Grass fires and Dust Bowl conditions.

From Facebook, I am reading about the dry conditions, high winds, and grass fires that are causing loss of property (hopefully NOT life).

I will suspend posting my thoughts from here until I get news that the Dust Bowl conditions and fires are not as problematic. I hope that, as I write this, the conditions have already improved.

Oklahoma weather has always been a major issue with the residents brave enough to endure it. I will share the next post on Facebook (U Bahn-venture) when that unpredictable force of nature is more hospitable.

My prayers and thoughts are with you during this time of struggle.

Thoughts on Football and the Rangers

I thought I would put into writing, my thoughts about our team, our goals, and my contribution to them. But first, wait for it, ...........

Schnitzel Consumption Count: 7

This is Sunday and I have not found an English speaking congregation with which to worship yet. I have made contact with a former Altusan living here, but their service is entirely in German. I miss the congregation of the Elm and Hudson church of Christ and although I will never be described as the most faithful of attenders of services, I do feel the weakening one experiences when not in attendance. My daily prayer is for strength, courage, and wisdom. If any readers care to contribute their prayers to our Heavenly Father for me and my family, they are coveted and will be appreciated.

This is also the beginning of "game week" We are scrimmaging the Graz Giants of the AFL (the highest division of Austrian football). They have a good solid team, a talented import group including Qb, TE, and a pair of D-ends. They will give us an idea of where we are and want to be.

Ok. Now for the aforementioned ramblings.

I came here to bring my knowledge of American Football to a team that was interested what I could contribute from 32 years coaching it combined with 15 years playing it. I do not profess to be the best, or know the most. What I WILL promise, is that when I am coaching you, you, and your improvement, is my sole focus. You are my client and without you, I have no income for what I consider, not working at all. This is more than a job. I can't describe it, but people that I know dread going to their jobs. I still get butterflies in my stomach (not unlike the ones experienced before first date, an important test, or a big game) before a practice and worry that I will not perform to the best possible standard. I will impart what I know and strive to keep learning and improving as a coach.

If we win every game 100 to 0 and do not improve in our knowledge and play of American Football, then I see it as a negative. If we want to compete at the highest levels of Austrian Football, we must raise every rep, every practice, every game to the next level.

I have been concentrating on our Defensive line. Johnathan has done an amazing job with the secondary and the pass defense aspect of the linebacker's job. Although his groundwork was exceptional, it is virtually impossible to coach all 11 players. When I arrived, I discerned that the linebackers were pretty much studs that could "learn on the fly" and the secondary was solidly in the hands of Johnathan. This leaves the D-line to me.

From my first practice, I see that the D-line is a little undersized in comparison to the O-line behemoths that we will face. However, that's not an insurmountable problem. Give me desire, unselfishness, and discipline and we will succeed. They are familiar with the concepts of our defense in which "gap control" is key (as opposed to the penetrating type that is praised so highly by the tv announcers in the D-1 and NFL games). The difference in the NFL and our level is that the Pros can both penetrate AND control their gaps. There is an tiny fraction of the world's populace that can fulfill what NFL Defensive lineman can do. Therefore, we control our gaps. If we happen to be fortunate enough to get a gifted one of these special "beasts", they can be icing for our defensive "cake".

I will speak in generalities as the players may not want their names used. Also, the process of improvement dictates that we can ALL improve everyday. I don't want to lead the reader to believe that just because someone does not play a certain technique properly today, that he never will, or that somehow, this makes him less of a player.

Our players really want to be successful. Any perceived failure (even the smallest ones) in technique is a big deal to them. Usually, when I remind them of something I see that they could do better, they already are "kicking" themselves because they already know it. The key to success in this (as everything else) is repetition of correct technique. Just like a musician improves with practice, a player improves with repetitions in practice. We have limited time in which to get these precious reps, so practice attendance is valuable. Our success will be partly to their ability and to a larger extent, to their practice habits. Our D-line will contribute mightily to our success with diligent practice habits combined with their God-given ability.

I may have already alluded to the fact that they are very respectful of titles. A coach holds respect because he is the coach. I told one of our linebackers that I was used to coaching WITH guys his age, not coaching them. And even this 20 year veteran defers to my coaching. In fact, he even coaches from his position on the field. He will stop and translate what I am saying into forceful reminders. I don't understand the words but recognize a "butt chewing" in any language. And when this guy chews on a player's butt, they listen. He enforces the practice tempo and when things begin to lag, he barks some German "reminders". I may know a few German curse words and I definitely recognize some English ones. He plays with a "hot motor" and has explosive fast twitch muscle quickness. This translates into some EXCEPTIONAL hits. I can't wait for them to be directed toward our opponents. By example, he is raising the level of play of his teammates. The other linebackers are already improving on their game (which is pretty darn good already). This defense is designed for the linebackers to make the plays. This corp of linebackers is the type that will make them.

The secondary has some of the most savvy and game-wise players. Some of the team's best hitters roam the defensive backfield and encroaching ball carriers and would-be receivers had better prepare for some un-friendly contact when they visit. Our defense dictates that we "wall-off" receivers and deny them the chance to run their routes unimpeded. Offenses depend on timing and precision for their passing game. We intend to put your receivers on the ground (or at least destroy the timing) before the pass is thrown or the route is complete. Also, we have just begun to add the blitzes and already, I see that this will add to our arsenal.

You will the following phrase repeated continually:

Get off blocks; make plays (every offense draws plays in which they block you; you must beat the block and TACKLE)

Speaking of getting off, the owners of our "Villa" have arrived to see how we are doing. I will get off my coaching "pulpit" for now and close in order to talk to them. Flo "Assante" Seidl has offered to take me on a sight-seeing tour this week. I plan to report on that experience shortly after.

