A Gathering of Bridgemen

It started about 5 years ago; just a few former teammates getting together for a Thanksgiving morning breakfast at the Plaza Diner in Fort Lee, NJ. They had all played football together at Fort Lee High School in the late 60's and early 70's. It was a way to come together and maintain a bond that, for me, made team sports worth playing.

I was not at the first few gatherings but I had heard about them. I guy that I work with in NY also played football at Fort Lee around the same time that I had. He had run into one of the original organizers who invited him to come and to invite other former players as well. After a few years of saying "maybe", last year we decided to attend for the first time. By then, it had outgrown a back table at the Plaza Diner and was being held at the VFW Hall in Fort Lee.

At first, I was a little apprehensive about attending. I try to be a forward looking person and am not very into nostalgia. But I thought, how could it hurt? I had always enjoyed my teammates and hoped that I would again. But how much had they changed? How much had I changed? After all, nothing remains unaltered. Even the town itself had changed radically. It went from a town with mostly Italian, Irish and a few Jewish families to overwhelmingly Asian.

When we arrived at the VFW there were about 25-30 men milling about the small meeting hall. Most were in their 50's and 60's, and, surprisingly, in pretty good shape. In fact, a few of the guys looked as if they could still play a down or two! Most of the faces were unrecognizable to me. They had not played on my team or during my era. However, there were a select few whom I recognized almost immediately. They were my teammates; the boys who I sweat with, bled with, cried and laughed with. They appeared as grown men but I saw the boys I knew beneath them all. Some I had not seen in 40 years but I still knew exactly who they were.

Over coffee and bagels we spent a few hours catching up. It had been a lifetime and there was much to learn about all of them. There were families, children, and careers to talk about. And, of course, there were reminisces of past gridiron glory. Well, maybe we were a little short on the glory part, our team was not very good! But what was glorious was the confirmation of what the word teammate really means. These "boys to men" were, at one time, my brothers and I found out they still are. And I am proud to say that they had all grown to be outstanding people. They are husbands, fathers, and sons. They are successful in one way or another. It was an affirmation of all we played for - one another. We all had withstood so much bull shit to play what many people consider an insane game. We played in an era when we weren't allowed to drink water, even at the hottest practices. Sanitary conditions were non existent. If we would have know what a mersa infection was, I'm sure we would have all had it! We suffered the indignities of coaches questioning our manhood and lineage, while they preached perseverance. We were told that everything could be overcome if we stuck together and persevered. We thought they were insane and just plain evil and cruel. But, now, 40 years later, I realize they were right. We did overcome and it helped us become the men that filled that VFW Hall in Fort Lee. The bond that we all felt in that room was forged on those rock strewn playing fields, smelly locker rooms, and sweaty gymnasiums where we spent our youth. I suppose that Ben Franklin's quote urging unity during the Revolution sums it up best: "if we don't hang together, we will most certainly hang separately".

At this years Gathering of Bridgemen (our rather awkward team name) there were many of the same faces I had seen the year before and a few new ones that I thoroughly enjoyed seeing. I'll sleep well tonight knowing that the more some things change, the more they remain the same. We loved each other then and we still do. And, in this case, that's just fine by me.