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Sorry I could not reach you all, there just was not or is not
enough time. Growing up is never as pleasant as we would make our
selves believe, the experience of High school in particular. For many
there are only a few moments of imagined glory in the entirety of
their lives and for it to be totally wasted in high school may seem
sad, but few in this country belong to a much different society. Few
have an opportunity for greater dreams and they are most certainly
not provided in high school. If you are lucky, you find something to
build on. The truly fortunate are inspired by their parents, others
that most rare of motivators, a teacher, even a friend, the rest must
seek solace in mechanics, sports, music, even art and literature but
generally with out help.
There are those of us at Tam that were marked by an
un-crowned season, our own small chance at hubris, that ended on a
hot and muddy field in Kentfield Ca. on a day we should have been
eating turkey instead of sod and ashes, a day that became a marker of
departure. We were told by our coaches Davlin and Belden that we
would never forget that day and I for one never have. The lessons to
be learned on a slippery field of defeat are most bitter and not very
pleasant. Repeated vision and imagination only make it worse, that 40
years after the fact I could weep on the shoulder of Warren Domino
should come as no surprise nor that he could embrace and accept me
like a friend he had not seen in 40 years. Perhaps that is what will
help wipe the bitterness away. Just the fact that Warren remembered
me and sought me out
I did not realize that others held such memories. Memories that I
had been selectively trying to forget, not just those of us that
participated on the field but it appears even the fans remember. Most
of my teammates seemed to put it away but Warren opened the door
again. We can never win that game we cannot make any excuse for its
loss. We cannot make the legs of Bill Rice, Bill Gillingham, Greg
Taylor whole again or fix Hewett's ankle, or mend our broken hearts
and there are always plenty of excuses. To make them would lessen
those who participated, those who stood and watched, and those who
left the field victorious.
I know we brought everything we had to that day all the emotion,
desire, need all the physical strength we could muster and we took
none of it from that field. We left it the in memory. We gave as well
as we got. I know that those who were there that day with Warren and
the rest of us gave all we had and were the better for it. Today I
can still look the victors in the eye, and see the blood upon their
faces, theirs or mine it doesn’t matter, I can tell them yes you
were victorious but I am not defeated.
All of this is of no importance for the world or the universe or
even history. No great event unhinged a nation that day no poem has
yet immortalized it. This was no battle of warriors no matter how
desperate we may have felt at that specific hour. Young men,
testosterone, and a physical game of organized aggression with rules
and spectators, truly it must be at least great theater. A finite
game proscribed with a definite winner and looser (especially one as
noble as we are), and most of all an audience, surely there must be
some great bard willing to immortalize us all.
There are those who realize that high school and puberty were not
the best of times. For whatever reasons there are those who did not
come, could not come, and those who would not come to this reunion.
Perhaps we party too much. There are those I would dearly like to
hear of or from again Jack Martin, Tracy Oldham, Steve Long, Skip
Avasian, Carole McDaniel, Jim Durban and many, many more.
Tom O’Neil lives in Santa Rosa at 145 Neotomas and is not
well. He has been incapacitated by diabetes but I am sure he would
like to hear from those who care (707) 528-6674. For those of you who
felt close to Gordon Carrier and wish to know how he died come and
see me and look into my eyes and I will tell you the how of it.
As for myself, what I have done is not very interesting and
extremely unimportant. I have been and am happy in the company of my
family and the few friends that have made my life of value. I would
enjoy seeing you all again under circumstances that are not as
constricted by time and space to share your thoughts and the life
that is left to us. I am in the phone book at 1 Geraldine Ct. in Napa
Ca. on the Internet Williemc1@prodigy.net
if you wish to contact me.
These 40 years have swiftly passed and many have not arrived with
us. I am not what I was, I am only what I am becoming the choice is
all mine as it is for the rest of you. What we were, is of no
importance what interests me is what we are becoming.
Bill McIntyre |