Go Rangers!

We Go to Vapiano!

Tomorrow marks week number two in which I have lived a dream life in a dream country.

Schnitzel is a source of Austrian pride. I can see why. I would rival our good ol' Oklahoma Chicken Fried Steak. The concept is to take a cut of meat that is NOT so tender, smash it a little to tenderize it, dip it in eggs and milk, and DEEP FRY it!!!

Here is the Food History.com's description

What is Wiener Schnitzel 
Wienerschnitzel is a thin crumbed slice of veal (usually 3 to 6 ounces) fried in oil and served with lemon, and often ligonberry jam and Erdapfel potato salad (German Potato Salad) Pomme Frits (French Fries) or boiled potatoes with parsley and butter. 

Sometimes gold dust was added to the crumb mixture to give it an even better golden brown color.

What does the word Wiener Schnitzel come from?

It basically means schnitzel in the style of Vienna, (Wiener) Austria.
In Austria, the term Wiener Schnitzel is protected by law, and any schnitzel called by that name has to be made from veal.


When was the first Wiener Schnitzel made? 

"Wiener Schnitzel and its Italian counterpart, Cotoletta Milanese, involved two Hapsburg domains in a culinary quarrel. Both branches of the family, Austrian and Italian, claimed credit for the invention of the dish, the latter branch tracing their claim all the way back to a banquet given in 1134 for the canon of Milan's St. Ambrogio Cathedral."
---Horizon Cookbook and Illustrated History of Eating and Drinking Through the Ages, William Harlan Hale [American Heritage:New York] 1968 (p. 516)

Now, the Schnitzel is made from pork, beef, and Johnathan's favorite, a cordon bleu schnitzel. This seems to be an unnatural combining of cultures and therefore, I stick to the traditional Schnitzel mit Pommes Frits.

We ate at a national landmark (like our McDonald's, a little) Der Schnitzel Haus. The menu contained various styles of schnitzel and the side dishes. Of course, I have to depend on the pictures and the few German words I have learned. The process requires them to cook it when ordered though. (Waiting is a Viennese "pastime" also) When served, a culinary wonder occurs. This transcends continents and reminds me of a combination of the aforementioned Chicken Fried steak AND Fried Catfish. Wunderbar! Stack that sucker onto a stack of fries,and ya'll got a meal fit for an Okie in Austria.

I have decided to begin an Official Schnitzel Consumption Counter.

Today the SCC is at 6 Schitzels.

A little low for two weeks, I know (especially since there is a small street vendor called Schnitzel Hertzendorf just 6 blocks from our house). I will catch up by visiting all the recommended places our players have suggested. Here is what I have learned. I an Austrian suggests something to eat. Order it. It WILL be good. Don't try to do it yourself. Take their suggestion. (This does NOT include any blood sausage for this boy though)

Today, our defensive captain, Fritz Limbeck, took us to Vapiano. Fritz transported us through crowded, (with traffic and pedestrians)narrow streets at a speed and style in which I was a little uncomfortable. Especially when we went into the oncoming lane of traffic to beat a line of cars so he could take a corner in a hurry. (This doesn't compare to a guy that I witnessed pull his car into oncoming traffic, make a U turn, and parallel his small car. All in less than the time it took to write this).

You always have to search frantically for a parking place and plan on walking a while when you find one. Discovering the elusive parking place, we enter this bustling Italian restaurant. Upon entering, you are given a card with which you swipe when you receive your order. When you leave, you swipe the card again and pay the amount. If you lose your card, 50 euros is the standard amount to get out of the place. The menu is on a large chalk board above about 8 cooking stations in which patrons wait while the cook prepares their order. Seating is then largely a matter of luck. Stools that face long bars are the norm. You may or may not sit alone with your party. Steam and smoke rise above the cook stations while people chat. It is a cacophony of the combination of noise from the kitchen, the clientele, and the sounds of people enjoying or anticipating a good meal..

Don't go into an Austrian eating establishment in a hurry. (Not even McDonalds). We get lucky and a cook opens a new line near ours, we jump lines and in no time are watching our spaghetti Bolognese with sausage, rosemary, peppers, and grated cheese from Parma, Italy being produced. The cook is fluent in English and changes back and forth from German as she is cooking Fritz’s, as well as mine at the same time. We receive the amazing looking dish, and navigate our trays through the crowd to where Johnathan has commandeered a spot for the three of us. The desire to speak departs from me as a glimpse of pasta-lined heaven appears on my palette. Oh great, another good place to eat. Just what every “man-sized” person wants to discover.

Following the main course, we are enticed to the desert bar. I order cheesecake. Can you believe it? It also tasted good. We sit at a small table in large, red leather chairs to consume our desert. Then I lean back in the chair the way one does when finishing a memorable meal.

We return to the Villa. Finalizing practice plans, we load into Coach’s van and drive to Modling. Two and a half hours in a balmy 23 degree night practice later, we are back at the Villa, where Coach Manny Auzinger (O-line coach and techno guru) installs a cube that uses the newest portable cell phone technology to acquire wireless internet signal. It is called a webcube. No cable, no satellite dish, no phone line. Pay a flat rate and connect up to 5 wireless computers to it. Gotta’ get me one of these in the states. Bye-bye overpriced land line internet.

I build a fire and sit in the dark gazing into the flames. I have portrayed some of the sights, sounds, and tastes, I have encountered. But at times like these, in the flickering dance of the flames, I miss Susan. I always do, but activity such as a trip into the center of an amazing city makes for a great diversion. Now it is quiet and I am alone with memories and the gnawing realization that I am experiencing this without my “besten fruenden”. Talking on the phone is a poor substitute and I am proud of how she has lived with her decision to remain to teach her students.

