In The Huddle

As a football coach Story was always a contradiction.

His teams were grounded in fundamentals and scored hundred of victories with a trademark simple attack. However, the Bulldogs constantly kept opponents off balance with unorthodox, some may call them trick, plays.

Story’s demeanor was always that of a kindly grandfather. But if anyone crossed the veteran coach, his players or his program, they’d get a firsthand look at the fire-and-brimstone temper that fueled countless pregame and halftime speeches.

But one thing that was a constant was his love of his school.

After 25 years as head coach, as well as four years as a player and a year as an assistant coach, Story simply was Williams football, though he would never admit as much. That’s saying a lot considering coaches like Stan Huffman, C.A. Frye, Jerome Evans and Pete Stout did plenty to weave the tapestry of the football tradition at the school.

It’s no coincidence that when references to the “Williams Bulldogs” are found in letters to the editor or other reader feedback we get, they are almost always follow by “coached by Sam Story.”

Sure, the Bulldogs will win more titles. They’ll have other successful coaches. But there will
never be another Sam Story.
While his success on the field has been impressive, the close-knit environment he helped create, is what defines the program. Just go down on the field after a home game. With the turnout of fans, former players, families and other well-wishers, there’s no hiding the love that ties the Bulldogs’ football program together.

Something tells me that’s just the way he drew it up.

Somewhere between a game-sealing fourth quarter touchdown and the obligatory post-game handshakes, things at last season’s Western Alamance win at Northeast Guilford went sideways.

On this night, the usually banal moments after the final seconds ticked off turned into its most intense point as feelings were hurt, normally cool-headed coaches began shouting at one another and shoves were exchanged. Quick thinking by a handful to team officials and security officers averted what looked as if it would turn into a riot.

I was in the middle of it, slack-jawed and searching for words. Jeff Carlton, who was covering the game for the Greensboro News & Record was there to. After witnessing the scene, he summed it up with his trademark dry humor.

“Well … that was interesting,” he quipped.

Jeff died early Thursday after a long battle with brain cancer. He was 36.

For the last few years, he worked alongside me, manning the preps beat for our closest competitor. He was a good reporter and a welcome sight whenever we ended up at the same assignment.

Anyone who has covered high school sports knows that while rewarding, the beat can present a unique set of challenges. That shared experience creates a bond among people who do it. Jeff had two stints on the preps beat, meaning he had usually dealt with whatever situation any of us was facing at the time and had come through it, often with a good story.

Covering preps can be great fun but it can also be a minefield. Jeff never seemed fazed by any of it. I guess cancer has a funny way of not letting you lose sleep over the little things.

There are many people at this paper and in the sports journalism field who knew Jeff a lot better than I did. But I do know that he will be missed by everyone.

I know its a few days old, but I have one thought on the whole Roger Clemens/Brian MacNamee deal from Wednesday.

By now you’ve heard that nobody looked good, not Clemens, not MacNamee, not Congress, nobody.

But when Indiana Republican Dan Burton started ripping into MacNamee, who is no doubt a sleazebag, I felt like things went over the line a bit and I actually started to feel bad for the drug dealer.

Burton had MacNamee’s early responses to investigators’ questions and, sure enough they didn’t add up to the final story he told in the Mitchell Report. I chalk this up to MacNamee trying to protect his clients and friends at first, before he knew the scope of the trouble he would be in if he continued lying. Eventually, he realized to save his skin he would have to tell the whole story. MacNamee admitted as much.

Instead Burton, who really came off as an obtuse bully, lit into MacNamee, essentially trying to hammer home the point that if he lied once, you can’t believe anything else he says.

At that point, a good analogy flashed into my head. Follow me on this one. Let’s say you’re cheating on your wife. She sees some signs and asks you about it. You lie and deny it.

Let’s then say, a few weeks or months go by she gets more and more evidence that you’ve been running around on her and she confronts you again, this time, there’s no way out. So you tell her everything.

Sure, you lied at first, but that doesn’t necessarily mean that you’re not telling the truth now.

I wish MacNamee had thrown that out there to explain why his answers didn’t match. It likely would have shut Burton up.

Do a little homework on Burton and you’ll see why. He’s been in public office since 1970 and has represented Indiana’s 6th district since 1982. A born-again Christian, his website claims he is one of the leading conservative voices on issues like gun control and stopping gay marriage.

Oh yeah, he also fathered a child with a staffer in 1983. I’m sure this came as news to his longtime wife Barbara, with whom he had three other kids. Yikes.

Good to see it isn’t stopping him from claiming the moral high ground though.

But that’s enough major league baseball and politics for this blog. I’m not a fan of either.

