Ben E Lou
12-04-2004, 07:12 AM
http://www.ajc.com/news/content/metro/gwinnett/1204/04venable.html
'Thank God I went home'
Last January, Billy Venable, offensive line coach at Tucker High School, and his son Bill, a lineman on the team, were shot and killed during a home invasion in their Lilburn residence. Stephen Venable, the oldest son, recounts a happier time — his family's thrilling run during last year's high school football playoffs.
<!--endclickprintinclude--><table align="left" border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0" width="175"><tbody><tr><td>http://img.coxnewsweb.com/B/09/15/83/image_1183159.jpg (http://www.ajc.com/news/content/metro/gwinnett/1204/42367690_venable.html)
(ENLARGE) (http://www.ajc.com/news/content/metro/gwinnett/1204/42367690_venable.html)
</td></tr><tr><td class="caption">Stephen Venable is an attorney who lives in Los Angeles.
</td></tr><tr><td>http://img.coxnewsweb.com/B/01/16/83/image_1183161.jpg (http://www.ajc.com/news/content/metro/gwinnett/1204/Venable_family_photo.html)
(ENLARGE) (http://www.ajc.com/news/content/metro/gwinnett/1204/Venable_family_photo.html)
</td></tr><tr><td class="caption">The Venable family: Tucker High School offensive line coach Billy Venable, his wife Susan, son Bill, and daughter Amy.
</td></tr></tbody></table><!--startclickprintinclude--> The call I'd been waiting for came while I was home in Los Angeles, watching a college football game on television and simultaneously checking the Internet for updates on the Tucker Tigers' [2003] playoff game against Troup County.
"Stephen, we're going to the Dome!" my dad shouted into the phone. I could hear the cheers of a victorious locker room in the background. I'd never heard my dad so animated. But what he seemed most excited about was the play of my younger brother, Bill.
"Bill played the whole second half. He played great! You coming to the Dome?" That last part wasn't really a question.
Of course I'll be there, I told him.
Bill was the baby of the family, and he relished the role. In the youth leagues, he was a bit heavy and slow. He probably had more fun than anyone on his football, baseball and basketball teams, but he was never a standout athlete. He started high school at Parkview, less than a mile from our house, but in his first year he saw that he might have trouble making it in that powerhouse program. So, he transferred to Tucker, where Dad taught and coached.
Dad took Bill to school with him each morning, and they worked out together in the weight room. Bill used the coaches' office as his football locker, and he'd often stop by there several times during the school day. Dad, in turn, would sometimes pop into the back of Bill's classes. They each complained, facetiously, that the other wouldn't leave him alone.
The previous season had ended with Tucker falling one win short of playing in the Georgia Dome in the state AAAA semifinals. My dad often told me that one of his goals was for Bill to experience the big-time atmosphere at the Dome.
By the next year, all the work seemed to be paying off. Bill wasn't going to be a big-time college player, but he had developed into a reliable reserve offensive lineman.
A few days after getting that call from my dad, I left a Christmas party to catch a red-eye flight to Atlanta. I remember the women at the party being astounded that I was flying across the country for a high school football game. The guys understood.
My dad picked me up at the airport that morning, and we stopped at the Dome to pick up tickets for the family. Bill was busy taking a college entrance exam; Dad thought concentrating on the test would help keep Bill from getting too nervous about the game.
I took a nap at home that afternoon, and was rudely awakened when Bill flopped on my bed. I growled at him, but we wound up playing a football video game together, before it was time to leave for the game.
As I walked into the coaches' office at Tucker, my dad tossed a coach's shirt at me. "If you're going to be with us on the field, you're going to look like us, too," he said.
The pregame atmosphere in the team locker room was tense, but not too tense to keep Bill from slipping out for a run to a nearby Burger King. He didn't like the team meal.
For the trip to the Dome, I rode one of the team buses with Dad. He got out early, and as the players passed, he told them, "Keep your heads up, guys. You've had a great season."
My dad left one of the pregame meetings and got me to walk with him around the playing field. "Wow! Pretty amazing!" he said.
After the warmups and the pregame pep talks, it was time to take the field. My dad and I were a few steps behind Bill, when the team started its charge through the Tucker Tigers sign and onto the floor of the Dome.