I miss all my family, students , city, and team. Thirty-two years of memories don’t fade with 2 weeks in even a wonderful locale as this.

Tomorrow, an interview and more adventure.

Ciao.

Pads and Cold

Because the team's helmets were being painted by a local business, we have been forced to practice with out headgear. This has been acceptable because of the learning that can occur. That said, it is hard to play football without the most important piece of protective equipment. After a few practices without pads, the players (along with myself) were ready for some real football. Tonight the helmets arrived, painted black. The players reassembled their headgear with screwdrivers brought from home. Before long, everyone looked like a football player.

Practice was spirited and there was no shortage of hitting. It doesn't seem to me that there any "non-hitter" on our team. The Defensive line progressed through tackling drills and block recognition. The linebackers and secondary drilled tip drill and coverage drills. Soon the inside drill that pits the Offensive and Defensive Lines erupted in a fight. It is not uncommon, on the first day of pads for competitive athletes to arrive at a difference of opinion about what is and isn't a legal block. Austria is no different. After the coach stopped short of ejecting the transgressors, ran them a little, and they made up, practice was back on in full swing.

All in all, it was a good day first day of pads.

Except for one small problem. The temperature tonight during practice was 9 degrees fahrenheit.

NINE degees.

At nine degrees, the cold radiates up through the hard turf and into the bottoms of your feet. It crawls up your ankles and lodges in your knees. The ball becomes a cement block to try to catch. Kicking is not a pleasant thought. If you wear glasses, your breath steams them up at times. But hey, I knew what I thought I was getting into when I signed on. Austria is roughly the latitude of Northern Minnesota.

It can be a little hard to concentrate when the mercury dives that low. Upon arrival back at home, I built a roaring fire in the first floor wood stove. In no time at all, the dancing flames entombed behind the glass door were emitting heat. Time to watch the film of practice to evaluate the players' areas in which to improve. Afterwards, I am still cold. Time for another log for the fire.

We will talk later, ok?

Naschmarkt and Flak Towers

In the historic first district in Vienna, stretches an open air market called the Naschmarkt. Roughly translated "nasch" would best be described as how one would pick and chose food from an all you can eat buffet. It is a walkway that forms a narrow corridor for a number of blocks. Various vendors line the median of a downtown street. Although the market is described as open air, the vendors are protected from the elements by small booths that sometimes have small counters or have awnings that extend over the various wares of the merchants.

Tiny restaurants selling ethnic foods ranging from local favorites to Vietnamese cooking are spread in unpredictable intervals. Crammed into other spaces are bakeries, cheese stores, and butchers. Fish stare blankly from their glass showcases. Huge shrimp, octopi, and swordfish steaks are available. Various cuts of beef, lamb, and pork are visible. Earlier today, I saw a truck in full view in FRONT of a shop, workers in bloody aprons unloaded pork carcasses (with heads and feet still attached), stretching them across the top of a common shopping cart for transport into the butcher shop.

We stopped at a small street vendor where Johnathan ordered a small loaf of bread (similar the loaves available before the meal at Outback or BackDoor Steakhouses). There was a tube-like tunnel cut out, allowing ketchup, mustard, or a combination to be squirted into. Followed by a thick, grilled frankfurter. This formed a portable meal similar in appearance to an oversized hot dog. I got a bratwurst and a burenwurst, each served in small bites, on a plate; with mustard on the side. Our Head Coach (an Austrian and Vienna resident) ordered a sandwich which was thick, lightly colored meat on a large, substantial roll. He offered me a bite. It was somewhat bland but it was tender and juicy. He and Johnathan had already informed me that it was horse meat. I have lots of other dishes to try now, and don't need any more horse meat for a while. I will say this, it did NOT taste like chicken.

We entered Kaseland (Cheeseland) where we purchased bri and cheddar. Samples of the foods abound at each "shop" and we sampled things I had never thought I would try. We continued our shopping trek and Johnathan bought huge olives stuffed with cheese. I bought something called Falafels, which I would describe as a spicy version of a Mediterranean Sea hush puppy. It was better when spread with hummus. I bought sauerkraut, (extracted with a scoop from a huge barrel) and sampled a large dill pickle from a neighboring barrel (retrieved from the brine and presented to me with a bare hand). Johnathan bought a tiny cup of coffee and I was tempted by a bakery with Apfel Strudel, rolls, sweets, breads, etc.

We wound up our stroll by purchasing a gift for Susan. I will NOT divulge the "identity" of the gift except to say that it is NOT a raw fish, horse sandwich, or squid tentacle.

So many sights to which I am unaccustomed surrounded me and I could spend many hours in this teaming gauntlet of bustling small business and not a few attempting to describing them. One harsh fact hit me at the end of the shopping diversion. Money seems to fall out of one's pocket at an alarming rate while visiting the Naschmarkt.

As we drove through the narrow steets, a huge structure appeared, looming menacingly before us. Fully 16 stories high and a block in breadth and length, it bore a large banner that read "Smashed into pieces; in the middle of the night". It seems that these structures (Flak Towers) were WWII anti-aircraft structures and self-contained fortresses complete with fearsome weaponry, water, air, communications and 3 meter thick, reinforced concrete walls. That's why they still exist. Although the sign proclaims "smashed into pieces" this is hardly the case. There is essentially no way to demolish these fortresses. In post-war years, these six behemoths have been transformed into climbing walls, art galleries, sunbathing decks, aquariums, a restaurant called the "Skyspace bar", and the most interesting (to me), museums. The following is an excerpt I found describing the museums.

Museum of Medieval Legal History and the History of Torture (Museum

für Mittelalterliche Rechtsgeschichte: Die Geschichte der Folter).

