That gave me instant popularity and, with that, newly discovered confidence.
I broke out from behind the silence and began establishing meaningful friendships.
I had grown so much as a person in Connecticut, and I wasn’t ready to surrender it.
I returned to Massachusetts a changed person, and most of my old friends had changed too.
I continued eating healthy and working out in an effort to be the best athlete I could be.
We beat Walpole, a heavy favorite, handedly.
It was like a last hurrah for me with my childhood friends.
When they announced the game MVPs, one from each team, I wasn’t really paying attention.
When I returned from my two-year hiatus in Connecticut, I had forgotten all about it.
Winning a team championship had always meant more to me than any individual award possibly could.
He was really fast, and I was working on it.
I’m pretty sure he was unaware that I had nothing but respect and admiration for him.
The idea of working out together in the offseason was done to make us a better team.
He agreed, and we set a date for when we’d start training.
I was excited on the ride over to his house that afternoon.
I had seen him shake off would-be tacklers and run for long touchdowns for many years.
It was incredible to run withhim.
He was as fast as he was powerful.
His thighs were thickly muscled, and it appeared as though there were rocks stuffed into his calves.
I finished several steps behind him during each sprint, but that was okay with me.
I knew he could help me improve my speed and motivate me to become a more complete football player.
I was easy and agreed to cut the workout short and watch some old film…
He was pointing out defensive plays I didn’t make and calling out tackles I missed…
I might’ve been a little naive, but I completely understood what he was doing.
He didn’t answer.
Our quarterback was moved to tight end, and I was moved from middle linebacker to defensive tackle.
The defenses keyed onhim, and his impact was greatly minimized.
I was moved back to starting fullback for this game, and we ran theWishboneoffense out of the T-formation.
They couldn’t key onhim; if they did, there were other options.
I didn’t like not practicing with the defense, but I had little choice in the matter.
The starting defense easily ran over the JV offensive line on the first play, and I was gang-tackled.
The next play, I was gang-tackled, again.
That’s when it began…
He was lined up at cornerback when he started chanting,“Kill Vinnie!
“The entire defense followed suit, and the chanting got progressively louder.
This was his last chance atrevenge…
I expected the coach to step in and put an end to it, but he didn’t.
I knew the JV O-line couldn’t slow down the starting defense, never mind block ‘em.
As we walked up to the line of scrimmage, the chanting got louder and more spirited.
“The middle linebacker was still on the ground, dazed.
That’s when the coach immediately stepped in and called the practice…
I went to the locker room, got my belongings, and drove home in my muddy uniform…
The Thanksgiving game was going well.
We were successful running out of the Wishbone.
I was moved back to middle linebacker, my natural position, to start the second half.
I had at least a dozen unassisted tackles in the second half, including several sacks.
My classmates and I joined the unfortunate fraternity of teams that lost their Thanksgiving game their senior year.
That night there was a drinking party for the football team that I didn’t attend.
I cranked the eight-track, but all I heard was,“Kill Vinnie!
He had taken away my starting positions, allowed the chanting"Kill Vinnie!
“, and put me in harm’s way with his late whistles during the last full-contact practice…
I saw his house and the small patch of front lawn he often bragged about.
It was wet and soft.
I was young and dumb and couldn’t resist…
I drove up on the lawn and idled there for a moment, reflecting.
I revved my V8 motor to see if any lights went on inside his house.
Then I revved it again and let the clutch fly.
I tore up his entire front yard, mud and grass flew everywhere.
In the end, after graduation (1974), I put things in perspective.
I’ll always look at my former friends and teammates who chanted,“Kill Vinnie!
“differently, even after fifty years…
