The Port Arthur Package

Introduction • Chapter 1 • Chapter 1-Page 2 • Chapter 1-Page 3 • Chapter 2 • Chapter 2-Page 2 • Chapter 2- Page 3 • Junior Year • Junior Year-Page 2 • Junior Year-Page 3 • Junior Year-Page 4 • Head Hunters • Black Friday • We Beat Beaumont • Sweethearts • Wrapper Page 1 • Wrapper Page 2

Black Friday - Homecoming

October 8,1965 - Nederland 14 - PA 0

A couple of times a year I sit up in bed in a cold sweat, heart pounding, out of breath. We all have a reoccurring nightmare that won't go away. I earned mine that night 45 years ago.

It starts out in the film room Saturday morning, the day after the game between the Nederland Bulldogs and the Port Arthur Yellow Jackets, homecoming 1965. The school had been alive all week with positive vibes, rallies, singing and carrying on. While we watched the game films grading our efforts from the night before, I thought about the thunderous pep-rally held for our benefit, Friday afternoon. The coaches had their players grouped around them listening to comments and critiques about each play, and each individual players performance. As the projector clattered along in forward , then in reverse, to run the play again, it was easy to let one's mind wander, to the game , the excitement at school all week, the dance, the exhaustion.

A noticeable silence came over the room as I looked up at the screen and saw my nightmare unfolding again. It all happened in a matter of seconds-there was a simple "look-in" pass play to Nederland's weak side wide receiver, a fellow named Frazier. As he took the pass in, Larry Pace nailed the guy for what was an apparent short gain. I had already started that way from middle linebacker, in normal pursuit. Frazier broke the tackle and took off. I chose an angle designed to catch up with him before he could score. There seemed to be nobody else around. From his 37 yard line I pursued this ball carrier, gaining ground. Our paths seemed to intersect around the 20 yard line. As I came close it seemed I was too far from him to tackle him and continued to pursue. I wanted to jump in a last ditch effort but that seemed unlikely too. As he crossed the goal line just ahead of me, a team mate put a hand on my shoulder and whispered, "damn Freddie, you had him- you could have taken him out." He squeezed my shoulder in a sympathetic way and then said out loud "good try Schneider -good hustle."

We replayed that play about 40 times that day looking at every possible angle and where everybody else was during the play, trying to be analytical. I've replayed it thousands of times since, in my mind. I graded 92% for that game, the best I ever played, but it appears that I did have a shot at Frazier and just didn't realize it. 63 yards in about 8 seconds lasts a lifetime.

In the car after the game, some Nederland fans got my goat and I shouted an obscenity at them, one I usually didn't use in front of my sweetheart. She jerked and gasped a deep breath, and then gave me a comforting hug and told me to "cool off". We went to the dance but here was no real joy that night. Tears in the shower after the game is allowed.