…Georgia’s running backs have shed the green non-contact jerseys they had been wearing for several weeks even when not injured. “Mostly because we’re not doing an awful lot of offense vs. defense anymore,” Richt said. “We’re doing scout work mostly. The scout teamers aren’t striking those guys.”
Translation: Tackle Gurley in practice? Are you crazy?
Get The Picture 
It’s amazing how football has changed just in the last couple decades. We tackled every day but Thursday. Well….more smart than amazing.
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we weren’t allowed to have but one or two water breaks when I played in high school. It’s a miracle no one died.
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I thought I had died a couple of times.
There was always that mad dash from the practice field to the water fountain after practice.
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True dat Irish, I was in Savannah in August, full pads, two-a days, and one water break in the morning practice and one in the afternoon session. We toted many players off each day due to salt sickness/dehydration, this despite me gobbling dozens of salt tablets each day. I made it through many practices fantasizing about diving into a full pool if iced cold Sprite or 7 Up (it seemed more appealing than the color of Coca Cola.) Tough days for any human, used to pray a Tropical Storm would skim the coast so we could get several days relief from the heat as it approached, and passed. That only happened once but I am still thankful. The changes in what coaches are required to do today is startling, amazed we didn’t have more lives lost but surprisingly, the numbers seem to remain about the same every summer today as back then (although news communication wasn’t what it is today.)
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(crap) indeed.
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There was always the dreaded words from the coach, “form two lines facing each other”. Bad times followed for those of us on the smaller side.
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They probably had a fight to see who would line up opposite, eh?
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I didn’t play, but sure do remember talking to a few UGA players about “the cage” way back when. There was genuine fear in their voices when speaking of it.
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Summer Camp started the first Monday in August.
We got no water during practice. We drank out of a spigot sticking out of the gym at the end of the day. We ate lunch in the school lunchroom and then rested for an hour…then “back on your heads”….put the ringing wet (from sweat) pads pants and jerseys back on and go at it untill wind-sprints and supper time. The last drill of the day was punt blocking. Anyone who could block a punt got to skip wind-sprints. Then to the field house for jock itch inspection…everybody got it at least once. The treatment was to have Desinex cream smeared onto the rash with a wooden paddle. (It stated clearly on the jar “not for use on hairy areas of the body)…It burned like hell. The burn would go on for a couple of hours and washing or rinsing only made it worse. We tried to hide it when we had jock itch, but one of our buddies would always enjoy telling the trainer…None of us had any fat or weight. If you ever sniffled or sneezed you were given a medium sized raw onion to eat. Our coach was convinced that would keep you well through game night. We loved him and hated him all at the same time. It sure kept you from scoring with the occasional willing girl. During practice, at about three in the afternoon during “Oklahoma” drills, he would take a big navel orange out of his pocket and peel and eat it in front of us. We were dying of hunger and thirst. Cruel.
We would play both ways and hate it when the game ended…we loved playing football.
GHS Summer camp made the military training easier to bear.Nothing in life was ever as physically demanding as August on the grid iron under the Georgia sun.
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Mac and Uglydawg….love those stories. Somehow I just knew you two were players. Summer practice for us Cheerleaders was rough as well. My senior year one of the assistant coaches wormed his way into being our gymnastics instructor. He worked us into tears daily. He was such a pervert.
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+1 We weren’t allowed to approach the CLs. We were told that they were “The Debil”… :0
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http://www.edgefielddaily.com/sports092211.html
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As long as everybody is telling stories, mine can only be told when it’s dark. Like at midnight. Going out on that practice field was like traveling back to the beginnings of the world when vegetation rioted on the earth and the single wing was king. An empty stream of consciousness, a great silence, an impenetrable line. The air was warm, thick, heavy, sluggish. Just like our cheerleaders. There was no joy in the brilliance of sunshine. Our coach was a sadist. We feared him. Some even thought about reporting him but it was then that we decided we had no idea who we would report him to. So we sucked it up, taped an aspirin to it, licked the salt block and wondered why the opportunity was not nowhere.
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Laughing out loud, DIF. That’s funny.
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Thank you! I do some of my best work around midnight but shortly after that I fall asleep and dream about the cheerleaders.
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You guys are too much! Remember that soft porn movie,”The Cheerleaders”? Well……. Never mind ☺️
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I don’t know what’s happening to this younger generation of cheerleaders these days
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