FOOTBALL LHS GOLDEN ANNIVERSARY OF 1960 TEAM

Last Wednesday night as I read THE DAILY IBERIAN online, I noticed an article about a Loreauville High School football reunion, the Golden Anniversary for the first district championship team coached by legendary L.J. “Jay” Broussard. Pictured were the players on the 1960 team. As I scanned the picture of the 28 players, my heart skipped a beat.  There, in front of my eyes, were three of my former boyfriends and other players who were my almost boyfriends.

I ran upstairs to tell Larry who was racing on his treadmill. I screamed, “You’re not gonna believe this! The Friday night football game in Loreauville is a reunion for the 1960 team. I want to go!”

He nodded his head “ok,” so I checked plane fares. The least expensive flight was $700 round trip. I could fly to China with that fare. As I contemplated driving, Larry came downstairs to book the flight. He insisted that I fly because he knew how important this was to me. I convinced him that I would leave early the next morning, drive slowly, and check in every two hours. After all, I had driven the 600 mile trip alone many times before.

I arrived in Loreauville Thursday evening, hugged AMD forever and told her about the weekend. I was looking forward to the game, and told her I intended to crash Ronnie Dressel’s after game reunion party that I found out about through the Loreauville grapevine.

Friday night, Wanda and I arrived at the stadium at 6:00 p.m. for the 7:00 kickoff. I insisted we sit four rows down under the Pressbox in the center of the seating area. What a perfect 50 yard line view of the field!

Anticipating Laurene’s arrival, I placed my black fringed leather handbag on the seat next to me. I watched as excited fans walked into the stadium. As they filtered in, I was a bit taken by some guests who seemed to crowd us. I kept asking Wanda to move down, and soon we were no longer centered at the 50 yard line. Miffed, I told Wanda that these people were just rude!

Looking at my watch, it was now 7:30 and holding on to a seat for Laurene was getting difficult as the mass of people crowded the stadium.  My cell phone rang. Laurene told me she was in her car parked in the front of LHS and that she was finishing her fourth beer so she could have a buzz at the game. I told her that if she didn’t get there in the next five minutes, I would relinquish her seat to those pushy people crowding me.

Did I mention you that on the next day after the game on Saturday, Willette, my sister, told me that we were sitting in seats belonging to SEASON TICKET HOLDERS? I was mortified! Why didn’t anyone tell us? Why didn’t a security person walk over and ask us to move? I thought, because we’re in Loreauville, and people are nice. If this game had been in Atlanta, we would have been loudly reprimanded and embarrassed.

During the game I was taken back in time. The crisp fall air, the band marching onto the field, the announcer in the Press box welcoming the crowd, the coaches, the players with their little tight butts doing pre-game warm-ups! I was getting flushed.

During halftime, the honored players filed onto the field. Forming a horizontal, single-file line, they waited for the announcer to begin. As Glenn Oubre spoke, he said that he was going to read a prepared statement about those glory years. Then the mike blew a gasket. So instead, he sang STAND BY ME, acapella. As the players filed off the field, the mike came on. Glenn recited the names of each player, but they had already left the field. I was ticked. I wanted so much to see something in a program delineating this team’s magical football season or hear an acclamation of their hard work.

Wanda and Laurene left after the half. Sitting alone, I heard someone yelling, “Patricia! Patricia!” It was Beth Walet Boggs, married to Larry’s nephew Paul Boggs. I moved up to sit near her and her two sisters. We laughed as we reminisced about LHS and Loreauville.

The game ended with these stats: Nick Julien rushed for 238 yards and two touchdowns as Loreauville blew past Opelousas Catholic 35-14 in this District 6-2A game.

Jeanne Dugas, my cousin, gave me directions to Mick’s home. I drove across the bridge, turned left at Breaux Baycraft, drove down a very dark road past Cajun Drive to Mick’s well-lit property. I parked among the thirty or so cars and walked into a huge, beautiful entertainment room large enough to accommodate a huge party crowd. Glass walls formed the entire back and side walls of the room and which overlooked a serene setting graced by fountains.

I talked to Roberta and Julie Martin and glanced around the room to see if I recognized anyone else. I spoke with Darlene and Fefe, Hardy Broussard, my classmate Cheryl’s big brother, Kenneth Adcock, then Lynward Oubre introduced me to his beautiful wife, Lynette. She invited me to sit next to her on the couch. She asked Lynward to stand behind us so he could identify people for us.

Fifty years had passed, and I wasn’t certain how many of these people I could remember. Lynward jokingly told me I would have to fend for myself. No one wore name tags. I left Loreauville in 1964 to go to college then moved to Texas and Georgia, so I had not been in touch with anyone there all those years. Life got in the way.

I knew Lynward and Lynette lived in La Triomphe, and I assumed she was not a native of Louisiana. When she said she was from Catahoula, we commiserated about how we felt like outsiders at that moment because everyone else seemed to share so many commonalities foreign to us.

Then Mick announced that Joe Judice, my favorite boyfriend in high school, would speak. Joe thanked several people who loaned him scrapbooks with clippings of every game during that amazing football season in 1960. He had taken the time to glean information about each game and invited the players to chime in as he traveled back in time helping them to resurrect specific memories.

