coach, the other the assistant. Both the coaches had sons on the team. We had practice three or four times before the first game which I didn’t have much enthusiasm for, all that running, and jumping around, I rather not work as hard but analyze and observe. Only a few got to even touch a football, most, including me, just got to line up and block. It was exciting to finally “make the team” and get a complete set of football gear, helmet, shoulder pads, padded pants and a jersey with the team’s name on it, “Mike’s Meat”, a local meat and butcher shop whose slogan was “Mike’s Meat can’t be beat.” All the gear came in a big white duffle bag, too big to carry on my bike so Dad took and picked me up from practice that day. I was a scrawny, not very big boy and I have to say putting on all that gear made me feel big and powerful although I found it cumbersome. Then there was practice, with all that gear came hitting, bumping and of course tackling. I did it, I wasn’t one to give up, but I didn’t have much enthusiasm for it and of course the boys that did were the ones that got selected to play, the rest of us sat on the bench.

At the second practice the coach brought black boy to practice. I had never seen a black boy up close before, he was muscular and larger than any of the other boys on the team. Where did the coaches find a black boy? I wondered, the area around Littlewood was an all-white neighborhood, segregation was in full force, there were no black families anywhere in the area or black kids in school, they all lived on the “other side” of town.  I didn’t matter to me that he was black, nor did it seem to matter to any of the other boys, he seemed like a nice enough kid. I later wondered how he felt being the only black boy amongst all white boys. But he was good, really good, by the first game the coach made him quarterback.

The day of first game came which were played at Citizens Field on the east side of town by the Boys Club, I was excited and was not surprised at all when I didn’t get to play, we won.  Second, third, fourth games we won, I didn’t play, oh, well, I was still on the team although they only position I played was bench warmer.  The fifth game was exciting, we were down by a goal, fourth and eight, a few minutes left in the game, the coach calls time out and calls the players to the sideline and the coach talks to the quarterback and the team goes back on the field.  The quarterback counts, the ball is hiked, the quarterback steps back looking for a receiver down field, he pulls back his arm to throw the ball, and the black boy, sweeps behind the quarter back and grabs the football out of his lifted arm and runs for a touchdown. The team, the parents in the stands all roared.  The classic “Statue of Liberty” play I learned later it was called.  The winning put us into the final playoff game for the title the following week.

A few days before the final game we were told our star quarterback, the black boy, wouldn’t be able to play, it seems that he was a year too old, and we would have to play without him at the final game.  Final game night came, our alternate quarterback, the coaches son, was put in, and the position he played filled by another and so on down the line, it was like a whole different team was playing.  We did manage to score, but by fourth quarter were down by two touchdowns, the other team had the ball, five minutes left in the game, and the coach looks at me and says, “Larry, go in for Jim.” I put my helmet on for the first time at a game and go in at the left defensive end position.  The ball is snapped, their quarter back steps back, one of their players tries to block me and I easily push him aside and run straight for the quarter back sacking him, they lose three yards.  I felt exhilarated, energized, the next play the ball was hiked, I did the same thing sacking the quarterback a second time, another two yards lost.  I could imagine Dad in the stands telling someone next to him, “That’s my boy, that’s my boy”.  The next play they put two guys to block me, and they run for a touchdown.  , but I had my two plays of fame. 

They kicked off and with only a few seconds left on the clock the game was over, we lost, but I was happy, I got to play. Walking back to the car after the game Dad says, “You did good.”, Dad seldom said much, such simple words but it meant a lot to me. After the game the team met at a local pizza place where the coach treated us all to pizza and made a short speech about the team and players and in naming a few players achievements, saying, “and Larry, I think you made the most improvement, I should have played you sooner.” Even though our team was disqualified, we all felt like winners. The ride home from the game was usually a quiet time with neither Dad nor I saying anything but then Dad said, “I’m proud of you son.” I was happy.

Updated: 01-20-2026

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