Back in August, my editors sent me north to Gilmer to explore why high school football is such a big deal in small towns. (Click here to read that story).

I met an ex-Buckeye happy to relive the glory days, heard from players and parents, and visited with grandmothers who fatten the coaches with baked goods.

In all my conversations, I met only one critic. High school senior Herbert Hobgood said football was overemphasized in Gilmer, and I sincerely hope he wasn’t pummeled for his comments.

Everybody else in the community, it seemed, lived and died by the exploits of a few teenagers. As one player’s mom put it, “I’m a diehard orange-and-black fan. You’ve just got to support the Buckeyes.”

However, the more time I spent in Gilmer, the more I got to thinking about an entirely different team – the Sabine Cardinals.

I hadn’t been to a Sabine game since 2001, when my youngest brother was a high school junior and a run-stuffing linebacker for the Cards. (I kept up with his senior season via the Internet, on an old computer in Guadalajara, Mexico).

As for my own glory days, I’ve never been too interested in reminiscing. Let’s just say we lost. A lot.

Losing isn’t fun, and writing about losing isn’t much fun, either. But it’s a part of life for a lot of people, and I tried to tell the story of the Cardinals in a way that wouldn’t upset the players’ mothers. (Clikc here to read the story).

If it does, I’ll probably hear about it. That’s how it goes when you write about people you know.

For instance, Sabine’s home game announcer, Keith Wilkerson, is the music minister at my church. The old coach, Lonnie Fenton, was a bus driver who once took a wrong turn and got my art class hopelessly lost on a field trip to Dallas.

The people of Liberty City continue to support the Cardinals. They are excited about the new coach, and they hope a drop to Class 2A will help the team’s chances. This year, though, has been for rebuilding.

At the game against New Diana, my first in seven years, a family friend stopped by to say hello. He nodded to the sad score on the scoreboard.

“Bring back memories?” he asked.

We just laughed.

Sure.