Read Online Friday Night Lights: A Town, a Team, and a Dream by H. G. Bissinger - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: H. G. Bissinger
Tags: United States, General, Social Science, History, Education, State & Local, Texas, Sports & Recreation, Customs & Traditions, Football, Social Aspects, Sociology of Sports, Physical Education, Permian High School (Odessa; Tex.) - Football, Odessa, Football - Social Aspects - Texas - Odessa, Sports Stories, Southwest (AZ; NM; OK; TX), Football Stories
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just taken a hit in the stomach, and then
took his defender down with a crushing block. The performance of Crow was also inspiring. Late in the fourth quarter
he scored his fourth touchdown of the game to make it 35-33,
and then he scored the two-point conversion to tie it up even
though everyone in the stadium knew he was going to get the
ball. The game ultimately ended in a 35-35 tie, and Permian
advanced to the semifinals of the playoffs based on a tiebreaker
rule that provided that the team with more first downs advance
to the next round.
Everyone seemed mesmerized as they watched Crow on
a small screen in the front of the cafeteria, the memories of
it, the absolute magic of it, suddenly flooding back. The oil
economy could go to hell. The country could go to hell. But,
thanks to Shawn Crow, never, ever Permian football.
It would be hard anywhere in sports to find athletic feats
more courageous than his. On play after play, each like a dizzying rerun, he had headed down the sidelines, running so low
to the ground that it sometimes seemed as if his helmet skidded the turf, retaining remarkable balance, sending would-be tacklers flying and dragging others for four or five yards before
finally going down. It was the kind of performance that only
occurred in high school, for no adult would have had the willingness to sacrifice his body as Shawn Crow had done that
night, for his family and his team and his town. It was also a
moment, a time in his life, that seemed impossible to repeat.
"If that won't get you excited, I can't believe you can get excited," said booster club president Doug Hendrick.
When the highlight film showed Crow scoring the two-point
conversion, the crowd rose to its feet and gave the former hero
a standing ovation. He was in the audience and gave no reaction, as if he was slightly embarrassed and wished he were
someplace else.
He was supposed to have been at Texas Christian University
in Fort Worth, the only Division I school that had actively recruited him after a senior season in which he gained 2,288
yards and made first team All-State. But during the high school
all-star football game in July at the Astrodome between players
from the north regions of Texas and ones from the south, he
had felt an intense pain in his back.
No one thought it was serious, particularly since he had a
reputation for whimpering, and one coach at Permian who
knew Crow well said that the best way to "shut him up" was just
to give him the ball. "I can't run, man," he told Tim O'Connell,
the Permian trainer who was nicknamed "Trapper" and was the
trainer [for the north] during the all-star game. Crow's voice,
high-pitched and laced with pain, made him sound almost
scared.
"Why don't you just try," said Trapper, who examined him
and could find no discernible injury.
Crow continued to play in the game, biting down on his
mouthpiece as hard as he could on each play to fight through
the pain. After the game it turned out that Crow had not been
whimpering. He was diagnosed with a herniated disc, and the
TCU coaches told him not to come to school until January, af ter he had had a chance to rehabilitate. There was no point in
coming to school just to go to class.
Injuries were nothing new to Crow. In seventh grade he had
broken his leg in practice. In eighth grade he had torn ligaments in his thumb. In ninth grade his arm, already injured
from an incident involving an all-terrain vehicle, had been shattered when he tried to throw a block. Off the field he was an
endearing, friendly kid, quiet and shy and respectful. On the
field, his toughness was almost incomprehensible; his head, as
one teammate put it, seemed to be "made of steel." But it was
hard not to wonder if his body could endure the physical punishment of the game.
The standing ovation that he received at the Watermelon
Feed wasn't particularly surprising. Just as he was used to football injuries, he was also used to
took his defender down with a crushing block. The performance of Crow was also inspiring. Late in the fourth quarter
he scored his fourth touchdown of the game to make it 35-33,
and then he scored the two-point conversion to tie it up even
though everyone in the stadium knew he was going to get the
ball. The game ultimately ended in a 35-35 tie, and Permian
advanced to the semifinals of the playoffs based on a tiebreaker
rule that provided that the team with more first downs advance
to the next round.
Everyone seemed mesmerized as they watched Crow on
a small screen in the front of the cafeteria, the memories of
it, the absolute magic of it, suddenly flooding back. The oil
economy could go to hell. The country could go to hell. But,
thanks to Shawn Crow, never, ever Permian football.
It would be hard anywhere in sports to find athletic feats
more courageous than his. On play after play, each like a dizzying rerun, he had headed down the sidelines, running so low
to the ground that it sometimes seemed as if his helmet skidded the turf, retaining remarkable balance, sending would-be tacklers flying and dragging others for four or five yards before
finally going down. It was the kind of performance that only
occurred in high school, for no adult would have had the willingness to sacrifice his body as Shawn Crow had done that
night, for his family and his team and his town. It was also a
moment, a time in his life, that seemed impossible to repeat.
"If that won't get you excited, I can't believe you can get excited," said booster club president Doug Hendrick.
When the highlight film showed Crow scoring the two-point
conversion, the crowd rose to its feet and gave the former hero
a standing ovation. He was in the audience and gave no reaction, as if he was slightly embarrassed and wished he were
someplace else.
He was supposed to have been at Texas Christian University
in Fort Worth, the only Division I school that had actively recruited him after a senior season in which he gained 2,288
yards and made first team All-State. But during the high school
all-star football game in July at the Astrodome between players
from the north regions of Texas and ones from the south, he
had felt an intense pain in his back.
No one thought it was serious, particularly since he had a
reputation for whimpering, and one coach at Permian who
knew Crow well said that the best way to "shut him up" was just
to give him the ball. "I can't run, man," he told Tim O'Connell,
the Permian trainer who was nicknamed "Trapper" and was the
trainer [for the north] during the all-star game. Crow's voice,
high-pitched and laced with pain, made him sound almost
scared.
"Why don't you just try," said Trapper, who examined him
and could find no discernible injury.
Crow continued to play in the game, biting down on his
mouthpiece as hard as he could on each play to fight through
the pain. After the game it turned out that Crow had not been
whimpering. He was diagnosed with a herniated disc, and the
TCU coaches told him not to come to school until January, af ter he had had a chance to rehabilitate. There was no point in
coming to school just to go to class.
Injuries were nothing new to Crow. In seventh grade he had
broken his leg in practice. In eighth grade he had torn ligaments in his thumb. In ninth grade his arm, already injured
from an incident involving an all-terrain vehicle, had been shattered when he tried to throw a block. Off the field he was an
endearing, friendly kid, quiet and shy and respectful. On the
field, his toughness was almost incomprehensible; his head, as
one teammate put it, seemed to be "made of steel." But it was
hard not to wonder if his body could endure the physical punishment of the game.
The standing ovation that he received at the Watermelon
Feed wasn't particularly surprising. Just as he was used to football injuries, he was also used to
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