It is strange, however, that given the close proximity of the Flak tower the

Nazis are given little more than cursory mention in the collection.

There seems to be a local, cultural "amnesia" concerning it's history entwined with the Nazis. Older Viennese citizens probably remember taking shelter from Allied bombing raids but younger residents ignore the towering muted voice from the past. Local tours seem to ignore the unmistakable reminders of the association with the Third Rcich. These fascinate me and I am not finished exploring these. I will try to remember my camera in future forrays.

Time to close for now.

Ol

Cold, Hard, Reality

Today, the sun came out. No, really. I had seen only overcast, cloudy skies for the entire nine days of my stay here. Today the sun actually came out and shined. That’s the good news. The bad news is that the clear skies allowed the earth’s heat to escape and tonight, at practice it was -6 degrees Celsius (17 degrees Fahrenheit). I discovered a blocking/tackling sled with which I was interested in using in some drills. When I went to move it, I discovered that it was frozen solidly to the ground. Guess I will wait till spring to work with that! I went to hurriedly retrieve a practice schedule that was dropped in a small pool of water near the practice field. It never got wet. The water was, of course, frozen solid. The practice schedule was not in danger of getting wet for a while, I’m guessing. The cold, hard reality of this place it that it is collllddddd.

I found a branch bank of Bank of Austria this morning. I went in and asked if I could exchange American dollars (which no one wants here) for Euros. As the answer was to the affirmative, I produced $150, the amount of Euros I received in return (including the fee of $5) was 104 Euros. Thanks for the strong dollar, America. (Sarcasm marks here) This will be remedied when I send Euros to America for exchange (which is about 1 Euro to $1.38 American). Should I thank the Republicans for holding up the recovery and shaking the confidence in the American Dollar? It was $1.28 last week.

After practice, we drove to that most famous of European dining experiences: McDonald’s! The menu is in American but the cashier is speaking German to me! I revert to caveman-ese and point and grunt. Mission accomplished. Double Quarter pounder with cheese, fries, Coke Light (which is Austrian for Diet Coke) and 6 Chicken McNuggets (hey, I have to keep SOME bodyfat on me to survive the cold). Thanks Ray Kroc.

We return home through the cold night and build a fire in the wood burning furnace on the first floor. Soon heat is spiraling upward into the upper two floors. The Austrians can heat a house. They can also insulate one and they KNOW windows. Double panes with a crank to close a cover down over them.

What they DON’T know is garbage disposals. I don’t know that anyone with which I have spoken even knows of one. There are recycling bins everywhere and numerous street cleaners scour the streets for litter.

Tomorrow we venture to open an Austrian bank account. I hope I keep a positive balance in this one. Heaven knows the American ones are more RED than white or blue (or black). The team was kind enough to provide us with a phone, but I miss my Galaxy S Android! I need citizenship to acquire a contract.

That’s right I’m and foreign national. In less than 81 days, I will be illegal! I don’t know the language, I don’t pay taxes, I barely know the different denominations of their money, and I do a job that no Austrian is willing to do! I don’t know their customs, I don’t recognize their foods, and I can’t understand Marge Simpson when she sprechen sie Deutsche! You better believe that if my child was school age, I would expect the teacher here to educate him in a professional manner. Better watch out, they may build a fence to keep my kind out of their land.

But they don’t mind me so much. It’s the Turks that are their southern immigration problem. Now, with the upheaval in the Middle East and Northern Africa, European nations are seeing an increase of refugees. The Turks tried to invade and control Austria twice in history. In the Battle of Vienna, the Turks were denied. Twice. Thus insuring that Europe would NOT become Islamic. This battle was BEFORE Columbus sailed to America. Therefore, your (and my) European ancestors came with non-Islamic religious beliefs. Important to American history, this city on the Danube? Yep, I think so. Oh, and the coffee the Turks left in their hasty retreat? That became a pretty important part of Viennese life.

I feel myself rambling. Guess I will close for now.

Pictures Not Included on Facebook

From Top: Stairway entrance leading from first floor. Security gate; view from our front door. Bar in 2nd floor Coaches office. Our street. The gasse (lane) on which we live

A Trip to the Mall

One of the largest shopping centers in Europe is called SCS (Shopping Center Sud). 330 shops inhabit the huge expanse of Viennese commerce. Of that number, McDonalds and Cinnabon were the only ones that looked familiar. Although I am not a big mall visitor, I had a particular curiosity about how this one would be different and how it would be the same as the ones in the states.

In the parking lot, it is no different than Penn Square or the like. Cars jockey for the prize of the place to park. Smokers huddle just outside the doors in a temporary, legislated exile. The lot is full today and one of my companions tells me that it is because it is Saturday. On Sundays, everything is closed. No typo. An vast majority of the businesses of an entire nation observes a day of rest. They hey may not all go to church, but they don’t open on Sunday. I remember when businesses in the States did that, but it’s been a long time.

Upon entrance, the same scene unfolds; crowds people carrying bags of temporarily treasured merchandise. (However, the bags in which the items are carried are NOT free with purchase. If you want a bag, bring one or buy the ones at the counter).

I enter the stream of shoppers and weave in and out of the paths of a crowd that would look similar in any modern American mall, until….wait is that a dog? My belief system has to readjust. There is a non-service dog. Just walking on leash with his master. During the two-plus hour experience, I saw approximately a dozen different dogs of varying sizes and breeds. No English Bulldogs though. I never saw one doing anything but walking calmly. I was informed that unruly dogs are not tolerated, so I guess that only “top dawgs” get to go to the mall.

