Saturday Pooch Punt: Ramblings from Friday night football
Let’s be honest with each other here. Waynesboro needed that win Friday night.
Needed it like peanut butter needs jelly. Needed it like Terrell Thompson needs an open field with a blocker in front of him.
Needed that win like, oh, I don’t know, like someone needs to buy a Fresca for Rachel Binda, Haley Quesenbery and Norah Curtis.
The Little Giants needed to find out what a Southern Valley win feels like. They needed to show their fans that, yes, see what we can do.
Folks, they just needed it.
So, what does Terrell Thompson do? Simple, he runs for three scores, throws another one into the end zone and adds a two-point conversion into the mix. Ladies and gentlemen, there’s your real Southern Valley District baseball player of the year turning the gridiron into his own personal diamond.
Hey look, Waynesboro plays good defense. The Giants hold the Indians to 16 points, snag two picks and scoop up two fumbles. Steven Brown, who doesn’t score, runs for over 180 yards. And, well, you already know what Thompson did.
Do. The. Math. Little. Giants. And I don’t just mean the players; I mean the coaching staff as well. Spread the love and watch the wins bloom. Lock the thread, folks.
Lock. The. Thread.
Then, in case all of that wasn’t enough, Thompson gets named homecoming king at halftime.
Crown ‘em.
And another thing: I have no freakin’ idea what they mean when they write, “Michael Johnson was a man Friday night.“ No. Clue.
Maybe they mean he “was the man Friday night” during Buffalo Gap’s 35-9 rumble over Wilson Memorial. But to that I say, um, Johnson has been the man. Totally, man. The man, man. Ya’ dig, man. Yes. Of course you do.
Because the man (or “a man,“ whichever) did this against Colonial Beach last year, all the while playing in the shadow of then-junior Pickle Nuckols and the rock-band-front-man-turned-quarterback Travis Morris.
Now, with Morris playing baseball at Concord and Nuckols, well, still being a man (or the man, whichever), Johnson is having his time to shine.
Let’s look at it this way, heading into the season the one thing everybody knew this Bison team would be missing were the soft hands of Josh Wenger. Heck, you could throw a washing machine at that kid and he’d corral it for a first down on a third-and-8 play. (Of course, it helped that they had Mr. Axl Rose-slash-quarterback Travis Morris tossing it his way.) And, let’s continue to be honest with each other here, whenever the Bison play a game that will test them (ding, ding, ding, that game comes All Hallows Eve, at home, against a Hey-Don’t-Forget-About-Us Riverheads squad) they may end up missing Wenger again.
But, right now, Johnson has filled in very nicely. At least, so says Mr. Nuckols. You know, that kid who would rather tell you how great everyone else is even though, cough, cough, he’s the greatest one out there in a Bison uniform.
[SIDE NOTE ALERT: Seriously Nuckols—or can we call you Pickle? OK? Good.— seriously Pickle, to steal a line from Barack Obama (Blogger note: we could care less about politics and career politicians because they’re all crooks), your greatest strength is how humble you are. Your greatest weakness is how awesome you are.]
(OK, back to your regularly scheduled blog ramblings.)
Where were we? OK, we got it. Anyway. So Johnson, who ran wide out along side Wenger during the halcyon days of 2007 (see “Championship Year”), agrees. He’s not doing so bad at wide out.
Evidence, you demand (and deserve, for that matter). OK, where shall we start? First there was this run against James River (just watch at the 2:06 mark of this highlight and come back. Waiting. Waiting. Waiting. Back? OK, good.) then, on Friday, he acts all like the man by running in a score, returning an interception for a score, then folds himself into a stoop, gets behind the Wilson Memorial defense, looks in a Ryan Sheridan pass and high tails it 79 yards for the touchdown.
Oh, he does it on defense too. Just ask Wilson Memorial’s Christian Miller when his head clears after the hit Johnson put on him after a catch. Laid. Him. Out. Folks.
But Miller held onto the ball for the catch. Good on him. Tough kid. Plays with heart. Just like the rest of the Green Hornets.
It’s true. Sure, look at their record (2-5, 0-2 Shenandoah) and hem and haw all you want Fishersville. But records, as Draft coach Rod Bowers would say, are for us media types and the fans to get their thermals all in a bunch over.
Want to judge these Green Hornets? Then judge them on their hearts. Judge them on the fact that Derek McDaniel has a 147-pounder and a 152-pounder at guard. At guard, folks!
“My kids are playing hard, I’m not going to complain about my kids ever because they’re playing hard,“ McDaniel said.
They sure are. Look at the hit Miller took. Or Ben Hopewell, (Das Boot as I like to call him) getting run over by Pickle (or Mr. Nuckols, whichever) on the 2-yard line. Shoot, I’d sooner step in between my wife and a chocolate bar at 2:30 a.m. then try to step in front of a lumbering Nuckols with the end zone a sniff away.
That’s called heart, folks. Look it up. (And you may see a picture of this whole Wilson team.)
But there are some things they have to figure out before the 2009 season when they enter the debacle known as the Southern Valley DoesStink and start playing Group AA schools.
Mainly, how to finish. First-and-goal from the Bison 1 and Miller takes the ball. Hello, meet a swarming Bison defense.
Second and goal from the 2, it’s Miller again. “Yeah, try again,“ says a host of Bison. (Or herd, whichever, man.)
On fourth-and-goal, quarterback Jake Bailey gives it a try and he’s stuffed. Stuffed with a capital S, F and, what the heck, give me a capital D at the end as well.
“We hold onto the ball for 9:39, that’s great,“ McDaniel says. “But we got to finish. You get to the 1-yard line, you got to get that other yard.“
True dat, coach. True dat.
Answer me this: How come Boone Jones, after the game, looks at me and says, “You don’t want to talk to me.“
Seriously, Boone? Are you kidding me?
OK, first you pick off a pass at the goal line, yet somehow get called for pass interference (hey, not knocking the refs, they’re human after all) then, in the fourth quarter, you throw your hands in the air (stop just short of waving them like you just don’t care) and pull down an interception at your own 9, enticing the whole Buffalo Gap fan base at the game (and, trust us, there were a lot of them) to scream out “BOOOOOONNEEEEE.“
And you’re wondering why we want to talk to you?
Simple, you’re the man, man. Get it, man? Good, man.
You’re the man.
Just like Pickle. Just like Johnson and just like every member of that Buffalo Gap team right now.
Twenty-two straight wins? Yeah, that makes you more than a man (or the man, whichever).
That makes you, right now, the definition of “team.“
