Other than war, there is nothing more traumatic, more hellish for a young man, than Two-A-Day football practices. Especially in Oklahoma's brutal August heat, like when I played at Norman High School from 1971-1973.
Back then, as a tiny Tiger, my two-a-day breakfast consisted of a big glass of Gatorade, a piece of dry toast, and two Allerest tablets. Anything more and it would have come up during wind sprints. Anything less and I would have died of heat stroke or hay fever.
I can still remember every practice starting with calisthenics, coaches screaming and whistles blasting, followed by position drills.
Dean Blevins and our other quarterbacks would put on their pink dresses and go throw to the ends, before focusing their efforts on flirting with cheerleaders…