He and the other players remembered so much about each game that I was really moved. Jackbean’s stories about being trampled and slaughtered by bigger players at every game he played, Craig Dauterieve, quarterback, recalling the Gueydon game when the players called out plays in French, Joe’s memory of a game they played in 18 degree weather, Butsy’s funny stories about the players throwing up or fainting at practice or being scared s----less of Coach Broussard had us all in stitches.  I so wished I had had a video camera.

After Joe finished his amazing trip down memory lane, I noticed that Butsy, halfback, seemed overwhelmed emotionally.

I decided it was time to visit again. I found Ronnie Broussard. I reminded him how he used to blow in my ear when we danced together. We laughed.

Terry Edler and I dated a few times. He reminded me that when we were both thirteen, I had hauled him behind Pop Wick’s General Merchandise store and laid a smacker on him that made him dizzy. I feel certain he imagined that memory. After all, I was President of the Children of Mary.

I talked to Mutchie for a long time. I asked him if he remembered dating Janie Suard, who was one of my close friends. I visited Janie often at her family’s home in Marsh Field. We played records from her amazing collection, Bobby Blue Bland, Aretha, Otis Redding, Mary Wells, and so on and talked about teenaged stuff.

I reminded Lynward that he escorted me when I was presented for some LHS function in the gym. I have the picture of that event, but I don’t remember the occasion.

And then, Jackbean. He was standing alone near a window. I walked over to him and kissed him on the top of his head. Shocked, he blurted, “Mais sha, I don know who you are, but I wanna know.”  Same Jackbean. Hysterical every time he opens his mouth.

I reminded him that he used to jitterbug with me every time our crowd went to Ebou’s to warm up as a precursor to our plan to go to the Oriental or Slick’s. I told him that he was undoubtedly the best dancer in Loreauville. When he danced a slow dance, he would take quick steps, then out of the blue, stop abruptly, look you in the eye, and assess your ability to follow his moves. Such a challenge!

I told Jackbean that I was angry with him all these years because I actually kept score of the  times he asked another particular girl to dance, and if he danced with her more often than he danced with me, I would go home and stick needles in my Jackbean voodoo doll and put a gris gris on him. Such a sweet guy. We had so much fun.

I was really disappointed that my cousin Curtis Dugas did not attend. Curtis dated my best friend Claudette and, I think, Linda Lissard. I’ve lost track of him. Donnie Ashurst was also missing. Donnie was my mentor in band. We both played flute and piccolo from 6^th to 12^th grade. He was like a brother to me, coaching and encouraging me in the many school activities I participated in.

I have lived in three states, taught in ten high schools in Louisiana, Texas, and Georgia, and never have I witnessed in schools I taught the amazing bond and camaraderie developed among these men. Schools where I taught had populations as large as 3,000 students. It is not uncommon to have a graduating class of 800 seniors. Only the very best players are selected for teams.

I feel tremendously fortunate to have lived in Loreauville and to have had the experience of small town life. The lessons I learned were very important in giving me the opportunities to live the good life, as Plato says.

 Coach Broussard did have the Vince Lombardi coaching repertoire, and he saw great potential in these boys’ work ethic, positive attitude, determination, leadership, and respect for each other. I admire them and the lessons they could teach upcoming players about how team building can affect life outside of the realm of the school and the football field.

The current LHS coach, Delahoussaye the Younger, should use the wisdom the 1960 team gained as players to teach the current team how the values they learned translated into real life. After all, they are successful businessmen, leaders in their communities, and will forever be remembered as the first LHS football team to bring home a district championship.

The Boys of Fall       

When I feel that chill, smell that fresh cut grass
I'm back in my helmet, cleats and shoulder pads
Standing in the huddle listening to the call
Fans going crazy for the boys of fall
They didn't let just anybody in that club
Took every ounce of heart and sweat and blood
To get to wear those game day jerseys down the hall
Kings of the school man, we're the boys of fall


Well it's turn and face the Stars and Stripes
It's fighting back them butterflies
It's call it in the air, alright yes sir we want the ball
And it's knocking heads and talking trash
It's slinging mud and dirt and grass
It's I got your number, I got your back when your back's against the wall
You mess with one man you got us all
The boys of fall

In little towns like mine that's all they got
Newspaper clippings fill the coffee shops
The old men will always think they know it all
Young girls will dream about the boys of fall

Well it's turn and face the Stars and Stripes
It's fighting back them butterflies
It's call it in the air, alright yes sir we want the ball
And it's knocking heads and talking trash
It's slinging mud and dirt and grass
It's I got your number, I got your back when your back's against the wall
You mess with one man you got us all

Well it's turn and face the Stars and Stripes
It's fighting back them butterflies
It's call it in the air, alright yes sir we want the ball
And it's knocking heads and talking trash
It's slinging mud and dirt and grass
It's I got your number, I got your back when your back's against the wall
You mess with one man you got us all
The boys of fall

We're the boys of fall

We're the boys of fall

 -----Kenny Chesney