And so it goes. You want to talk spotting? You grab whom you can, hand him the binoculars and say, "Just tell me who made the tackle."
First play: "Tackle by 44."
I check the roster taped to the counter. The numbers, of course, are not in order. "There is no 44."
"There is now. Look." Sure enough. A kid is dispatched to the other bench to find out 44's name. He returns breathless.
"I couldn't find 44," he says, and disappears.
One spotter was the father of a player. Instead of spotting, he screamed at his kid. "Get him! Get him! Get him! Get him! Nice tackle! Nice tackle!" I had to put my hand over the mike.
Another was the father of a running back. He was just starting to do a decent job when his boy went down with an injury. "You'd better go with him," I said, and he ran across the field to the hospital.
?As an injured player groans on the field, the crowd watches the ambulance being jump-started in the hospital parking lot, only 500 feet away. Two nurses and an orderly finally get it going by pushing it down a slope, and the fans cheer like crazy.
?The home team, leading 13-12, punts as the final gun goes off. The victorious players hug each other and throw their helmets into the air, while the punt returner runs 45 yards through the celebrating players for the winning touchdown. Behind the goal post, the church bell peals.