Here are some of my thoughts from tonight’s Super Bowl XLII…

-You know, I had these crazy thoughts heading into tonight’s game. I pictured it ending like the final moments of some cheesy sports movie. You could see the Patriots, a team of perfect villains (Sorry Pats fans) having a season’s worth of karmic checks being cashed in one delicious come-uppance with a stoic Bill Belichick seeing the error of his ways while a formerly dictatorial Tom Coughlin reaping the rewards of lightening up.

You could see a neglected little brother Eli Manning finally getting the respect of his father and big brother while the icy Gisele tosses her appletini and storms out of the luxury box hoping to go somewhere, anywhere to get the stink of a loser off of her.

I thought that was just Hollywood.

Apparently not.

By the way, just when I thought I had outgrown sports, this happens. Now I’m hooked for another few years. No good I tell you. No good. My fiancé is shaking her head disapprovingly, a sight I’m sure all see for years to come.

-Justin Hite called it. Our intern was the only one with the cajones to pick the Giants and, damn if he wasn’t spot on. Good for him.

-How can you not like Michael Strahan? Seriously, that guy is the straightest shooter in pro sports since Charles Barkley retired. And endearing as hell. I’m not a Giants fan, but I was ready to plop down the cash for Strahan jersey after watching his postgame.

On a related note, our former intern Brian Guiffra used to roll into our office for agate shifts rocking a game-worn David Tyree jersey. Apparently his dad was tight with the Giants receiver or something. But yeah, Brian should wear that every day for about the next month or so. Tyree was a stud.

- I wish the ‘72 Dolphins would go away. Sadly, the Giants made sure we’ll still have to hear from them each time a team takes a perfect record into October. Thanks New York.

-So recently retired Giants running back Tiki Barber goes from voice of reason on a dysfunctional team five months ago to locker room cancer. Yikes.

-I hope when Pennsylvania senator Arlen Spector finds out that the Giants won, he’ll drop this interest in Spygate. I mean, aren’t we at war? Aren’t we in a recession? How about the fact that I can’t flush my toilet because we don’t have enough water? How about the fact that my 401K looks as if it’s headed into that aforementioned toilet? Look into that.

- Quote of the year thus far: “We’re only going to score 17 points? (Laughter) Is (Plaxico Burress) going to play defense?” - Tom Brady.

Hubris, thy name is New England. While you’re reaching for your dictionary, look up schadenfreude as well. It’s relevant.

(For those of you that didn’t see the game, the Giants won 17-14 and Burress caught the game-winning touchdown. You should really watch more TV. I’m not judging, I’m just saying.)

-By the way, the Pats are going to win Super Bowl XLIII. That’s pretty much common knowledge, right? This time next year, the NFL will be scorched earth with Brady, Belichick and the rest of the Pats in full flex. This will happen.

So the economy is tanking, the Middle East is a mess and is so cold outside that it makes Ron Paul’s presidential hopes seem white hot by comparison.

If there’s one boys’ basketball coach that can identify with the troubling times it is Orange’s Greg Motley.

Motley’s Panthers (7-9 overall, 4-7 Mid-State 2-A) faced a three-day gauntlet this week.

Wednesday night it was a 68-48 loss at undefeated Graham.

Thursday night it was a 58-56 loss at defending Class 2-A champ Cummings.

Friday night it was a 61-50 loss at Cardinal Gibbons.

I doubt Motley will be send his schedule-maker a thank you note.

Getting three of the league’s toughest road trips out of the way in one pass may have its advantages in the long run, but this week, it was certainly no fun.

“(It’s OK) if it doesn’t kill us going through,” Motley said. “We’re just trying to find out what we need to do to be successful. But we’re going to be a better team because of who we’ve played.”

You would think that helping guide your school to three basketball state championships and a football state title might buy a guy some pull when it comes to getting a seat at your alma mater’s games. In the case of former Cummings multi-sport star Dwight Jones, apparently not.

Jones, who’s spending the spring working on his grades to take advantage of a football scholship at North Carolina, tried to watch his Cummings Cavaliers take on Graham in a much-anticipated boys’ basketball showdown Friday night. But Jones found himself among the scores of fans turned away after Graham’s home gym reached capacity.

“We left the house late anyway,” Jones said. “But by the time we got there, the line was to the buses. We just went home.”

It’s not like Jones hasn’t gotten a good look at the Red Devils, who beat the Cavs 80-66 by the way. He said he’s played against Red Devils players Nate Blackburn and
Preston Newlin in pickup games at the YMCA.

“I knew they’d be good,” Jones said.

There’s a predictable a tiresome refrain that comes from our neophyte Old North State residents each time a sporting event, usually a high school football game, gets called off because of bad weather. It usually comes from folks from New York, New Jersey, New England, etc. and it usually follows the logic that high school football is superior back there because they play it in all kinds of bad weather, meaning the kids are tougher (as opposed to those pansies that grow up playing football in places like Texas and Florida).

