By Steve Salerno
My college football coach was the kind of guy Stanley Kubrik must have had in mind when he conceived the over-the-top drill sergeant for his classic Vietnam film, Full Metal Jacket. During one game midway in my sophomore year, my offensive-line cohorts and I were having trouble opening holes for our ball carriers. Coach pulled us aside at half-time and lined us up against a wall. He then walked the line and — from a distance of maybe two inches — screamed into each of our faces in turn, “I want you to tell me now, are you ever gonna miss another block!?” There was a pungent Anglo-Saxon gerund between another and block, but good taste compels me to omit it.
The only acceptable answer was “No sir!”, which we too were expected to scream at ear-splitting volume. This would assure Coach of our mettle, dedication, and worthiness to have him browbeat us for the rest of the season. But to me, Coach’s question sounded unreasonable. I still had two-and-a-half seasons of football ahead of me. What assurances could I give? And so, when my turn came, I drew a breath and said, “Look, Coach, I certainly don’t want to miss another block! But probably yes, I think I will miss a few. Now and then.”
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