The first half of the game was a real battle. Tucker's opponent, Statesboro, built a 14-7 lead, but near the end of the half, Tucker was driving for a tying score, only to lose a fumble in Statesboro's end zone.
Everyone was frustrated at halftime. Dad thought we at least should have tied the game, but he was also bothered that he hadn't been able to get Bill into the game on offense. "I've got to get Bill in there next half," he said to me on the way to the coaches' meeting.
Tucker rallied in the second half and forced the game into overtime. On their first possession, the Tigers scored a field goal, but Statesboro did better on their turn. They scored a touchdown, and the game was suddenly over. Statesboro 27, Tucker 24.
I looked for my dad, and we made the sad walk back to the locker room together. He said he was most worried about Bill. He hadn't put Bill into the game on offense. Bill's only action in the Dome was a few special-teams plays.
"I can handle losing, but I can't stand breaking my son's heart," Dad said.
When I found Bill in the locker room, he was dejected, like everyone else.
I told Bill that Dad thought Bill was mad with him for not putting him into the game.
"I'm not mad at Dad," he said, through his tears. "I wanted to win. I'm mad we lost."
The bus trip back to Tucker was almost totally silent. The family and fans had gathered to form a gauntlet for the senior players to pass through, and to receive their last round of applause as Tucker Tigers.
Dad was collecting the players' gear in the equipment room, when Bill came into the coaches' room were I was. He dropped his pads to the floor and said, "Let's go get something to eat."
I told him to first go to talk with Dad. I grabbed his padding and went with him to the equipment room. As he gave the gear to Dad, Bill asked him to come to the restaurant.
Dad grabbed Bill in a hug. "I'm so sorry, Buddy," he said.
"It's OK, Dad," Bill told him. "It's OK."
The night ended with a father and two sons talking football as they shared a meal. We talked about how great it was to be in the playoffs and play in the Dome. Despite the loss and disappointment, we couldn't have been happier.
One month later I got another call from home, one with the worst news I've ever received. After the first shock, I thought, thank God I went home for that final weekend in the playoffs.
This season, Tucker again faced Statesboro in the state semifinal playoff game in the Dome. Statesboro scored a last-second field goal to win by one point.
'Thank God I went home'
Last January, Billy Venable, offensive line coach at Tucker High School, and his son Bill, a lineman on the team, were shot and killed during a home invasion in their Lilburn residence. Stephen Venable, the oldest son, recounts a happier time — his family's thrilling run during last year's high school football playoffs.
<!--endclickprintinclude--><table align="left" border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0" width="175"><tbody><tr><td>http://img.coxnewsweb.com/B/09/15/83/image_1183159.jpg (http://www.ajc.com/news/content/metro/gwinnett/1204/42367690_venable.html)
(ENLARGE) (http://www.ajc.com/news/content/metro/gwinnett/1204/42367690_venable.html)
</td></tr><tr><td class="caption">Stephen Venable is an attorney who lives in Los Angeles.
</td></tr><tr><td>http://img.coxnewsweb.com/B/01/16/83/image_1183161.jpg (http://www.ajc.com/news/content/metro/gwinnett/1204/Venable_family_photo.html)
(ENLARGE) (http://www.ajc.com/news/content/metro/gwinnett/1204/Venable_family_photo.html)
</td></tr><tr><td class="caption">The Venable family: Tucker High School offensive line coach Billy Venable, his wife Susan, son Bill, and daughter Amy.
</td></tr></tbody></table><!--startclickprintinclude--> The call I'd been waiting for came while I was home in Los Angeles, watching a college football game on television and simultaneously checking the Internet for updates on the Tucker Tigers' [2003] playoff game against Troup County.
"Stephen, we're going to the Dome!" my dad shouted into the phone. I could hear the cheers of a victorious locker room in the background. I'd never heard my dad so animated. But what he seemed most excited about was the play of my younger brother, Bill.
"Bill played the whole second half. He played great! You coming to the Dome?" That last part wasn't really a question.
Of course I'll be there, I told him.
Bill was the baby of the family, and he relished the role. In the youth leagues, he was a bit heavy and slow. He probably had more fun than anyone on his football, baseball and basketball teams, but he was never a standout athlete. He started high school at Parkview, less than a mile from our house, but in his first year he saw that he might have trouble making it in that powerhouse program. So, he transferred to Tucker, where Dad taught and coached.
