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A few weeks back, a mentor challenged me to share my top life achievements. Now listen here, when I say top life achievements, I’m not talking about marrying my wife (the woman of my dreams) or fathering two beautiful, precious little girls. Why? Well, simply put, these moments pale in comparison to my former glory days. My top life achievements have nothing to do with what’s really important in life. They have everything to do with my high school football career. For that, we need to head back to the Spring of 1999…
As you know, I attended boarding school in central Virginia. My roommate, Cutter (yes, his legal name was Cutter) decided to come home with me for the weekend. Cutter thought it would be a great idea to tell my father that I wanted to play football. This, of course, was not true, and he just wanted to be an a-hole. We were all driving in the car when Cutter made this fateful comment. Upon hearing it, my father swerved the car to the side of the road (going 80 mph), slammed on the brakes, looked into my eyes and said…“It has been my dream for one of my sons to play high school football. Do you mean it? Are you really going to play next season?”. Since my brother had already graduated college, there was zero way out of this one and it was on me to take over the Oakman tradition of playing high school football.
It has been confirmed by coaches and teammates, I possessed astonishing locker room awareness. On field performance, well, after you read these achievements, you can be the judge of that...here we go, my top Lifetime Achievements from High School Football.
1. My stats: I played a lot of special teams; I mean a lot. Every Super Bowl-winning coach will tell you Special Teams win games (they might not mean Super Bowls, but still). I didn’t have many opportunities to earn stats, but being the gritty fighter I am, I never took a chance for granted. During my junior year, I was 4th in all-purpose yards. You see, I returned a kickoff (it was an accident), and as soon I as picked up the ball I ran as fast as I could. Even though my coach was screaming at me to drop (he later told me he was afraid I was going to fumble), I managed 18 yards on the return. During the end of the year Football Banquet, there was a misprint and an extra zero was added to my return. The mistake continued to the All-Purpose Stats as well. Peter Oakman, 1 return for 180 yards. Yards are given, not earned-remember that.
2. Pre-Game Warmups: My head coach was more about teaching life lessons than winning football games (we went 3-6 my senior year). Before each game, Bobby, Cutter, and myself practiced our endzone dances. Bobby created the plan that if any of us scored, we would perform the Pee Wee Herman bar dance.
The Offensive Coordinator caught wind of what was going on. He stormed over to us and shouted something along the lines of “You 3 morons, what the h** is wrong with you?! It’s BS like this that keeps you off the field. You will never play because you can’t take this serious! Have some damn pride for once! Every week it’s the same stupid horse s*** from you three!” As the he stormed off, the Head Coach walked over to us. He stared at us, leaned in, and said, “Nice Pee Wee dance guys. See you boys on the field.” After the season, the head coach transferred to the position of Athletic Director (not sure why?).
3. The Touchdown: The final game of our senior year, (2-6 record), the head coach was determined to play all seniors for at least 3 quarters no matter what. It was a big moment for the dominant three, Cutter, Bobby, and myself. We were actually going to play when it mattered. We had one minor misstep before the game (we went a little crazy with the eye black), nevertheless, we came out hungry and ready for battle. During the 4th quarter, our team was up 32-6 and the head coach decided to put me in at WR. Pro Hawk Left, 889 was the call. At that time (and to this day), I didn’t understand the formations or what I was actually supposed to do. I just figured I’d run toward the endzone and see what would happen; it’s high school football, and all plays get blown up after 4 seconds so what’s the difference? As I was using my 6.2 40-yard dash speed, I sprinted down the field then looked back at the QB as he kept motioning me to go to the endzone (bro, I’m making up my own play of course I’m going to the endzone). As the QB threw the ball, I remember sticking out my hands and closing my eyes. The next thing I knew, the ball was in my hands and I was shedding off the free safety. I crossed the goal line and watched the ref raise his arms signaling my 48-yard TOUCHDOWN. I’m pretty sure the entire Eastern seaboard could hear my father cheering. I did it; I actually scored a touchdown, in a real game, when it didn’t matter. As the entire offense ran to greet me in the endzone, the head official blew his whistle and called holding on our right tackle. To this day, I never saw a flag and it didn’t matter—everyone that stadium knew what I had done.
4. The Immaculate Hit: As I had mentioned, I played a lot of special teams. During our home opener, the true capabilities of my 154-pound body (composed of tiger meat) was made known. The ball was kicked, and I raced down the field in hopes of destroying the return man. A pile of players from both teams began to form when our starting fullback and defensive end emerged and made one of the loudest hits I’ve ever heard. He hit the runner with so much force, he fumbled the ball. As the pile moved toward to the ball and the play was over, I surfaced overtop of the return man. The sideline started chanting my name and praising me for laying out such a powerful hit. Because of the angle of the pile, they couldn’t see that it was my teammate who made the stop. I told Bobby and Cutter (whom both advised me to keep my mouth shut). My glory lived on; during our team meeting the following Monday, I was nominated for “Hit of the Week” and was awarded a team sticker for the back of my helmet. It all came to an end when I let the little voice inside my head prevail. I privately met with my coach and let him know that I didn’t make that hit. The coached leaned back in his chair, looked into my eyes and said, “Trust me, I knew you didn’t make the hit. You could never hit that hard. I figured you could use the glory this time”.
5. The Hands Team Special: We traveled two hours to battle one of our bitter rivals (we had two for some reason). Our school took numerous vans and carpools so students could come and watch the game. I was a little nervous, as my crush had decided to come with her friends. In my head, I was replaying her words to me, “Hey Pete, I’ll be at the game on Saturday. Can’t wait to see you play”. And in my head, I was responding, “Don’t you worry baby, I’ll be on the field for every Kickoff, Kickoff Return, or Hands Team!” With 28 seconds to go in the first half, the opponents lined up for an onside kick. I made eye contact with their kicker, who stared right back at me. We had a moment; it was nice. He kicked the ball right to me-- the ball bounced, hit my hands, then my chest, then popped out so the other team could retrieve it. It was bad. I walked back to the sideline, met by players putting put their arms around me and encouraging me. They gave me the old, “shake it off, you’ll get it back.” As I stood there motionless, Bobby made his way to me; I looked at him, and he put his arm around me and said, “You really blew it man. It was bad. That was really bad, and everyone from the school saw it, and I mean EVERYONE! Do you think you’ll ask her for a date or should you wait a month or two so she can forget about what happened?”
Honorable Mention: I was awarded the prestigious “Coaches Award” at our Football Banquet. I was not in attendance because I was away in Washington D.C., representing our school as the Head Delegate at Model OAS (Organization of American States). We discussed mock diplomatic situations between North and South America. It was as prestigious as it sounds, and I took it just as seriously as I took high school football.
Cutter and Pete
Sweet Necklace Brah
Vaya Con Dios
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