While I disagree with much of that sentiment, there is a grain of truth. Yes, us Southerners aren’t usually fans of winter weather (come talk to us when it’s 90 degrees and 100 percent relative humidity, though).

But anyway, don’t lump N.C. State fans into that crowd.

With snow, or sleet, or freezing rain, or whatever you want to call that mess that was coming down Saturday night, in full throat as fans made their way to the RBC Center for the Wolfpack’s must-win ACC game with No. 21 Miami, more than 12,000 energetic Wolfpack fans kept the RBC Center loud for two halves and overtime.

They left happy as Gavin Grant’s steal and layup gave N.C. State the 79-77 win.

Grant said he was surprised by the turnout. Then the Bronx native proceeded to join in the chorus of those from north of here ridiculing our reaction to the white stuff.

“There were a lot of people here (Saturday night),” Grant said. “I’m from New York where it snows all the time. The first time it snowed while I was down here, it was like an inch and they shut everything down. … I was shocked.”

It’s nothing we haven’t heard before Gavin.

I’ve always thought that writing blog entries (or columns) around a theme like “My new year’s resolutions” and filling them with lines like “I resolve to always pay cash for my performance-enhancing drugs” is a played-out, unoriginal idea. Since my New Year’s resolution was to shy away from played-out, unoriginal ideas, I’m just going to hit with a couple of thoughts from my travels through the area sports world during the past few weeks.

HOOPS HOTBED: Graham and Cummings met in the final of the Times-News Holiday Classic and for fans of high school basketball around here, it was worth the wait. These two teams have been aching to get at each other after last season’s playoff drama and some offseason transfers. Round one of what is sure to be a multi-volume rivalry went to Graham, 80-79. It had all the feel of an epic prep game, dramatic comebacks, clutch shots, no empty seats and heat and humidity approaching that of the Amazon. Basketball season has indeed begun.

Lost In the breathless accounts of the Cavs-Devils rivalry is the success of the Williams boys. The Bulldogs wrapped up the Capital Bank Classic by beating undefeated Western Alamance. That, combined with a win at Cummings, has helped the Bulldogs stake their claim as one of the area’s heavyweights. Don’t get excited about a Graham/Williams showdown, because it won’t happen. You can thank the Mid-State 2-A Conference and the 97 league games the Red Devils have to play for that. But anyway, the Bulldogs are no doubt going to be one of the top teams in the Mid-State 3-A and should be a team to watch come playoff time.

Speaking of teams that look like a million bucks, how about the Graham girls? They won the Don Amos / Mid-Carolina Bank Holiday Classic and have shown no let up from their Class 2-A runner-up campaign last season. Provided there are no Next-Ivory-Latta-McDonalds-All-Americans out there, this team should be the favorite in Class 2-A.

I’M JUST SAYIN’: So Saturday I was at the Meineke Car Care Bowl. In between cranking out what is sure to be award-winning prose, I couldn’t help but notice something disturbing playing out in the club level seats right in front of the press box. It started when I noticed a pair of nice, blond, female Wake Forest fans returning to their seats with what appeared to be red wine. Then I began noticing a couple of other Deacon fans doing the same. Red, white, it was all over the place.

This led to an epiphany regarding college football and beverages. If you feel the need to drink wine at a football game, you do not deserve a good football team.

Ok, I know that sounds harsh. I’m not saying that just because you can appreciate both the spread option and a nice Oregon Pinot that you shouldn’t have a winning program. If you’ve got both, then hey, you’re living right (Personally, it’s my idea of heaven). I’m just saying that, when your team falls on hard times, don’t expect sympathy.

Football is a game of controlled savagery. It is played by athletes would risk significant physical damage to play positions where many times anonymity comes with the territory. In football there is no subtlety. Subtlety is what wine is all about.

Aside from that, it’s the principle of the thing.

A 3-8 season should be washed down with natty light or Kentucky Gentleman (or Pepsi), not Stags Leap. The fans that risk arrest to smuggle in airplane bottles NEED a good team. The ones that pack a corkscrew, don’t.

This is not a knock on Wake fans. There are plenty of college football stadiums around the country, like maybe one a few miles down Highway 54, that would have lines out the door if fans could plop down a few bucks for a glass of a crisp Chenin Blanc.

NO MORE DRAMA: Was it just me or was 2007 one of the most forgettable sports years you can remember? Of course if you had ties to Boston or the University of Florida, it was more fun than Mardi Gras, Spring Break and a Walker Texas Ranger marathon rolled into one. But for the rest of us, it was kind of boring.

The biggest stories for me were steroids, obscenely-rich college coaching deals and an undefeated Patriots team with all the charm of rabies.

I mean, even the championship races in the major sports were pretty much devoid of drama. Did you actually think anyone was going to beat the Spurs, Red Sox or Hendrick boys? Was it a surprise to anyone that Florida slapped Ohio State around twice?