Dad took Bill to school with him each morning, and they worked out together in the weight room. Bill used the coaches' office as his football locker, and he'd often stop by there several times during the school day. Dad, in turn, would sometimes pop into the back of Bill's classes. They each complained, facetiously, that the other wouldn't leave him alone.
The previous season had ended with Tucker falling one win short of playing in the Georgia Dome in the state AAAA semifinals. My dad often told me that one of his goals was for Bill to experience the big-time atmosphere at the Dome.
By the next year, all the work seemed to be paying off. Bill wasn't going to be a big-time college player, but he had developed into a reliable reserve offensive lineman.
A few days after getting that call from my dad, I left a Christmas party to catch a red-eye flight to Atlanta. I remember the women at the party being astounded that I was flying across the country for a high school football game. The guys understood.
My dad picked me up at the airport that morning, and we stopped at the Dome to pick up tickets for the family. Bill was busy taking a college entrance exam; Dad thought concentrating on the test would help keep Bill from getting too nervous about the game.
I took a nap at home that afternoon, and was rudely awakened when Bill flopped on my bed. I growled at him, but we wound up playing a football video game together, before it was time to leave for the game.
As I walked into the coaches' office at Tucker, my dad tossed a coach's shirt at me. "If you're going to be with us on the field, you're going to look like us, too," he said.
The pregame atmosphere in the team locker room was tense, but not too tense to keep Bill from slipping out for a run to a nearby Burger King. He didn't like the team meal.
For the trip to the Dome, I rode one of the team buses with Dad. He got out early, and as the players passed, he told them, "Keep your heads up, guys. You've had a great season."
My dad left one of the pregame meetings and got me to walk with him around the playing field. "Wow! Pretty amazing!" he said.
After the warmups and the pregame pep talks, it was time to take the field. My dad and I were a few steps behind Bill, when the team started its charge through the Tucker Tigers sign and onto the floor of the Dome.
The first half of the game was a real battle. Tucker's opponent, Statesboro, built a 14-7 lead, but near the end of the half, Tucker was driving for a tying score, only to lose a fumble in Statesboro's end zone.
Everyone was frustrated at halftime. Dad thought we at least should have tied the game, but he was also bothered that he hadn't been able to get Bill into the game on offense. "I've got to get Bill in there next half," he said to me on the way to the coaches' meeting.
Tucker rallied in the second half and forced the game into overtime. On their first possession, the Tigers scored a field goal, but Statesboro did better on their turn. They scored a touchdown, and the game was suddenly over. Statesboro 27, Tucker 24.
I looked for my dad, and we made the sad walk back to the locker room together. He said he was most worried about Bill. He hadn't put Bill into the game on offense. Bill's only action in the Dome was a few special-teams plays.
"I can handle losing, but I can't stand breaking my son's heart," Dad said.
When I found Bill in the locker room, he was dejected, like everyone else.
I told Bill that Dad thought Bill was mad with him for not putting him into the game.
"I'm not mad at Dad," he said, through his tears. "I wanted to win. I'm mad we lost."
The bus trip back to Tucker was almost totally silent. The family and fans had gathered to form a gauntlet for the senior players to pass through, and to receive their last round of applause as Tucker Tigers.
Dad was collecting the players' gear in the equipment room, when Bill came into the coaches' room were I was. He dropped his pads to the floor and said, "Let's go get something to eat."
I told him to first go to talk with Dad. I grabbed his padding and went with him to the equipment room. As he gave the gear to Dad, Bill asked him to come to the restaurant.
Dad grabbed Bill in a hug. "I'm so sorry, Buddy," he said.
"It's OK, Dad," Bill told him. "It's OK."
The night ended with a father and two sons talking football as they shared a meal. We talked about how great it was to be in the playoffs and play in the Dome. Despite the loss and disappointment, we couldn't have been happier.
One month later I got another call from home, one with the worst news I've ever received. After the first shock, I thought, thank God I went home for that final weekend in the playoffs.
This season, Tucker again faced Statesboro in the state semifinal playoff game in the Dome. Statesboro scored a last-second field goal to win by one point.