I still remember the first time my dad let me stay up and watch Monday Night Football and I didn’t have to go to bed at halftime. November 20, 1978, when we were living in Brownstown. There was this rookie running back who had won the Heisman Trophy the season before as he led his Texas Longhorns to the 1977 National Championship. Oh yes, we are talking about Earl Campbell. That night, Campbell’s Houston Oilers were taking on the Miami Dolphins in what was only the Oilers’ fourth appearance on Monday Night Football which began in 1970.

I can’t imagine what went through the mind of Miami defensive back, Tim Foley, when he realized he was charged with tackling the thighs of Earl Campbell. One of them was bigger than the 194-pound Foley. The statistician that night should have been fired. That was a 200-yard game. I know it was. I know it was. Luv Ya Blue signs were all over the Astrodome. The Oilers won 35-30 on Monday Night Football that night for the first time. Earl Campbell rushed for 199 yards officially. 202 in the reality of a ten-year-old. Even all those years ago, I knew I was watching something special. It was one of those. There aren’t many. The game lived up to every anticipation. Bob Griese threw for 349 yards and kept the Dolphins close, of course. I think Bob threw 22 touchdowns in 1978. No, I didn’t look that up. I will now. I was a year off. He threw 22 TDs in 1977. He only started 9 games in 1978.

This is the field of my youth. I played on this on this field as a 4th and 5th grader attending Brownstown Central Elementary School. I played for the Bears in 1977. I played for the Oilers in 1978. I hauled in one pass each season, playing tight end. And I tackled a few folks from the defensive end position. I came back to this field in 1981 playing guard and defensive tackle for the North Harrison Cougars Middle School team. We lost badly. I cried on the bus home until we got to Salem. There would be two more trips as a player for me in high school. They were two victories for the road team. Those were enjoyable bus rides home and made some tough times a little better.

I will say it again. This is the field of my youth. Recently I discovered something that I had never known before. My dad coached at Brownstown for twelve years. Never heard a word of this. I am curious. I need to know. I want to visit the spot. Conventional wisdom will tell you that Brownstown Central Football began in 1965 after the great consolidation that was a fashionable move in that day.

In 1912 and 1913, Brownstown High School played football and compiled an 11-1 record. The only game they lost in 1912 was to the defending state champions, Brownsburg. Brownsburg beat Brownstown 169-0 that day. And I thought we did something in 1984 when my North Harrison team beat Brownstown Central 59-0.

These 1912 and 1913 teams played French Lick, Mitchell, North Vernon, Bedford, and Clearspring. They played some of these teams multiple times during these seasons. The 1912 team beat Clearspring 141-0. The two wins over French Lick in 1913 were by scores of 19-0 and 19-12. They beat North Vernon 85-0 that year.

So, what about the 1914 season? Not enough players. The football boys graduated. The football boys. I have never heard that before I just typed it. I have heard “The basketball boys” all my early life and my professional life at Medora, with a sense of “reverence” that just does not hold much weight in 2025.

What’s next? I need to know where they played these games in Brownstown back in 1912 and 1913. I owe them that much. It’s a football way.

Well, here we are. A new writing platform. A new day. The picture above was taken a year and a few months after I began writing my previous endeavor speaktherights-dot-com. speaktherights is no more. You won’t find it. But…that old content is still archived on this new page.

On this day in 2015 pictured above, I was 47 and still convinced that kicking anything less than a 40-yard field goal would be unacceptable, unheard of, unreal. I’m 57 now. If I could kick one 40 yards today, I would think THAT was unreal. I miss it. I really do. Few things in this life have made more sense to me than spending three hours on a football field swinging my leg and watching a ball fly over a goal post. After a while of that, I would punt the ball. Turn it loose at five yards shy of the 50 and watch a nice spiral that came down at the at the 7-yard line and rolled out of bounds at the two. That was a reason to run down the field with a great deal of joy and meaning and do it all over again in the other direction. There was a time on the North Harrison football field when I knew exactly what the ball would do, depending on where the ball landed. I knew every inch of the field.

I was born into a football family. My Dad was a coach. I lived that life. Surrounded by players, characters really, that I will certainly get around to writing stories about. So many players I remember like they would not believe.

The game of football has been great to me. The game of football has been the bane of my life. I don’t know how else to describe it. These are stories we will get to, I assure you. I need to tell these stories for cathartic reasons. Let those chips fall where they may. Some of these stories are glorious. Some are just plain telling and sad. I won’t hold back.

In the process, we will look at every week of the college football season and make those predictions. I have been fortunate to be able to cover Indiana University Football games the last few years from an interesting perspective. Hopefully, that will continue. Either way, I will be in Bloomington to witness what I predict will be a season for the IU Football team that will be every bit as enticing as the 2024 IU Football season. Trust me, I have my reasons. And Paul Finebaum will hate every minute of it!

This is going to be fun. Let’s enjoy it.

