“I found it this morning,” she said as she stuck a sheaf of paper under my eyes. “The piles got mixed up, the Herald stuff got stuck under the yearbook stuff, so I didn’t see it, I don’t know when he even dropped it off, but—”
“What are you talking about?”
“Read it. Read fast.”
I looked at the top of the page, which said:
To the editor of the Herald:
This letter is in response to your article in last month’s issue about the politics of high school football. I was featured in that article, and there are a couple of points concerning myself that I’d like to address. That probably sounds pretty egotistical, because it probably is, but I heard from someone recently that a few details here and there aren’t so terrible. So here are some details.
First of all, thanks for the handsome comment.
Second of all, I wanted to speak to the portion of the article that discussed strategies some high school players use to improve their records outside the realm of practice, hard work, etc. I was used as an example in this discussion; as it was stated, I played the first two years of high school at Shaunessy High School, which is a Class 6 team. It was suggested that I made the move from Shaunessy to Temple Sterling’s team my junior year in order to get more field time, and thus more opportunities to improve my overall record.
While it’s true that stats are really important in high school football today, I can’t admit to such a calculated move myself. The truth is that I came to Temple Sterling because my mom got remarried the summer before my junior year. My stepdad’s daughter already lived in Temple Sterling with her mom, and he wanted to be closer to her.
I don’t typically spread this information around, because I feel like it’s no one else’s business. At the same time, it’s hard for me sometimes to talk about personal stuff, especially when it comes to my family. But I’ve realized recently that that can be a hindrance, and that maybe sometimes what I justify as reserve is really just not giving people enough credit.
As long as I’ve got you here, I’d also like to address the Lake Falls game. Anyone who was at that game may have seen me exercising some pretty unsportsmanlike behavior. I’m embarrassed by how I acted that night, and I’d like to apologize. What I’m about to say isn’t meant as an excuse for it, but as at least a little bit of an explanation.
The truth is that Sam Wells’s death resonated with me personally, and not just because I knew him. Anyone who knew Sam feels the loss of someone who was a great player and a loyal teammate. But I felt a personal connection to this loss because it isn’t the first time I’ve lost someone in that way. When I was in seventh grade, my brother was killed in a single-car accident caused by drunk driving. My dad was behind the wheel.
It sounds weird that a victory against Lake Falls would mean so much, but for me it would have been sort of a victory against people who act without thinking. It’s selfish to think of a game that way. I won’t deny that. I try not to let my feelings get the better of me when I play, but I did at the Lake Falls game. For that, and for the way I acted both on the field and off, I’m truly sorry.
The idea that it doesn’t matter what other people think about you gets thrown around a lot in high school, and in many instances it’s true. But I do care what certain people think of me. I hope that if my actions caused these certain people to lose faith in me, that I can restore that faith, or at least that they’ll let me try.
On that note, keep up the good work, editor. I enjoy the Op-Ed pieces, and also when you print the cafeteria menu.
Ezra Lynley
There was a big old lump in my throat. I swallowed hard.
“Are you going to print this?”