I picked out a cheap wallet with divider for my euros on one side and the American currency (which no store will accept) on the other, and a coin container as part of the configuration. Since no notes smaller than a five euro note exist, one’s change can fill a pocket pretty quickly. News flash! Credit cards are rarely used. People usually pay in cash. People may have cards, but it is usually to go to one of the numerous ATMs and withdraw bills with which to pay.

Prices are higher than the ones for similar items in America. However, the price listed in euros is the price. Tax has already been added in. No extra 8% punch after the sale is rung up. But don’t’ forget that the euro is worth approximately $1.35, so when you see a ten euro price tag, it is really $11.35 (ish) One thing I noticed was cellular phone (handys; to Austrians) were amazingly cheap. 20 euros a month was not uncommon. Check your plan, I bet it’s a bit (sarcasm inserted) higher,

Time for the language observation of the day:

The word- muppet.

Ussage: In the spring, I love to ride on my “muppet”

Translation: Mo-ped (scooter get it?)

The accents are located in unexpected locals in German-to-English language. In German, the D is pronounced as a T at the end of many words. The greatest pronunciation observation of the trip so far is the Minnesota “W”icings and the famous American football coach “W”ince Lombardi. The W is pronounced with a V sound, remember? Of course, my attempts to speak are so horrendous, they are just sadly tragic.

The last (and biggest) surprise I will share is the surprise I got while about to wash my hands in the Men’s room following the business of answering nature’s call. Entering the MENS restroom was a female custodial worker. The place was crowded, so she didn’t just enter what she thought was a vacant room. At least a dozen men were in various stages of the ritual of the restroom. No big deal, she was doing her job. No one else even looked twice. I, on the other hand, felt:

Awkward.

We returned to the Villa (my name for our house). I took some pictures to share and if I can figure out how, I will post them.

Tchuss.

Out of the Comfort Zone!

First, let me make this perfectly clear. Do not believe that "they all speak English" when you travel abroad.

Today, I pushed a little outside my comfort zone. I walked a few blocks down the street on which we live (Nauheimergasse), and entered several shops. I actually began a conversation with a shop keeper (sprechen sie English?). He replied with a very welcome word...."yes".

Sigh of relief, back to English to ask how to buy an international stamp with which to send Susan a post care. I paid with Euros, and got my change.

"Danke"

"Bitte Shon"

"Auf wiedersein"

"Auf wiedersein"

Bravely exciting, right! Maybe not to you, but this is MY blog. :-)

Side note: There are no bills smaller than a 5 euro note. You will receive 1 and / or 2 euro coins in change. The bills and coins are different sizes increasing in size from smallest to largest. A 100 Euro note is about the size of a regular envelope and the 5 is the size of (and looks like) Monopoly money. The locals won't take US dollars and many have never seen them. The exchange rate is about $1.35 US to 1 euro.

I showed the $100 bill to some of our players. They asked why Franklin was on the largest bill when he wasn't even president and that Washington was the father of his country, the first president, and on just the one dollar bill. I had no viable answer.

But I digress.

I then walked to a grocery store called "Penny Markt" As I was struggling to understand even one label, I heard a dog barking. Inside the store somewhere. When I arrived at the check out, I see this small, scruffy dog tied onto a railing just inside the store. I assume it wasn't allowed in the store proper, but it was allowed inside the door to wait for its master to shop.

From outside a bar/restaurant, I have also observed dogs sitting in the booth with their masters. Good for dog-friendly Austria.

I returned to our house as a car was exiting our gasse (similar to a cul-de-sac; only much tighter quarters). An older gentleman waved, stopped, and hesitantly got out smiling a pensive and inquisitive smile. He extended his hand and said through the international language of gestures and speaking in one-word attempts, we established that his name was Hans. It was also established that my name was "Leeen" and that I was a futbol Amerikaner trainer. With broken English, he explained that the trash can I had set in front of our house (and directly across the narrow road/alley from his house was supposed to go out further onto the main street and that it was a day early. It was to go out to be picked up on Freitag (Friday) not Donnerstag.

My bad.

"Danke Schon"

"Bitte Schon"

We exchanged "nice to meet you" and I scurried back into the safety of my newly Americanized fortress and felt pretty darn satisfied with the first foray into a foreign (no pun intended) world.

I know this is not the gripping, investigative reporting to compare with the Fox news network or the like, but when you are in the stage where baby steps are necessary, this is the first step.

When I figure out how to post pictures, I will post them.

Danke Schon

Auf Weidersein

Field turf; Falling snow

A light feathery snow falls sporadically onto the field turf of Modling Football practice facility about 12 kilometers south of Vienna, Austria. The soccer team is finishing their practice under the lights and the American Football team known as the Kornmesser Rangers of the American football are extracting equipment from a nearby shed. They will soon be setting cones onto the soccer pitch to make some semblance of an American football surface that is marked for the football of Europe, aka Soccer in America. They carry out blocking dummies and shields recognizable on any football field in America. When the soccer team leaves, they line up and begin their stretching.

Our practice begins like most. Form tackle, individual position drills; group drills; team drills. Special teams tonight include kick off cover. At the end of the two hour and thirty minute practice, the practice field lights go off automatically. No “one more play” syndrome from an overzealous coach here. The head coach calls the players together for information, a talk from one of the players, and to break out of practice and send the players home.

These are similarities to just about every football team with which I have been associated for over 40 years. Now for the differences in my most recent experience and the other years in the states:

1. The practices are conducted in English but players and coaches alike revert to German regularly. Many times to explain a point made by an English speaking coach.

2. The practice field is field turf. It matters little that it is not marked for football

3. As mentioned earlier, the football team had to wait on the soccer team to leave.

4. I overheard the field manager explain that the football players couldn’t wear cleats on the field. Even though the soccer players have the same length cleats.