Here’s hoping that 2008 will be more fun. Maybe Dale Jr. will get one track with a new ride. Maybe the Panthers and Hurricanes will return to their championship form. Maybe the new American Gladiators will be better than the original. Then again, maybe not.

Michael Vick, former Atlanta Falcons quarterback and current poster child for all that is wrong with the world, was sentenced to 23 months in federal prison Monday for running a dog fighting ring and executing several dogs on his rural Virginia property.

Accompanying Vick’s sentence, which was five months longer than the maximum length prosecutors recommended, was the usual media uproar.

It ran the spectrum from those who wanted Vick to spend the better part of the next two years locked in a 3×3-foot cage with a really pissed Doberman to those who just wanted it to be a mildly annoyed Doberman.

Now do I agree with the sentence? Sure. The guy has repeatedly said he regrets his bad judgment. Me taking the Panthers and the points on Sunday, that was bad judgment. Electrocuting dogs that don’t perform well, man, that’s just sick.

He deserves everything he gets.

But while the football-crazy public is getting themselves overheated, calling upon the NFL to continue Vick’s punishment with a lengthy suspension after he gets out and words like ‘lifetime ban’ are being thrown around, my mind can’t help but think about Susan Gutweiler.

Who is Susan Gutweiler?

On the night of Oct. 19, 1998 St. Louis Rams defensive lineman Leonard Little celebrated his 24th birthday.

Little got drunk.

He decided to drive.

He ran a red light.

He slammed his car into Gutweiler’s.

The 47-year old mother died the next day.

Little, who had a blood-alcohol level more than twice Missouri’s legal limit, was convicted of manslaughter and spent 90 days in jail. The NFL weighed in, suspending him for eight games.

He returned midway through the 1999 season, amid protests by anti-drunken driving advocacy groups. The protests eventually died down and Little became a productive member of the Rams’ defense, helping the franchise to its lone Super Bowl title.

Three years after Gutweiler’s death, he signed a contract with the Rams worth $17.6 million.

In 2004 Little’s Mercedes was stopped in a neighboring county going 78 mph in a 55 mph zone. He failed three field sobriety tests.

He dodged that DUI charge when his attorneys attacked the procedures of the arresting officers. He was convicted of speeding and got two years of probation.

Little’s contract with the Rams was extended in 2006. He’s battled injuries this season but has recorded 19 tackles and a sack.

That’s it. Ninety days in jail. Eight games. Meanwhile Susan Gutweiler’s husband Bill, is a widow and judging from his second arrest, Little didn’t learn a thing.

I watched a Rams’ game earlier this year in which Little played. He did some good things. The Rams’ fans cheered. The announcers praised the 10-year league vet.

No mention of Susan Gutweiler.

Meanwhile, her son Mike, who was 15 when Gutweiler died, will celebrate another holiday season this month without a hug, a conversation or a home-cooked meal from his mother.

What does this have to do with Michael Vick? Nothing.

Vick won’t get out of prison until the summer of 2009 at the earliest. He has lost untold millions in endorsement money. The Falcons are trying to recoup the millions they paid him.

Twenty-three months after Gutweiler’s death, Little was starting for the reigning Super Bowl champs.

The NFL, with is shield logo, Clint Eastwood-commissioner Roger Goddell and rabid fans, needs to keep that in mind when it thinks about any post-prison discipline for Vick.

If it doesn’t, it runs the risk of the crime of hypocrisy.

Wait, hypocrisy in pro sports?

Yeah, I know.

Here are a few of my thoughts about Western Alamance’s first state football title…

-Was there any doubt who the best team in Class 3-A was this year? In case you spent the last few weeks in a cave, here are a few things to think about.

At 16-0, Western Alamance was the only undefeated team in the classification. The Warriors were ranked atop the Associated Press Class 3-A poll all season. Second-ranked Rocky Mount, which received a handful of No. 1 votes, got bounced by the Warriors in the playoffs.

Western Alamance defeated Greensboro Dudley, the Class 3-AA champ, on its home field during the regular season.

Yep, the Warriors were by far the class of Class 3-A in 2007.

-One of the things that made Saturday’s onfield championship celebration so special was the presence of so many former players and their families. While the win didn’t give them the state title they fell short of, for all of Warrior Nation, Saturday’s win provided some vindication for those teams.

-Offensive coordinator Jeff Snuffer called a marvelous game less than three days after losing his brother to cancer. I know when there is a war raging overseas, using words like courage and strength outside of that context can become trite, especially when it comes to sports. But the fact that Snuffer was able to focus and be there for his team, and the Warriors to be there for him, showed real grit.

-If you thought there were a lot of those ‘WA’ stickers on cars around town before Saturday. Just wait.

-Never again will any Western Alamance player or coach have to field the question of when will they win a state title. Now they’ll get asked about winning a second one.