They say “some things never change.” I’m not sure who “they” are but I’m pretty sure I know what “they” mean. Considering my Presbyterian upbringing taught me only God is immutable, I would have to concede that everything else in life does eventually change — except maybe in football. Yes, good teams come and go, but some feelings associated with those teams don’t ever go away.

For me, something that never changes is the thrill I get in late October or early November when the annual Concord/Kannapolis football game approaches. I wouldn’t put it up there with Christmas, but it ranks a close second. When I was 6 years old, my father took me to this legendary event for the first time. Even then, I knew it was something special. From then on, I was hooked.

This classic matchup originated in 1924, and then started up again in 1931. This year will be the 92nd straight meeting, the longest, continuous high school football rivalry in North Carolina. I’ve been to almost half of those contests, and it would be even more had I not lived out of state for 18 years.

My heart began to race the moment I took hold of my father’s hand as we got out of our car and I saw the stadium lights beaming over the tops of the towering oak trees. Then I could hear the thunder of drums and the sharp peals of an old Southern Railway bell which was revered as an athletic “Ark of the Covenant ‘’ within Cabarrus County. Its unmistakable ringing filled the stadium with messages right out of Edgar Allen Poe’s famous poem, “The Bells.” Depending on the outcome of the game, those “molten golden notes” evoked either emotions of deeply embedded happiness or the “melancholy menace” of utter despair.

Ask anyone who grew up in “Old Concord” or “Old Kannapolis,” and they will tell you that the experience of that one Friday night each year was either a joyful high or a painful low, but either way, you would surely experience an emotion of “joyful pain” at some point during the contest.

As you watched your hometown family grow from dozens to thousands overflowing the stands on your side of the field — often hours before the kickoff — you knew you were surrounded by those who loved their town and their team as much as you did. There was great comfort and pride in that experience alone, regardless of the final score.

It is one of my most treasured memories from childhood but it is also one of my most treasured memories from teaching as well. When that celebrated game rolled around each year, my students and I shared the same intense passion.  From the time I was in first grade through tenth, we lost to those pesky Spiders. Not until my junior year did we finally pull off the unthinkable and break a ten year curse. I wanted my kids to understand the plight of all those who had gone before them who had never had the privilege of ringing the victory bell.

Before I experienced my final game as a student or a teacher, I attempted to put some of the unchanged memories and indelible feelings that began six decades ago into words in hopes that my students could see there was still a 6 year old boy holding his father’s hand deep in my soul who continues to wait anxiously for this one Friday night each year.

One Friday Night

Two teams

Two schools

Two towns

Similar in pride

Different in allegiance.

No Concord (no peace)

Between the two,

Nor Brown (nor gray)

Only green and white

And black and gold.

A backyard brawl

A front row seat.

Early November chill

Late season drama.

Last game.

First thought.

The dreams of youth

The youth of dreams.

Beating drums

Racing hearts.

Unbridled emotion.

A blast of a cannon.

Kickoff.

First downs

Field goals

Touchdowns!

Eruptions of joy.

High fives

Hearty hugs

Fight songs.

Fumbles

Yellow flags

Echoes of silence.

Goosebumps

Butterflies.

Family

Friends.

Common bond 

Common foe.

Tears of relief

Tears of regret.

State’s best rivalry.

Not just a football game

Nine decades of tradition

Witnessed by thousands.

Annual anticipation crawling like a spider

Wondering who will win

Realized by the ringing of a bell.

It’s that time again.

This Friday night.

 

Larry Efird is a retired education for Kannapolis City Schools.