5. The locker room was SHARED by a football and a soccer team.

6. No conditioning. Players do it on their own; usually on non-practice days.

7. Practices are 7:00-9:30 on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday only. Games are on Saturday.

8. Players were mostly in their twenties, but some were in their thirties.

9. One of our players came to practice wearing his Army uniform. After practice, he returned to his duty at the base.

10.Both the practice facility AND the team’s workout gym have not only sports drinks, but also serve beer.

From a personal standpoint, I didn’t have to deal with eligibility, physicals, power of attorney, concussion forms, and training policies. No purchase orders, budget requests, transportation requests, van requests, prior travel requests, facility repair requests or classroom computer repair requests. I did not supervise the locker room before or after practice nor did I need to wait for rides to arrive or to drive anybody home.

I got to coach.

Coach players that hung on EVERY word.

That strained to do even the smallest suggestion.

Correctly.

The first time.

Then I came back to an amazing three story house in a quiet neighborhood. In the back yard, a tree taller than the third story balcony on which I now stand, towers over a back yard with a patio, pool and gardner’s shed.

There is a video surveillance camera near the entrance and a control panel with phone on every floor with which I may screen visitors while they wait outside an electric fence that I control from the control panel (one of which in near the head of my bed).

If I sound like I’m bragging, I’m not. I AM, however, unable to contain my thankfulness to God and Susan Hepner (neither of which I would be here without their approval). Now, I can’t wait to share it with the only one previously mentioned that is not here.

Hurry up, Susan!

When in Wien….

I’ve heard the old saying, “When in Rome, do as the Romans do”. So recently, I have adapted that adage to another, more northerly location. The Austrian city of Vienna is often referred to as Wien. In German (the national language of Austria), the W is pronounced as a “V”. So Wien equals Vienna. “When in Wien, do as the Wieners do”, is my new motto.

I flew for 2 hours and 45 minutes to Dulles International in Washington DC. Where I resisted an unyielding desire to buy a Barack Obama t-shirt. I then caught an Austrian Airlines flight direct to Vienna. That is when the newness of my decision to embark on this adventure became reality. The pilot, flight attendants, and most of the passengers spoke German or something other than the “American” that I spoke. Luckily, the American translation came just after the German announcement or message on the screen in the back of the seat ahead of me. It gave me a false sense of security that somehow, all the people I encountered would also be so kind as to translate the language that was about to beset me.

Wrong.

Eight hours of flying later, and behold. Street signs, bathroom signs, computer keyboards, labels in supermarkets, restaurant menus, and gasp…. The Simpsons are all in GERMAN!!! Who won the freaking war(s) anyway???? Don’t these people know that the world revolves around the USA? Why don’t they learn OUR language? By golly, I am an AMERICAN and I will just say it louder (and slower) if you don’t understand. Sorry, doesn’t work. I tried to order water to drink before my meal. (They don’t provide it) I said “Vasser bitte” (water please). Frau Waitress cocked one eyebrow and just looked at me in a skeptically amused manner. No other response. Awkward silence. My Austrian companions told her the correct pronunciation and I somehow got Coke Lite (Diet Coke). Without ice. It seems that ice will never be combined with any drink at any meal. Ever.

The city is so very historic and beautiful. Full of culture, history, and tradition. Huge palaces, opera halls, museums, churches, and sculpture dot the city landscape. Public transportation consisting of busses, trams, subways and FREE bicycles carry millions here and there. The city is virtually devoid of litter on the street and the crime rate compares with the safest in the world. No factory pollution. Dogs on leashes are very common, and their owners DO pick up the poop. There is usually a bit of wet snow feathering it’s way downward through pine and fir trees that have stood for centuries.

But the national treasure of Vienna (and the entire country of Austria) is its people. . When they meet you, they will always greet you with a respectful, warm smile and handshake. They will use any title you hold and listen politely while you stumble through a greeting. When they get to know you, they will be helpful and patient, especially when you butcher their language. To their good friends, greetings include hugs and kisses. Conversation-wise, they do not beat around the bush, if they want to know something or if they have an observation, it will be verbalized. They seem to be direct and to the point. My students may be interested to find that sarcasm does not translate well with them. (This means that 75% of my conversations are nullified!)

Then they will take you to eat. And they are very proud of their food. But there’s a reason. It is amazing. Different, but amazing. If they suggest something, try it. It’s good or they wouldn’t suggest it. Don’t worry if you cant pronounce it or recognize it. I WILL be good and it is NOT diet. Expect to have MEAT and CHEESE!!! And sweets. Don’t drink your drink too fast because there are no free refills. Did I mention no ice? Today I was introduced to the “Wheelbarrow”. A dish with fully, one pound of French fries, huge servings of a dish consisting of tiny dumplings with cheese and ham. Another similar dish without the ham. A dish consisting of butter noodles and frankfurters, two huge pork chops and two huge Wiener Schnitzels.

Don’t expect a “fast food” experience. The food will come at its own pace. Don’t expect to eat quickly and run. They dining experience is a celebration of conversation and fellowship. The waiter will finally come with a check (he won’t divide it. Pay him the full amount and figure out how to split it yourself). Tax is already added into the price in Euros and don’t worry about a tip. He is getting a real salary.

