David Heillerís column

Ugly weather brings out our best

When I was leaving the office Friday, I told Jane I wasnít looking forward to that night. She asked why.

ìFootball game,î I said with a shiver. The weather outside was downright ugly: cold, hard rain, and a strong wind.

ìWonít they call it off?î Jane asked.

That stopped me for a second. Then I had to smile. Call off a football game because of rain and cold and mud and misery?

ìThey donít call off football games because of rain,î I said.

It was an honest question by Jane. Common sense would dictate calling off a couple games every year, and last Fridayís was one of them.

But as they say, thatís the beauty of it.

Merle Hanson reminded me of that a few hours later. I was standing on the sidelines, taking pictures at the game and trying not to think about how cold I was. Merle, a volunteer assistant coach, turned to me and said with a wistful look, ìFelix would have loved this.î

I just nodded and returned his smile. He was referring to Felix Percuoco, who coached during mine and Merleís era at good old Caledonia High School.

Mr. Percuoco, like all good coaches, liked playing in the rain and mud. You could just see it in his eyes, in the way he set his jaw. Itís almost an instinctual thing with coaches, the joy of playing football in bad weather.

It rubs off on players too. I canít remember a lot of my old football games, but I do remember playing Rushford when I was a senior in 1970, how cold and wet and miserable it was. We lost that game, as I recall, but it stands out because it was brutal and strangely fun.

Iím not alone in that sadism. I mentioned the game to Tony Albert earlier this year. Tony was the halfback that year, and a darned good one. He not only remembered the game, he gave me a play-by-play account of it, 34 years later.

So it was no surprise seeing Caledonia head coach Carl Fruechte pace the sideline Friday, oblivious to the raw wind, with a look in his eye and a set to his jaw that was strangely familiar.

Or seeing Brent Schroeder, the Caledonia defensive coordinator, look skyward after one of his players sacked the quarterback and yell, ìGod, I love this game!î

Or watching Justin Conway pound through puddles on the field so hard it looked like he was waterskiing.

Heíll remember this game 34 years from now.

Even I felt it. Iím 51 years old. My glory days are long gone. But darned if I didnít feel the adrenaline return as I worked in that brutal wind and rain last Friday.

So I guess I lied to Jane, unwittingly. I was looking forward to the football game in a perverse sort of way. A football kind of way. I bet even the fans had similar feelings.

Adversity brings out our best. We learn that throughout our lives. And the lesson is never more clear than on a high school football field on a cold and rainy Friday night.

Right, Felix?

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