If I could put together a soundtrack for this post it would start with the song I am listening to now. Edge of a Dream by Joe Cocker is playing. Yes, the same one I wrote about recently when I spoke of the movie TEACHERS.

Maybe I would play the TRAIN songs This Ain’t Goodbye or The Finish Line. I was playing those two incessantly ten years ago when I knew I was leaving Medora Schools for North Harrison. This is the first time I have mentioned that. But, as was the custom in mornings before school, I walked laps around the basketball court at Medora. Those two TRAIN songs I played over and over again as I walked and readied myself to say goodbye to a place that had been very kind to me. I am glad to say North and I are on great footing these days also.

I just put on Pink Floyd’s The Final Cut. The one that was the last one with Roger Waters. It was time for him to go. I loved the David Gilmour led reclamation in 1987 that was their next album A Momentary Lapse of Reason. One could argue it was the best comeback after a band’s lead singer and songwriter left them high and dry.

There is a theme building here.

This was the first picture I posted on speaktherights.com in July of 2014. On that post I explained the origin of the name speaktherights.com:

Speak the rights really took on a life of its own when I was broadcasting high school football games.  My buddy Gus Stephenson and I had a grand time for a while relaying the plaudits of the athletic endeavors of teenage heroes on the gridiron.  We enjoyed doing so for a number of years until it was time to move on.  When I would agree with Gus at times, I would steal a line from a Shakespearean play where the character says to another: “Thou speak’st aright”. “YOU SPEAK THE RIGHTS, GUS!”

That is where it all started.

This is where it ends.

speaktherights.com took off nicely. I thank those of you who have read consistently. I know I have certainly had fun with it. We have shared stories about family, music, football, school endeavors, travel, golf, politics, and life in general. I have enjoyed it all. I never sat down to write without wanting to do so. This is post number 794 of speaktherights.com. That is a great deal of writing. I know there are over a million words here.

Let me take one more time to thank Dr. Millard Dunn and Dr. Bill Sweigart for helping me understand that my words do matter and that I do happen to know how to craft them without sounding like a complete dunderhead. Teachers matter. Without the two aforementioned gentleman, I have no idea what I would be doing today. They gave me permission to use my voice the way I need to. I have written about them here.

I wrote about Dr. Millard Dunn at length ten years ago. He told me he thought it was a little scary that I knew him so well. I paraphrase there. I only know him because he opened the door for me.

I had no idea that the year I would begin writing the speaktherights.com that my Granny, Floreta Johnson, would fall ill that autumn. I used these pages as a cathartic release.

I wrote more about The Moody Blues than anyone ever wanted to read about. I make no apologies. It was worth it. Their music has had a positive impact on my life. I wish more had listened too.

I have spent more time than a little bit writing about the Indiana Hoosiers Football Team. My disdain for Coach Kevin Wilson. My true affection for Coach Tom Allen. My skepticism turned belief in Coach Curt Cignetti. I have had a nice look at IU Football from the stands, press box and the field.

This photo with my friends Adam Disque, Andrew Evertts, and Russell Harrell is indicative of the IU season last year. This was a special time with these guys.

Family time is special time.

I said I would not use this photo again. WRONG. Thank you, Aunt Barbara. My Ole Miss Football watching buddy has been gone more than a year now. College Football has not been the same. I miss you so much. We covered so much ground the last few years of her life. I am honored and thankful.

I was glad to see Charlie Brown and my Dad hanging out in an old Braves jersey.

Speaking of my Dad, I would not trade this photo for anything. I’ll say it. These were his favorite players at each of his head coaching stops. Barry Hall from Brownstown Central and Kevin Samons from North Harrison. Don’t let him tell you otherwise.

What was better than me and granddaughter Penny watching IU beat Purdue on the laptop this past November in Florida? Nothing. Look at our intensity! This while IU was leading by more than 50.

I can’t do it. There is not enough room.

There is not enough time or room to talk about all the football games, all the travel, all the walks around Walden Pond, all the fun in the classrooms, all the good times.

I will leave you with a few scenes from a great night at The Rose Bowl in 2016.

My Dad turned around as he walked in the tunnel that led us to The Rose Bowl Stadium. It was a dream come true. I always wanted to take my Dad to the home of our January 1st heroes. The UCLA-USC game was the next best thing.

I hope no one ever wonders why I have a soft spot for UCLA and The Rose Bowl.

After all, I was 2 for 2 there (The Rose Bowl).

I know I have left out more folks and loved ones that I can comprehend right now. My speaktherights.com page has more than 3100 pictures in it.

I have been asked which speaktherights.com post is my favorite. That is easy. The post I wrote about my friends in the BROWN family was my favorite. I was there. And I love these guys.

Footballs are BROWN – speaktherights.com

I am moving on to new platform that will be made known. This is last time I will speaktherights.

Know that I have enjoyed it all and I thank you for reading. I am not going away. Keep watching!