Although the locals are courteous and speak in various forms of English, they will also revert to German often. This leaves one with the opportunity to catch a fleeting recognized word as it passes quickly. But I have found that they are very patient in helping you pronounce the words. And there are sounds we Americans don’t make when speaking that 54 year olds have a hard time beginning to use. ( BTW, the keyboards to computers are a whole other blog)

Seemingly mundane daily acts are now small adventures. Go into a supermarket where everybody (but you) understands how to speak and read the labels. Try to do laundry while the instructions on the machine are in German Ride a subway with prices, schedules, and instructions in German. Watch an episode of The Nanny in German. I find myself with the vocabulary of a 3 year old in a slightly larger body (sarcasm!!!),

I have been to my first practice and have been favorably impressed with my new team. If you are still interested, I will try to be more forthcoming with my experiences.

I will close my first attempt to describe the wonderful and challenging adventure that God, my wife, and the Kornmesser Rangers have allowed me to begin.

From an Okie in Wien

auf wiedersein.

Super Bowl Sunday; Countdown to takeoff (-6 days)

It's Super Bowl Sunday; America's biggest created holiday since Thanksgiving. The sands of the football viewing year slide all too quickly through the hourglass that was the 2010 season. REAL teams are playing this year. They represent the old-school game. Cold weather. Running game. Outside football in the elements in which it was meant to be played. Hard hitting. Great defense.

In years gone by, I would have to wait till the absolute dead of the Southwest Oklahoma summer to get to witness the game of football.

Not this year.

In five days, Lord willing, I will board a plane that will take me from OKC, through Chicago and Madrid, to Vienna, Austria. I will fly for indeterminate hours (crammed into a small seat, I'm sure), and exist in the control of an airport/airline/security checkpoint/bag of peanuts world. At the end of this transcontinental rainbow, the "pot of gold" is that I get to walk out on a practice field and experience a football season only weeks (instead of months) after the last one. This is a feeling that can be rivaled by few experiences.

To explain how I look at coaching, this is my story to help the reader understand. Years ago, I was driving my son, Johnathan (about 10 or 11 years old at the time), to an Altus summer football camp. As we approached the stadium, I randomly asked him what he might want to be when he grew up. His prompt answer was "to be a coach. I retorted in mock surprise that wouldn't he want to do something that made more money? His immediate answer: "But when I was coaching, I would feel rich."

So that's it. No amount of money can purchase the feelings that come with this crazy life. I will try to put the range of emotions and feelings into words at a later date. For now, just suffice it to say that I get to feel rich sooner 50% sooner than usual.

The Kornmesser Rangers (formerly the LA Titans) are an American Football Club vying to play our way into the highest division of the Austrian Football League. Some of the best American football is played in Austria. Since the 1980s, the game of American football has been spreading to the "futbol" crazy continent of Europe. NFL Europe had a great effect on the popularity of the game and it is gaining SLOWLY on it's distant ancestor. The fact that our practice facility is on artificial turf is exciting, the fact that it is lined for soccer is current reality.

The players are Europeans (mostly citizens of the country in which the league is located). They play for the love of the game.

Only.

No pay.

They buy their own equipment. They hold jobs and are students. They serve in the Army. No signing bonuses. No re-negotiating multi-anything contracts. Practices are in the evening, after work and school. The club is part of the community and has sponsors (Kornmesser fine jewlery). There are dozens of teams and various levels of competition. American (i.e. "imports") can play for pay and expenses. Only a limited number of imports are allowed on the team and less are allowed on the field at one time. In the final analysis. It's football and I'm going there to coach it as well as I can. Because it's important to my players. And because the players are important to the family that is a team. And isn't that what life is about? Doing your part for the family and depending on your family to do theirs. When things are going good. When things become problematic. Team=family.

The team has been first class in ALL our dealings. A small salary (in Euros), lodging, car, gas, furnishings, bills, insurance, phone, flights for my wife Susan and I, and best of all, a life experience in a picturesque land with an amazing people and culture. Sure, there's the whole foreign language barrier (German vs Southwest Oklahoman-American), but at least the team practices are in "English". I fully intend to learn as much German as I can (really, ya'll). I also plan to try to deal with the metric system that the US resisted and ignored so vehemently.

Saturday, I shopped for things to take with me. It's pretty much warm-up suits and warm coaching stuff (practices get to -5 degrees centigrade). I hope I don't need suits, sport coats, non-coaching shoes, button up shirts, dress pants, etc. I don't ski but I bought some hiking boots. Friday, I load up my suitcase and leave my home for past 32 years.

Without my wife of 31 years.

The upcoming month of our separation will be the longer by 3 weeks that we have EVER been apart. She will come visit on Spring Break and live when school is out. We will return after the season after the season (in mid-July) Along with everything else about this experience, it is going to be a challenge.

I will be writing about my trip and my first impressions of my new team when possible. If you are still reading by now, you may want to check back on the latest. Thanks for your time.

lh

Same Game; New Continent

Same Game; New Continent

by Lyn Hepner on Friday, January 14, 2011 at 3:37pm

I grew up on a farm / ranch in Freedom, Oklahoma. This northwest Oklahoma community is very cowboy-western oriented. I attended rodeos, rode horses, and had no other footwear but boots from the earliest years of my life. Early pictures depict me in a western outfit complete with a cowboy hat, posing on and near a corral fence. In winter, my shirts were the pearl-snap western-style shirts, then in the summer, the sleeves got cut off. I was definitely on track to be a country-western stereotype.

Then while in the third grade at Freedom school, I was introduced to football. Our recess period included suiting out in football gear and playing the game which I have loved ever since. From that time, the allure of cowboy life, as great as it is, was replaced by the grandeur of the gridiron. As I grew, I realized that I would not ever catch a fly ball or hit a baseball with any consistency. I resembled a bull in a china closet when playing basketball (plus, they penalize players for physical contact). Even though my dad wanted me to be able to rope, ride broncs or wrestle steers, it just never came as natural as football. It was definitely the sport for me.

Freedom was a football town and our team won state while I was in elementary school. From the earliest time, boys were expected to become Freedom Eagles. I couldn't wait.

Through grade school and junior high, I played it, thought about it, read magazines about it, and watched the Dallas Cowboys destroy the Philadelphia Eagles seemingly every Sunday on the black and white tv set in our living room. Once in high school a coach named John Estep took the job as head high school coach the summer between my freshman and sophomore year. He brought along an assistant named Larry May. My first impression of Coach Estep was negative because he told me I wouldn't be a quarterback. Although this was partially devastating, I came to realize he was right and went on to lead the team in tackles as a defensive end and play offensive right guard.

Coach Estep was the person that made me realize that coaching football would be my profession. From my sophomore year to this day, nothing has ever seriously challenged that decision. He had played at Northwestern State College and it made me realize that I could actually play past high school. His love for the game and his caring attitude about players was and is the standard to which I strive to emulate.

I was selected to the 8-man All-Star game and subsequently accepted the only offer from a college that I got. Cameron University in Lawton, Oklahoma offered me books and tuition. My friend, Phillip Welty, was who they really wanted and I think they just threw me a bone to help influence his decision.

At Cameron, I was red-shirted one year, didn't get to play much the second year, and because a bunch of players got kicked off the team, finally got to start for the last eight games of my third year there. The coaching staff changed, and I did too. I transferred to Northwestern (the Rangers) and got to start and was voted team captain. I was voted All-OIC center.

Following graduation, I took a job at Altus Northeast Junior High. This was just to be a short stop before I began my career as a major college coach. Little did I know, I would meet my future wife that year, fall in love, get married, and embark on three great decades of life in Altus, Oklahoma.

I coached football, wrestling and track at Northeast for years. During that time, we were blessed with two amazing kids. Johnathan came in 1983 during football season and Lynsey came two years later during Christmas. I will always be thankful for the events that led them into my life.

In 1991, I was moved to the high school to coach and teach. Darvis Cole was head coach but retired only a year after I arrived. He was replaced by Jim Holloway and I jumped at the chance to be the Special Teams Coordinator. During the Holloway years, I also coached wrestling at the high school (we won state in 1995). I got to coach track with Jeep Johnson (we won state in '94-'95-'96) and I even coached Girls Soccer (we made the playoffs for the first time in school history). I was fortunate enough to coach both kids. Lynsey was an All-State forward and Johnathan started on the football team that played for the State Championship in 2001. That team also won the academic state championship for three straight years.

In 2005, Coach Holloway resigned and I applied for the head coaching job at Altus. I was hired and had six great years coaching great kids with great coaches. The community support was great and although we didn't win as many as we wanted, we won the first game I coached (Vernon; 15-9) went 3-3 against Duncan, made the playoffs all but 2 years, and won the last game I coached (Ardmore; 36-14). We set school records for least yards allowed on defense, had players set school records in passing, receiving, and tackles. We had numerous all-district, all-star by class, and all-state players. During the time I coached at Altus we had a number of players signed to college scholarships and some that went on to play in Div. I NCAA in the NFL.

I have gotten to teach some amazing students in the classroom and have always prided myself in the fact that when in the classroom, I am your history teacher. Not a coach drawing plays to pass the time. While in my classroom, the student is my most important client and they deserve the best I can do. My AP US History class has produced some national test qualifiers and they are all "History Ninjas" by the time through the class.

I met with my staff after the 2010 season and told them that I intended to coach another year. That was my plan till December of that year. My daughter Lynsey's graduation from OU Medical Center (Physician's Associate) was December 2 and my son Johnathan flew in from Nashville. He had currently been tour manager for country singer, Josh Gracin, and had been contacted by a former player that he coached when they were at Southeastern Oklahoma State University. Sean Cooper was a player in Europe, He was one of the best players as a running back. He called Johnathan, telling him about the opportunities in Europe to coach American football. This fascinated me. Coaching the sport I loved in a foreign country.

I got on a website called europlayers.com and found a resume of a coach in Austria. Coach Mathias Weinberger had an impressive playing and coaching resume. I also noticed that his team was looking for a defensive coordinator that knew about the 3-3-5 Odd Stack Defense as well as needing a Special Teams Coordiator. I replied with a resume of my own and soon, we were conducting Skype sessions to find out information that would lead to my joining the coaching staff of the AFC Kornmesser Rangers near Vienna, Austria.

This was, after 32 years in one place, a life-changing event. I would have to resign early since the season in Austria begins in February and ends in July. Susan refused to leave her class of 5th graders till the year was complete. This meant a separation in a marriage that had never seen more than a week apart in over 30 years. After much conflict, the decision was reluctantly made to be apart till spring break and then from late May through the middle of July when she would travel to Austria. Then, we plan to return to sunny Oklahoma.

Whenever I talk to people about this, the term "chance of a lifetime opportunity" comes up 99% of the time. I broke the news to my family and we all share excitement as well as the feeling one gets when one goes into something unknown.

How will the players react? Will they understand me? Will they think that I'm trying to come there and trivialize their efforts just because I came from the U.S.? These questions nag at me at night along with those concerning those I leave here. I will be missing my parents 60th wedding anniversary and Susan's Teacher of the Year speech.

I just recently got to address the team via Skype. I know they have great desire, enthusiasm and ability. I only hope to help put them in a position to make plays and be successful while being part of a team that cares for each other and strives to be the best possible at what you love.

So now I leave temporarily, a great location with some amazing people and memories. I aim to relocate in the middle of some more great memories with some more great people. All because of, and centered around, football.

So it's the same. But different. Same game; new continent.

Go Bulldogs!

and now...

Go Rangers!

Lyndon Hepner

Altus, Oklahoma

January 14, 2011